The other day I couldn’t sleep. And I usually have no problem sleeping.
It was the second night in a row I was up, riddled with anxiety and frustration. I was scared about what was next, I was sad for no reason, and I didn’t know how to handle all the self-deprecating, prideful, and anxious thoughts that were plaguing me.
I didn’t want to wake my mom so I called a good friend of mine I knew would be awake. She talked me through an anxiety attack for an hour before I laid down again at 2 am. I prayed and did rhythmic breathing before finally falling asleep around 3.
I feel like I’m fighting the air itself as it pushes out of my lungs, crushing my chest with the weight of the universe. I’m sweating, crying, yelling with frustration as I shove against a hundred year old tree, willing it to move an inch for me. I’m laying on the floor of the boxing ring. I’m bleeding. I can’t breath. I can’t fight anymore. I’ve lost.
I’ve never won a battle on my own. I’ve never defeated the invisible enemy that renders me immovable. I will never be victorious on my own. I’m not made for solitary victory. I’m destined for failure. Alone, without the gospel and the Lord, I am defeated. Continue reading →
I have to give my roommate, Zoe, so much credit for my thoughts. They’re my thoughts, my opinions, my feelings and emotions but more than 80% of the time, conversations with Zoe helps me understand them. I could have a huge, pressing problem that I wouldn’t know about until Zoe helps me sort through my feelings. I’m getting better at it, my emotional maturity is slowly getting higher and my vocabulary to explain my thoughts is growing, but I still rely on Zoe or my counselor to help me through the jumbled mess in my mind. It takes multiple conversation’s sitting on my counselors couch or on Zoe’s bed for me to be able to say out loud “Oh yeah, I’m really insecure about that.” And then Zoe just laughs and goes, “I’ve been telling you that for years.” Continue reading →