Rough morning, public spaces, uncomfortable situations.
Finally home, you know, you can feel it.
Negative mood, body aching, heart wrenching.
The impending shift at work amplifying all thoughts.
Ponder not going, suck it up, walk out the door.
Driving, vision blurry, chest beating, numbness taking over.
Arrival, can’t get out, tears start flowing. No, not again.
Wipe your eyes, take deep breaths, stand up tall.
Walk a few steps, now you're weak, now you’re shaking.
Brain goes blank, memory gone, skin is burning.
Sit down, close eyes, wonder why.
You should have known, you thought today was different.
You thought you could beat it.
Panic wins- again.
Pounding head, exhausted muscles, heavy eyes.
Leave early, crawl in bed, wonder if it’ll ever end.
Beat yourself up, why couldn’t you stop it, why can’t you control your own mind.
Fall asleep, wake up tomorrow, new day – will panic destroy it?
It’s been eight months since my last severe panic attack. Today, anxiety snuck up on me in full force, causing such physical reactions that, if I didn’t know I was having a panic attack, could have been mistaken for a seizure. I knew before I even left the house that I was not 100%, but I for sure wasn’t expecting what resulted. And after it was all over, all that kept running through my exhausted mind was how I had failed. I failed to prevent the attack, I failed to calm myself down like I had been taught, I failed to become well enough again to work my shift, I failed at making it to a 9th month without an attack. My brain, already flawed and already wreaking havoc on my day, was convincing me that I wasn’t good enough to beat anxiety, that I was mistaken when I thought I was panic free, that I was always going to be the girl who cries and shakes and hyperventilates in the break room.
Then God told me the truth.
Through the radio played Matt Redman’s song, Never Once, and He reminded me that I was never alone, even when I was feeling hopeless and beaten. The lyrics, “never once did we ever walk alone, never once did you leave us on our own” resonated in my mind as I remembered that the victories I’ve experienced with mental health were because of His power. When I look back at the battles, I can also be assured that there will be more and it’s not over, but I’ll never be alone, and the same God who celebrates with me is also there in the hurt and the hopelessness, because He is faithful. My Father doesn’t see me as a failure, as I sometimes see myself, but instead He sees me as strong, brave, and loved. And this God, the one who believes in me and encourages me, is the one who is there in the midst of my anxiety and panic.
How can I believe the lies that I have failed when the one whose image from which I was created is standing right beside me?
Bad days suck, but bad days don’t mean a bad life. And bad days become better when you’re reminded that you’re not on your own.
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