The Comeback

I hit the lowest point of my life in 2015. I am ready to see it go.

I’ve been struggling to write this out in fear of what others may now think of me, and the fact that by typing it I am admitting to everything, but it is my story and God is directly in the center of it. And anything that involves God working so diligently deserves to be shared.

This year was a year that I did not anticipate in the slightest. I hit rock bottom. I’ve felt like I was in a continuous spiral that was only getting faster and stronger, and I’ve been hanging on with a few fingers just waiting to be flung off into the distance.

The kicker was January 7, when I woke up to my dog not being able to move and foaming at the mouth. I panicked and called my vet who graciously met me at the vet’s office at 6am. She ran multiple tests for over 24 hours and concluded that it was a brain condition that was interfering with her spinal cord, causing her brain to malfunction. As well as heart failure, that is typical to the breed. There was nothing anyone could do. So I got out of school early on that Fri., January 9, and went and held my little puppy, Padgett, and felt her sweet heart stop as the vet pushed the medicine to end her life. Devastation is an understatement. For 4 years it was just me and that little girl. She was my world, my best friend, always there to greet me when I came home, to make sure I wasn’t lonely… I didn’t know just how hard I took her death until the year kept unfolding and only got worse.

I have always been somewhat of an anxious worrier. I want to please people. I am constantly evaluating my words and actions and wondering what the other person is thinking of me. And that part of me got worse. I have this fear of making people upset at me and them leaving me; too annoyed to love me any longer. This kept me up at night, would consume every thought, was a heavy weight that I couldn’t shake off, was robbing me of the joy of living, and putting a severe strain on my relationships. I was not easy to love in any way.

I felt prompted to speak with an old friend from college whose heart is much like mine. She related with me and encouraged me to go get help. I immediately dismissed the thought. No way was I going to be one of those crazy people who needed a shrink. I was never going to lie back on a couch and spill my life story to a stranger, who had no idea who I was. I didn’t need that; I was stronger than that. Turns out I wasn’t. After one too many nights of waking up at 3a sweating profusely and not being able to get back to sleep, I decided that seeing a professional was probably in my best interest. The next day I made the call and set up an appointment two weeks away. That day came and I was more anxious about that than anything else that had been bothering me. I had anxiety about talking to someone about my anxiety. This was a milestone for me. I had to admit out loud to myself, and to someone else, that I didn’t have it all together. I was losing control and falling apart. I was broken and in the dark and not who I knew myself to be. I had to swallow a lot of pride that day and tearfully confess what I’ve been too afraid to speak out loud – that I didn’t know what to do and I needed help. My therapist was incredible and pointed out things that I couldn’t put into words what I was feeling. He mentioned how hard I took Padgett’s death. He also stated that I had a weird fear of abandonment by those who love me. That’s weird because I haven’t truly been abandoned. My parents are still married and my family is incredibly tight. I’m sure there’s something in my past that created this weird spot in my brain. He gave me some great tools to work through my anxiety attacks and I still use them to this day. I also started taking some medication to take the edge off of my thinking habits. I never would have guessed that I’d be seeing a therapist and taking “crazy pills”…

During this time, I felt incredibly alone and isolated. I mean, that’s the biggest attack on me the enemy can throw. Make me feel cut off from my loved ones and I shrink down to absolutely nothing. I felt unreachable, untouchable, and sick. I felt like a crazy psychopath and I just knew that people could tell it by looking into my eyes. Didn’t I have my life all together before? Why couldn’t I control this? Why couldn’t I just talk myself out of feeling a certain way or thinking certain things? I was stronger than that, better than that. That wasn’t me. And I was mad at God for allow me to go through this. I was mad at Him for giving me this thorn.

