let go of your grip.

Since moving home, my mental health has taken a huge hit.

There are a lot of reasons for this. Leaving my job/my kids so suddenly, transitioning home (which isn’t exactly the healthiest place for me to be in the first place), not having access to counseling, being separated from my community, figuring out job things-– these are all factors at play. 

And that doesn’t even scratch the surface of it, truthfully. 

I’m just sad. And anxious. And then sad some more.

Add bored, lonely, and jobless on top of that, and you’ve got quite the spectacle. While my depression hasn’t taken as much of a hit (though being isolated and rejected a bit hasn’t done me any good in this area, and it’s been slowly getting worse), it’s my anxiety that has struggled with all this change the most.

My anxiety tends to manifest in a few different ways, primarily in physical symptoms. My stomach aches, my chest hurts (think how your chest hurts when you’ve been coughing a lot… that’s the feeling), my head throbs, I get random aches and pains, heartburn, so on and so forth. A lot of my anxiety is tied to my health, so when I get anxious because of one or more of these physical symptoms, my anxiety gets worse… it’s a cruel, unfair cycle.

Another way my anxiety manifests is in my insomnia, my inability to get to sleep. My inner night owl comes out to play, and not just ’cause I enjoy the night life.

So since I’ve been home, it’s been getting harder for me to sleep at night. I’ve been awake since 2, 3am most nights. Melatonin helps me get to sleep, but it’s willing myself to take them amidst the voices in my head wanting me to stay awake that’s hard. Because I’m scared of sleep, I stay up until I physically collapse, usually overthinking myself to sleep instead of counting sheep.

This is unsustainable in the long run, especially when I DO start working again. I cannot survive going to bed at 3 am and waking up at 7 or earlier to get to work, unless I’d like to become a zombie on The Walking Dead (I don’t).

I’ve nearly become nocturnal, sleeping during the day and staying up all night, filling out applications and dawdling on the internet. It doesn’t help that in the midst of all this, I was diagnosed with anemia, thus another reason I’ve been so fatigued/exhausted/drained, on top of the lack of sleep. (Now that I’m getting that under control, my fatigue is getting much better during the day! But getting to sleep at night is still a struggle).

I was out with my mom on my birthday a few weeks ago, picking up my birthday cake at Publix. I went to get some iron supplements (for the above anemia diagnosis)  when a new sleep supplement caught my eye. It’s a gummy by the company Olly, called “restful sleep.” It has melatonin in it (which I have survived on since my mental hell started nearly 3 years ago). It also had an ingredient I didn’t know, L-Theanine. On the bottle it’s described as “an amino acid that encourages calmness so you can hush those voices in your head and drift off.”

Man, I need an IV of that stuff 24/7. Anything to shut the damn voice recorder in my head.

I ended up buying some, and it’s been great. I’ve been sleeping a lot better than I did with just melatonin, and I think part of that is because I’m not (mostly) sitting in bed overthinking everything before I go to bed.

Another thing I had to do when I started taking this stuff: Despite the anxiety telling me to stay awake, I’ve been forcing myself to go to sleep earlier.

I’ve begun using bits and pieces of the bedtime routine I started in therapy after my panic attacks started: Write my to-do list if needed, turn my phone on do not disturb and turn the laptop off, make my bed (yes at night, i know I’m weird) read my bible study/devotional, say my prayers before my head hits the pillow. This signals my body that it’s not time to burn the midnight oil, but time to gear up for rest.

I hate it. Every fiber of my body hates it, because I lie down to sleep every night so scared, even with supplements and routines. I’m scared of dying in my sleep. I’m scared of the future and not knowing what’s next. I’m scared of financial struggles and paying bills and getting out of my mother’s house. I’m scared of everything and anything. It all manifests itself at night, when my stomach starts aching and my heart starts racing and I begin my tossing and turning dance routine (that my back and shoulders pay for every dang morning) as I lie down to sleep.

I will never understand why this is part of my life. I hate it.

Every night I pray the same prayer: just wake me up tomorrow, God. Let me sleep through the night and wake up the next morning. Please don’t let me die in my sleep. This hasn’t changed since my initial anxiety disorder diagnosis a few years ago.

