My Story: the longer version

I grew up going to church regularly and loved God ever since I can remember. Much of what I remember from my time at church was that there were a lot of rules I needed to follow if I wanted to be "cool" with God. So out of my love for Him, I tried to follow all the rules, all the time. As you might suspect, I failed. I wouldn't say miserably, but still, I missed the mark often. When I couldn't reach perfection I would beat myself up and try harder the next time. This cycle continued and was never fulfilling. When I was in 8th grade, I went to a camp and heard the gospel and was so relieved to know that I could never reach perfection, but Jesus did, and He wanted to do that for ME. This began my journey of really walking with the Lord. This journey was not easy. I was tested many times in high school and learned how to defend my faith pretty quickly. These trials were so minor looking back. My life was good. I grew up in a great home and had all that I needed. I hardly experienced hardship except for the occasional college struggle. Until August 2014.

First came the news that my brother had depression. Depression that almost took his life. I had no idea how to handle it. I was at a new job, which was very stressful at the time. Life suddenly became very hard. However, I did what I had taught myself to do. Suck it up and be strong. I felt guilty for not having a better relationship with my brother and about not knowing how to help him now. It ate at me inside but I had no idea how to deal with the issue because I didn't feel like it was my issue. I shouldn't be the one having trouble. So I shoved everything aside. Slowly he began to get better and we could see a light.

Meanwhile work just got worse. I was thrown into a position that I could in no way prepare for and felt like a failure daily. It was a constant source of anxiety and frustration. Yet, I was to be strong. I thought that if I just spent more time with Jesus the problems would go away. They didn't. Nothing seemed to work. In the past, time with Jesus and prayer had worked, but this seemed different. Not soon after that trial I found out that my grandmother had terminal lung cancer. Terminal. It's just so devastating. And again I stuck to my mantra: stay strong.

In July of 2015 was when I finally had my moment. I was with my family at our new ranch in Hearne and had a panic attack over some Mexican food. It was ridiculous. But it was real. I had no idea what was wrong with me and neither did anyone in my family. I felt stupid. Weak. Defeated. I remember reading in the Psalms before I went to bed that night. Not really processing what I was reading but just doing so because I knew I should. And it was all I knew to do.

That Monday I went to my doctor and she offered me anxiety medicine. I was so against the medicine. Nothing was wrong with me. I was just having a hard time and needed to push through it. False. Through the insistence of my mother, I requested the medicine. And then came the talk of "therapy". Oh no. Not me. Therapy is for crazy people. I'm not crazy. What would I have to say to a therapist anyway? But God. I emailed someone at the counseling center at my church that night. Oh so hesitantly. I knew that I had to send an email because I was never going to call. I made an appointment for two days later. The days before I went I was nervous, anxious, even mad that I was actually doing this. But I went, and when I did I realized how much help I did need. In just the past 11 months I had faced so much hardship and hadn't processed any of it. I didn't make time to really assess how I was doing. My counselor just listened and handed me tissue.

I went back for many more sessions after that and learned how to deal with the anxiety I was facing. I learned that I did need help and it was OK. I learned ways to fight the battles in my mind and distinguish truth from lie. I also came to the realization that after having followed Jesus since my freshman year of high school I thought that I could push the cruise button on life and take my foot off the gas. I believe these experiences were God's sweet (and yes hard) way of showing me that His desire for me is to keep growing. He has so much more that He wants me to experience. His purpose for my life is not yet fulfilled. Not until He comes back or takes me home. I am so thankful for this. God's not done with me and He's not done with you. Stay faithful and keep going. 

"He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the Lord."
​Psalm 40:2-3