Recently I’ve begun to put my anxiety up on the table to fully examine it. I know I’ve examined it many times before, but this is likely the first time I’ve shone any light on it. For many years, I didn’t even know it was anxiety. I knew there was turmoil within me, but I couldn’t identify what it was. Writing on this blog for the past five years has helped me to better understand it.

And even more recently I discovered that anxiety doesn’t always manifest itself the way we see it on television. Sometimes it’s not gasping breaths and beating chests. Sometimes it’s not freak out moments and loud cries. Sometimes it’s not even out loud. Sometimes it’s quiet, small, and deep inside where no one (maybe not even the anxious one) can see it. These days, that is how my anxiety arrives. Small. Creeping in. Seeping to all the edges. Overtaking all the bits of me. Drowning me from the inside. That’s my anxiety.

I’ve learned that most of my anxiety appears in intrusive thoughts. It is quite hard to explain what they feel like, unless you have experienced them. In a way, all thoughts are a bit intrusive. They jump in randomly and often seem hard to control. But intrusive thoughts are different. They are overwhelming. Rather than simply popping in, saying hello, and popping away, these thoughts barge in, make a mess of the place, and stick around. They sit on top of each other, interrupting and demanding attention. They refuse to be mediated or consoled.

Often times, these thoughts make me feel like I am in a boxing ring with myself. One side is loud and domineering. The other is calm and accommodating. I try to dispel intrusive thoughts, because they are often untrue, unnecessary or irrelevant. But that is the power of these thoughts, they reverberate in my mind constantly regardless of their truth, necessity or relevance.

I know I am speaking vaguely, and if you have never had such thoughts, you are likely having a hard time understanding me. Perhaps I will give an example: Recently I had the opportunity to play bingo with coworkers through a video call. All in all, it was an enjoyable experience. But I am a naturally shy person, so I had the desire early on to play but not win. (Because by pure definition of the game, the winner yells out Bingo! to notify other players of their win, an action I preferred not to do). Playing nonchalantly, I doubted my odds and enjoyed the banter amongst my coworkers. Then it happened. The final number was called…my final number was called. There I was staring at a completely covered bingo card (we were playing blackout). My heart began to pound way too hard for someone simply playing bingo. In my stressful fumbling, I turned to my computer and quickly typed in the chat box in all lowercase letters as if to whisper, “bingo.” As it turned out, I did win that game, and my win was met with many playful sighs and congratulations. But a single (harmless) comment by one coworker sent me spirally. “That shouldn’t count. She didn’t say it. You got say it out loud.” This comment was playful and said in a joking manner by a coworker who is know for such banter. The anxiety that had already begun building in me from the moment that final number was called, quickly seized hold of that comment and swallowed it whole. Suddenly, something that was meant to be a joke was the tool that my own mind was using to beat me. Thoughts popped into my head in such a rapid speed that I can only describe it as spiraling:

Because being a Christian has given me a plethora of positive sayings to bring out in such moments, each negative thought is usually followed by weakly worded rebuttal. None of punches seem to land. As I sit there, my intrusive thoughts take over, my confidence dwindles, and I feel small. After a few moments though, the intrusive thoughts tend to die down, likely because my mind turns to some present task. The negative me lies back down in her coffin to patiently wait for the next spiral. I’m left alone to recollect myself. But something lingers. The overwhelming and all-consuming weakness. I am drained. I no longer feel the urge to interact with people…or myself really. I feel tired and desperately desire to go home and lay in my bed. Usually, this feeling of depleted energy begins to fade in the hours that follow. Slowing I begin to regain my energy. But all too often, the feeling lingers usually in a memory that reasserts itself every few hours.

Most of my memories of these anxious spirals, where my thoughts swept over me, are saved in an impenetrable folder in my mind labeled “Embarrassing Moments that No One Knows.” Essentially these are moments when my brain operated in a way that I can only express as being embarrassing. In hindsight, I always wonder why I have those thoughts. You see, I don’t even believe any of those things. My rationality is too strong to believe them. And even in those spiraling moments, I don’t really believe them. I think because they are being stabbed at me so repetitively and incessantly, I feel no choice but to give in to them. And that scares me. Because I believe that over time, these thoughts will begin to define me. The more I accept them (as false and unbelievable as they may be), the more they begin to shape how I view myself. And that’s scary.

So for the past few weeks, I have taken on a new combative stance against my anxiety. In the past, I focused on escaping from it, thinking “This moment was bad, so let’s just hurry up with this day, this week, this month, so that I can forget about it.” Now, I fight back. As weary as I may feel in the moment, I fight back. I look my anxiety in the face and tell it that this is not okay. Doing this has put me in a peculiar position. I find myself in more pain and shedding more tears than I otherwise would. It’s hard and scary. And honestly, I have yet to fully succeed. But I’m trying. Confronting my anxiety head on is often the hardest part of my day, but I’m going to keep doing it. I’m tired of running away from it. I’m tired of letting it have its way with me and MY life.

I don’t presume that I will ever truly be over this. I think it will be a struggle I face for the rest of my life. But God is faithful and he will bless me with perseverance. “Because of the Lord’s great love, I am not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.’” -Lamentations 3:22-24. My anxiety will not consume me. I will stand strong and wait for the Lord to deliver me.

K.J. 11/29/2020

Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebenezer, saying “Thus far has the Lord helped us.”

1 Samuel 7:12 NIV