“God, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”
I’ve been wrestling with my mind and my body. I’m fighting my anxiety. Well, God’s fighting my anxiety because I feel like I don’t have the strength to cope anymore. I just don’t care enough.
I’m tired of feeling like this. So I’m gonna watch TV and disappear into a life that was never meant to be mine, and I’ll do my homework when I feel like it because I am tired of forcing myself to live, to survive.
Forgive me for being blunt, but this feels like my life.
Don’t get me wrong. I am extremely grateful that I get to go to university and for my family and my friends.
It’s just that anxiety takes away life. It sucks out the energy and joy. It makes me someone I don’t want to be.
I have desires and dreams and goals, but every time I sit down to do them or think about them or write them out, my motivation disappears. It’s gone. I can’t do it anymore.
I called my mom from the Boston airport. I had only mentioned to one other person that I was struggling. It had to come to the point where nausea had embraced my whole stomach and made my head spin, and the whole expanse of my body ached. And the only thoughts I could think were literally, “God I can’t. I can’t.”
My prayer for the past few weeks has been something along the lines of, “God I can’t fight anymore. I’m sick of fighting for me. Bring people to fight for me. I need you to fight for me.”
I hate admitting that was my prayer, but it was. Maybe not every day or every moment of the day, but it was a common prayer.
I’ve realized that the Lord has been answering it. Rather randomly almost every weekend God has brought family to see me.
I didn’t even realize it, but he was answering my prayer. I didn’t seek those things out, which is so beautiful to me because He says, “I will fight for you. You need only to be silent” (Exodus 14:14).
So I called my mom in the Boston airport. I told her what WebMD, my doctor, and my counsellor had proved to me months ago, which she already knew, that Generalized Anxiety Disorder was something that I could call my own. For some reason it hit me like a train. I cried.
She didn’t promise me it would get better, and I loved her all the more for it. She was shooting me straight, and I couldn’t have been more appreciative. She just said, “you must be tired of feeling like this and struggling with this over and over again.”
With those words, I knew she got it. That meant so much to me. She didn’t tell me to fight harder or that things were gonna work out. She just stepped into my junk with me. She realized how exhausting this is and how much I must hate it; and of course that only made me cry harder.
I don’t say this because I am asking for attention or trying to throw myself a pity party. I say this because I know I’m not the only one. I say this because God gave me a voice to use and lately I’ve been taking that for granted. Keeping my struggle to myself because I’m embarrassed, ashamed, and afraid.
In all honesty, I wrote this blog awhile ago. I was just too scared to post it.
But asking for help is necessary.
In Exodus 17:8-15, Moses has to hold his staff to God in order for Joshua to win the battle, but his hands grew tired so Aaron and Hur ended up holding his arms.
This is beautiful. This is proof. Proof that it is okay to ask for help, if not necessary. It is permission. Freedom to ask for help and let others carry you.
As I said before, I told God I couldn’t do it this semester. I got real. Over and over again, I told Him I needed Him. That’s it. I’ve always hated asking for help, and talking about things. It took me about three weeks to tell my mom.
It’s been so much better having told her though. I’ve started going to counseling again. I only say this because I want to encourage you to speak, to be brave, to say the things that you’re so afraid of saying that it makes the whole world spin and tip once you do say them.
I believe in you, in your brave spirit. God made you a mighty warrior to fight battles, and if this is yours, it is okay. You’re not the only one.
I’m nauseous just writing this post. I get it. It’s hard. It seems like no one understands this struggle. They think we’re overdramatizing everything, making up symptoms. You can’t argue with hives, migraines, vertigo, nausea, shaking, heart palpitations, lack of strength, etc.
Ask for help. Be brave. You’re not the only one. Speak. Please just speak. You never know who needs to hear your words or your struggle.
And please, please, please let others fight for you.