I Don't Know...

I don't know how to explain it to you- or anybody for that matter.

I don't know how to tell you that I can't go to your party on Thursday night because you have a small apartment and it's going to be crowded...and I just can't do small crowded places.

I don't know how to tell you that I'm sorry I cancelled our plans for Friday night...again...but being out other times this week has left me drained, grumpy, and feeling on edge.

I don't know how to tell you that having anxiety does not make me a self-loathing, worrisome, introvert that won't talk to people. [I can do just about anything if you give me enough of a heads up.]

I don't know how to tell you that I want to sit in the back of the room or to the side because I want to be able to slip out easily if I start to have an anxiety attack.

I don't know how to tell you that when I'm in "freak out" mode there's nothing you can say to fix it. I need you to let me freak out, maybe yell at you if necessary, and then when I calm down let me rationally discuss my fears with you.

I don't know how to tell you that I don't want to give a toast or a talk at your [insert significant occasion here.] I will if I have to, and I will if I spontaneously feel led to, but to talk in front of a large group of people is one of the most terrifying things you can ask me to do.

I don't know how to tell you what it feels like. I don't know how to explain that it feels as though there are about 15 college sized textbooks pressing down on my chest, a hundred needles poking my arms and legs, a pounding in my head that won't let up, my own voice in my head playing the worst case scenario over and over like a horrible late night commercial that just won't stop, and utter fear racing through my veins....for often times no reason.

I don't know how to tell you how embarrassed I get. When I was in high school someone found me hyperventilating in a corner of the church while we were playing a hide and go seek kind of game, and ran to tell my youth pastor that they thought I was dying. When I was at Frosh Camp I went to the bathroom and cried for an hour because I was so overwhelmed. A few months ago I got pulled over for speeding and the police officer kept telling me to stop crying/breathing so hard and sign the ticket before he called an ambulance to come and administer oxygen. Early this last summer I landed in the ER because of a panic attack. In 8th grade I ran off the stage in the middle of the Hallelujah chorus, down the aisle of a church, through the back doors, and into the bathroom. (I know that I briefly considered leaving the building altogether, but then panicked over what my mother would do if I ran out of the building entirely.) Last week, I had to leave a meeting and take a walk because I felt an attack brewing, and when I walked back in everyone was in the middle of something. I don't enjoy it. I don't do it for attention. I don't like talking about it. I don't like what anxiety does to my body, and I don't like what I miss out on in life because of it.

I don't know what to say back when you tell me to pray about it or that I shouldn't be worried about anything. I know that. I have bible verses on a post it note in my car. I have a playlist of worship songs on my iPod that have words to perfectly describe God as our comfort, our rock, and our protector when we feel afraid. And as much as I appreciate you trying to help, I need you to pat me on the shoulder and tell me that it's just going to be okay. I need you to remind me that God is going to take care of me, and that I shouldn't hate myself or beat myself up over it.

I don't know how to tell you that I feel SO much better than I used to. I don't take medication for it anymore. (But I don't think there is anything wrong AT ALL for those who need it.) I don't skip school or classes because I'm afraid of failing. I don't stare down at my feet for the entirety of a choir performance. I don't skip trying new things anymore. I sing solos at church and lead bible studies on occasion. I walk up to people and introduce myself, and I make plans to do things with others. (All of which may seem simple to you, but to someone who struggles with anxiety it can sometimes be a big deal.)

I don't know how to talk about my anxiety, but I know it doesn't define me.

I know when I need to get out of a situation and take a walk, call a friend, take a break, go for a run, or read the bible.

I know that I used to have crippling anxiety attacks every day, and now I only get little ones once in a while.

I know a lot of my triggers now, and I know how to avoid them. If I can't avoid them, then I have learned how to cope with them.

I know that I have amazing brothers and sisters in Christ who encourage me when I need it, and a family that is so supportive and gracious to me- even when we all know I don't deserve it at all.

I know that God has carried me through a lot, and I know that I am thankful for the challenges He has presented in my life that has shaped me into who I am today. I don't know much, but I know that I've learned a lot in my twenty years of life. And I will be forever grateful to the life lessons I've learned throughout the way.

I know that this thing I still struggle with on occasion isn't ever going to hold me back from what God wants me to do in my life. <3