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There was one particular night a few weeks ago where I was just freaking out as I got into bed– unable to get comfortable, feeling sickly and sweaty and just inconsolable. As I was praying this particular night, I was exasperated. Defeated. Tired, but trying desperately to fight sleep. It was in this time of trying to get this desperate prayer out that I heard a voice. A thought that was undoubtedly not mine, because it was the complete opposite of where my mind was:

“Let go of your grip.”

That was it. “Let go of your grip.” When I heard it, I stopped and just thought for a moment.

I was lying in my bed on my stomach, my head in my pillow, arms over my mattress. My fists were clenched tightly, for no reason. But as I heard this voice I relaxed and let them go slack.

 

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Let go of your grip. 

There’s a lot of unknown in my world right now.

As my friend Kaitlyn so eloquently put it, “I have literally nothing together about my life.” Nothing. Absolutely nothing!

And to think, I used to believe I had it all figured out. Then life actually happened. 

Control of everything in my life has slowly slipped from my grasp the past few months: my career, my home, my community, even my health… it’s all unraveled in some way recently, ever so slowly.

I’d love to say I’m okay with it, this losing control, thing. But I’m not. At all.

I hate losing control. I like knowing my steps before I move. I like having everything about my life in my grasp, right in front of me so I can determine where to go and what to do.

Letting go of my grip on my life and all that’s in it is extremely difficult. It means letting go of control. I don’t like relinquishing control– and as my fellow control-freak Monica Gellar-Bing says, relinquish is just a fancy word for lose. Losing control is something I loathe.

I’m afraid that if I let go of control, things won’t happen like they’re supposed to (aka like I want them to). 

Letting go means surrendering all I am and not knowing what’s next with it all. I don’t like surrendering.

But then I remember who I am surrendering it to. 

Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you. 1 Peter 5:7

I love the Message version of the same verse:

Live carefree before God; he is most careful with you.

Here’s another one:

God, my shepherd!
    I don’t need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
    you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
    you let me catch my breath
    and send me in the right direction. Psalm 23 (Message)

and another:

“That’s right. Because I, your God,
    have a firm grip on you and I’m not letting go.
I’m telling you, Don’t panic.
    I’m right here to help you.”

Isaiah 41:13 (Message)

And my favorites:

“I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

 God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us. Ephesians 3:20 (Message)

 Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” John 13:7 

I can let go of my grip, even when I’m fearful and frustrated with the whole control thing, because I know who has a grip on me.

 

It doesn’t make it easier to let go of my grip. It doesn’t make relinquishing control a happy thought. But I’m realizing that letting go doesn’t mean everything is out of control. It means that it’s now in control of the one who goes before me, the one who knows me and my life and my plans better than I can.

 

I can let go of my grip on my fears, my future, my plans, my everything when I know that they’re being caught by the same God who catches me.

---

My prayers before bed are a little different now.

My stomach still hurts, and my heart still beats out of my chest. But I take a deep breath and try to relax into sleep anyway. I still pray for God to wake me up everyday, because I still live with the fear that I wont. But I pray something else too now.

Alright God, I’m letting go of my grip. Please take all of this from me so I can sleep. 

Take my fear of the future. My struggle with my career path. My worry about money and finances. My loneliness and frustration. Take my worries, my annoyances, my sadness. My overthinking and trying to plan it all on my own. Take all of what’s forcing me to grip my hands so tightly that I can’t let them go to find rest.

Letting go of my grip, I let His grip catch it all.

Maybe someday I’ll believe that letting go of my grip will be something good for me. Hopefully someday I’ll see the fruits of giving it all up to God and going to sleep. But until that day, I’ll say this prayer on top of everything else I pray, and hope to God someday this all makes sense.

Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. Romans 8:26-28 (Message)

Pastures- Housefires (listened mostly to this album while writing)

this one too. Sound of Surviving-Nichole Nordeman (her whole new album is great)

 

collect (five minute friday)

Happy five minute friday! this week’s word:

hm. interesting! here we go:

---

 

I am a collector of things.

I blame my mother for this habit– our house has always come close to being hoarder-esque, filled with random knicknacks and antiques and things of the like.

 

I’ve collected different things over the years: beanie babies, Disney Mania CDs (am I a 90s kid or what?!). pug-related things, books. The list could go on.

But my favorite collection is in my keepsake box.