And things continued to get rocky. I was finally at a point where I could choose and understand love for a man whom I believed God wanted me to marry, and that was taken. I moved into a beautiful farm house on lots of land that I really loved, then four months later had to move out again due to some misunderstandings and disagreements with the landlords. So my bank account was drained. I chose to leave my position as a band director, which if you know me, you KNOW how I’ve wanted to be a band director since I was in the 7th grade. I worked hard for that degree. But felt like I needed to get out, so I switched to elementary school teaching. Which in NO WAY is a negative thing – but it does require admitting the closing of a life chapter, and for me, I grieve closing chapters. My best friend and her family moved 4 and a half hours away from me. Again, not a big deal on the surface, but I was unstable. My sister got married, same thing again. Everything seemed to be crumbling underneath me. And I was hypersensitive to every little thing.

My moods were on a roller coaster, I’d cry at any given moment, I was still losing sleep, I was still taking medicine, I felt like I was barely hanging on by my fingertips at times and then like I was climbing back over the mountain at others. Darkness fell. The sky grew cloudy, God was obscure, and I was lost.

I read books trying to fix me. I read blogs. I researched. I drove people crazy by asking too many questions. I was even convinced my therapist was put off by me and was just telling me something so I’d just shut up and get out of there.

I wish I could say, “But then I was magically and spiritually lifted out of the pit and everything was hunky dory again.” I cannot. I don’t feel like everything is okay right now. I’m still upset over everything that’s happened; I carry this weight of anxiety, stress, and borderline depression around no matter how hard I scream at God to save me. Don’t get me wrong. Jesus has saved, is saving, and will always save me. But I didn’t get a peaceful feeling overall this year. I fell into a hole, a pit of darkness, depression, worry, fear, anxiety… that I was so disabled. I distinctly remember sitting on the floor in my room crying, confused, wrestling with the Lord, having scripture come to mind and me saying it out loud and feeling NOTHING. I journaled, in huge letters across a tear stained page, “I don’t know who I am anymore.” I felt like a fraud in church, leading worship for people on stage. Singing songs to Jesus that I didn’t fully believe, because my selfish mind could only focus on the things that were taken away from me.

So why am I writing this out? Why publish this? Because I KNOW I am not alone in this. I know there are other people reading this who are going through this, or know someone who is. And let me tell you, there is hope. My God is a big, strong, mighty warrior who can handle my crap. He listens to the screams, the disbelief, the uncertainty. He handles my mood swings better than I think I do. He wrestles back with me. Even though I don’t FEEL delivered or set free from what’s happened, I know know know know know that He is there. Loving me, watching me, helping me, hearing me, praying with me, holding me, crying with me, singing me back to sleep at night. And I can trust Him. I am still praising Him; even when it hurts like hell I will praise Him.

My story isn’t over, although this year almost is (thank goodness). I have been given dreams that I think I’m supposed to do something with. I feel that the physical turning of a calendar year brings a blank slate in which God is going to continue to write a beautiful story for me. I have this eager expectation that things will change, because honestly, for me, it’s only uphill from this point forward. There’s a song that I love from one of my favorite bands, Caedmon’s Call, and the song sums up my year. It talks about being in the valley, but also knowing the freeing baptism that Christ brings to bring us up again. I love it.

If you have story similar to mine, please share it with me so I can pray for you and encourage you. You are not alone and there is hope out there.

Caedmon’s Call, “Valleys Fill First”:

This is the valley that I’m walking through
And if feels like forever since I’ve been close to You
My friends up above me don’t understand why I struggle like I do
The shadow’s my only, only companion and at night he leaves too

*Down in the valley, dying of thirst
Now down in the valley, it seems that I’m at my worst
My consolation is that You baptize this Earth
I’m down in the valley, valleys fill first*

Down in this wasteland, I miss the mountaintop view
But it’s here in this valley that I’m surrounded by You
Though I’m not here by my will, it’s where Your view is the most clear
So I’ll stay in this valley if it takes forty years

*Down in the valley, dying of thirst
Now down in the valley, it seems that I’m at my worst
My consolation is that You baptize this Earth
I’m down in the valley, valleys fill first*

It’s like that long Saturday between death and the rising day
When no one wrote a word, wonderin’ is this the end
But You were down there in the well, saving those that fell
Bringing them to the mountain again