It’s not a typical collection of pretty things or seemingly important items. It’s a box I’ve had for many years (actually I had to replace the box itself in college, because it got so full it wore out!).

Rather, I use my keepsake box to collect my memories and things that remind me how loved I am.

In it you’ll find every birthday/holiday card I’ve gotten since childhood, notes from church friends or college friends and mentors. Ticket stubs and programs from various events, church bulletins from important days, pictures, small key chains or other random mementos others would probably throw away. I’m too sentimental to let these things go, because they each take me back to a moment in time or a person in my life who means something to me. And that’s important.

As the cliche question goes,what would I take if there was a fire? Besides my dogs, it would be the most important item I grab.

When I’ve been in the depths with my mental health, battling depression and anxiety, the only thing that gave me a glimmer of hope– a small reminder that I was loved and cared for and thought of– was the containments of that box. It gave me peace and reassurance when my brain couldn’t. When I’m low and sad and frustrated at the world, it’s where I go for comfort and hope that maybe I’m still meant to be here.

I know we aren’t supposed to store up our treasures on earth, and I get that. But the items I collect in that box are more than things– they are a lifeline.

comfort (five minute friday)

Tonight’s word:

I legit think God has a sense of humor.

I was going to write on something COMPLETELY different (or I was trying to, at least), but I kept coming back to this. It’s hard. I didn’t want to write this post. But I’ve been sitting on my laurels with this for quite some time, and God is finally pushing it out of me, one blog post at a time. (I’m actually working  procrastinating on an in-depth post on this topic. Ugh. Why, Jesus?!?). Anyway, here ya go. *deep breaths*

---

 

I am a comfort-seeker. I like safe, I like secure, I like control. When I can’t be a fixer or a helper, I become a numb-er: numbing myself from whatever I can’t fix until it’s not a problem anymore.

My biggest source of comfort isn’t scripture or worship music or anything Jesus-y.

It’s food.

I’ve been a food addict (my personal opinion, I’ve never been officially diagnosed) since childhood. I’m also an emotional (cry-baby according to my family) person, and when my emotions overwhelm me? I eat.

I would sneak food from the kitchen when I was upset with my grandmother, or eat leftovers from dinner off the stove.

At 25, I tiptoe into the kitchen still for late-night snacks, for fear of waking my mom up.

I celebrate victories with cake or ice cream or my favorite meal.

I calm my anxious nerves through baking.

I relieve stress by cooking.

I eat snacks when I’m bored.

I numb myself with candy and sweets.

I’m an emotional eater, bored eater, anxious eater.

---

 

Food is my greatest comforter. When I’m eating something I love, I feel safe and peaceful.

This is not how food is supposed to work, I’ve learned.

I comfort myself with food, and have done so for at least 20 of my 25 years.

Real talk: currently eating butter bread, because it sounded good and I have felt crappy all day.

I don’t run to Jesus for comfort. I run to food.

And I don’t know how to run elsewhere for it. Because Jesus doesn’t make me feel full and secure quite like cake.

–END–

–curls up in corner because vulnerability is hard–

 

play (five minute friday)

This week’s FMF post is a little late, but better late than never right? Finally got my laptop charger (praise the lord) so I’m back in action! Yesterday was my birthday so it was a bit too crazy to write.

 

This week’s word:

I’m kinda glad I waited– I got a different idea for this word after thinking on it for a few days.

---

 

I have always loved to play games. As a kid, I loved board games and card games, or games on the computer (I’ve played on neopets since I was in elementary school– and i have no shame about still playing as a 25 year old, it’s my stress reliever!!)

As I’ve gotten older, it’s been less board and card games and more games that make me think critically or games where I have to use my brain creatively.

I’ve never been a get-to-know you game person or team bonding games fan– if you’re going to get to know me, I’d rather be through an intimate conversation than 3 truths and a lie. Youth group games or sports-like competition games are not my style– I am competitive, but it’s more of the trivia/brain game type.

My favorite game to play in the whole wide world? Bananagrams!

This is what it looks like in the bag. Isn’t it cute?

If you don’t know it, please go here now. I was introduced to it my sophomore year of college at a campus ministry retreat– I played for nearly 4 hours of free time that weekend, and then promptly came home and purchased the game for myself!

The game is a word game, similar to a speed scrabble competition. It’s so fun and incredibly fast paced(depending on how many people are playing), and it can get wickedly tricky depending on how many letters you have at a given time. But it is so. much. fun. Especially if you’re a think-on-your-feet, word nerd, dictionary of a person like myself.

It is played at nearly every game night me and my friends have had. I’ve played for countless hours in my college dorm lobby with so many friends (and met new people who would ask to come play with us when I played with friends in the lobby!).  I now own two different versions of the game (the regular and party versions).

Because of the critical thinking skills required to play, bananagrams has surprisingly become a tool in my mental health journey–when I am overwhelmed with anxiety or in the midst of a panic attack, i grab my bananagrams and play by myself, focusing on the words I can make with the letters I grab from the bag or just building words. It gives me something to focus on instead of the looming anxiety battle in my brain. It gives my brain another place to divert my thoughts, and it gives me some control back. Bananagrams has traveled with me almost everywhere in years’ past  (as far as Mexico!) as an easy way to combat panic, and has become more than a game I merely play for fun– it is an invaluable tool and gift to my life, as silly as that sounds.

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Last night was my birthday party at a friends house. 4 of my friends had canceled on me before I even made it there, and I was overall in a blah mood, not really wanting to celebrate. The transition from my internship to home has been pretty brutal mentally, so I wasn’t really feeling much like myself. When I walked into my friend Jared’s house, I saw the little yellow banana of bananagrams fame on his kitchen table and laughed, visibly happy at the sight.

“I thought we could maybe play some bananagrams tonight!” Jared said excitedly.

My heart leaped with joy, i was plain giddy. It was the perfect way to end my birthday party– even if I lost twice. (dangit). It really turned my mindset around.

I’m super grateful for friends that know me and my game-loving self well– and that are always willing to stop being adults for awhile and play.

 

(This took longer than 5 minutes, whoops).

 

my board first round (i ALMOST won, but my friend rebecca beat me by about 30 seconds!)

Uncertainty and the unknown.

I believe God has everything figured out for my life. He knows my plans, my desires, my steps before I do.

I really think Paul means what he says in Romans 8:28, “that in all things God works for the good of those who love him who have been called according to his purpose.” He will work out my life and my calling if I follow him, which I try to do everyday.

I also have no idea what the next season of my life looks like, and I really want to know now (or last month, but whatever.) I hate second guessing myself, my abilities and strengths- the rejections and unanswered job applications cut like a knife to my heart. I hate not knowing what’s next. I hate sitting idle in this in-between.  I hate being stuck.

My internship has ended, so now I’m back to where I was last year: figuring out what the heck I want to do or what I even can do for a job. Because for love of Jesus I do NOT want to teach or do anything in education right now (honestly I need a break from kids), but I don’t have the experience to do anything but working with kids. I don’t have enough experience or don’t meet the requirements for any non-kid job I apply for, even ones I have the skills and degree to do. I’ve pigeon holed myself times infinity. It sucks. I was clueless about my job prospects before I took the internship; now I’m not as clueless, but more frustrated that I’m closer to knowing what I want to do, but can’t get a dang job doing it.

I turn 25 on Friday with no career or focus or goal or job prospects, or even and idea of what my future looks like, and this frustrates me to my very core. (And please don’t say “you’re young, you have time to figure it out!”or something of the sort-you may not think it matters, but it matters to ME.)

I don’t want this post to feel like a pity party, but I’m just so stuck and frustrated and exhausted.

I’ve been officially done with my internship for a week. With the exception of one application (for a perfect job for me, that I still haven’t heard anything from), I took a break from the job hunt. I needed to rest and recuperate from an exhausting (albeit wonderful) season of working. I needed some space to breathe. But it wasn’t far from my mind- it rarely is these days.

Now that week is over. I’ve got to get back into gear looking for things I’m qualified for. But I don’t know where to effing start. I just don’t know exactly what I want–or how to find a job that I want that won’t automatically say no for lack of experience. I know what I don’t want, but that’s not really helping me right now.

I just want some sense of direction, something that won’t slam a door in my face. 

—

I was listening to the always-wonderful Annie Downs interview worship leader and musician Chris McClarney on her podcast (it was a great and hilarious interview). They got to talking about his career and how he does multiple jobs at once (worship leading, commercial performing/touring, and songwriting), and their conversation turned into talking about God and plans and things of the like.

When Annie asked him about his different jobs, and figuring out what to do next, he replied, “I’ve always walked through open doors, and waited for the Lord to tell me to stop.”

He then talked about how people tend to wait around for a moment where God tells them what to do or where to go next instead of just walking trough the open door God has provided. Annie went on to add, “they don’t want to see three open doors, they want God to tell them the right open door.”

She hit the nail on the head, at least for me.

I want one door. Just one. Preferably already open, ready for me to walk through without risk or uncertainty. Please, Jesus.

I tend to do a lot of second guessing about a lot of things in my life, and the future is probably the one that I overthink the most.

 

Is this door really open? Is this the right one? What about the others? Are we really sure I should go through this door? What if it’s not the right one? What if I mess it up?

 

I don’t just walk through like Chris does, without (over)thinking my choice, trying to figure out if this is *really* what God wants from me. I struggle with outright trusting that I’m making the right decisions– in reality, I’m struggling more with trusting that God really knows what he’s doing, and that I couldn’t do it better myself.  (Total pride/control thing, I know this about myself. Still working on it). Instead of just trusting that God has opened this door for me to walk through, I hem and haw and question at every turn, hoping God will put a big neon sign on the right door so I know for sure this is where I’m supposed to go.  

That’s not my current struggle, though. Right now, I’m struggling more with finding any door willing to open. I would take having to choose between three doors if it meant I had doors to walk through.

What do you do when you have no doors to choose from? When every door that is possibly cracked open gets slammed shut? What do you do when you just don’t know where any open door is?

I wish I knew. Because it feels like I’m stuck in a room with no doors or windows, no way through to what’s next.

I can’t help but think I should have this all figured out by now. Or at least I should have an idea of how to figure this all out. But I feel so clueless.

No doors in sight. I don’t even know what one would look like if it was in front of me. Or what would be behind it.

The last thing Annie said in this job/doors discussion really got my attention.

You know you  are not going to miss Him, right? If you are saying, “God I want your best for my life,” you are not going to miss him.

I’m not going to miss him no matter what I end up doing. This is both comforting and annoying to me. Comforting knowing that God is with me no matter what, wherever I go he will support me. Is annoying because I want a definitive answer, dang it! I want to know what path I’m supposed to go down, which door I’m supposed to walk through without fear or regret. I love knowing I’m not going to miss him, no matter where I go, but I would love to have at least an idea of where to go.

Chris talked about when he was in a season of transition, and he heard God say to him, “what do you want to do?” He’d never thought of that, he said, but it made him think about how God had given him desires and the like, so he decided that those were what he was going to focus on instead of finding the “right” job or the perfect way. He trusted that God had put these talents, passions, and desires in him for a reason; God gave him the freedom to pursue those things, and opened the doors that allowed him to do so.

 

I want that ability to trust God like that, to trust that he has put in me the desires of my heart, and that He’s given me the skills to accomplish those desires He’s put in me. I want the freedom to pursue the passions and I have, with the talents He has given me.

 

But how do I know what skills and talents I have for this purpose? What if this talent or that skill isn’t meant to be a part of my purpose, but is just supposed to be a hobby?

How do I know my desires are the ones given from God, not my own desires? How do I determine what is  my passion and what is a fleeting thought or in-the-moment desire?

Where do my passions and desires turn into marketable skills I can use to make a career, or where can I turn those skills and passions into a job opportunity that I won’t be rejected from?

I want to believe that God has given me these talents and skills to do something I’m passionate about, something he has placed a desire and dream in me to do.  I want to do something meaningful for a living, something I’m passionate about, and something I’m good at– somewhere my skills and dreams collide.

But is this an actual possibility? From all the applications rejected, unanswered inquiries, interviews declined, jobs unoffered, dream jobs dashed,and tears shed I’m starting to doubt so.

I wish I could end this post with a tidy bow or sweet anecdote, a glimmer of hope the midst of the hard or encouraging charge per my usual. But I can’t right now.

Maybe when all these doors stop slamming in my face.

Open Space-Housefires

Chris McClarney-Thirsty