What if for thirty seconds, I could let down my walls. No disguise. No humor. No sugar coating and just said that sometimes I don't sleep because I can't get my mind to stop racing. Sometimes I curl up in a ball and cry because that's all I know how to do. Even now, as I'm writing this I think, "You can't post this. Someone you know is going to read it, and they are going to think you're crazy."
But now, I'm reminded of a time when I allowed myself to be transparent for five minutes. When I went to college in Tennessee I volunteered at a women's rescue mission. Every Wednesday night a group of gals from my school would go and we would hold chapel for the ladies in this shelter. When my group leader said she wanted everyone to share briefly what coming to the mission meant to them.
I was taken back to a time almost a year ago now when I had started having a panic attack on the way to the mission. Nothing really seemed to trigger it. It just sort of happened. As I sat in the car on the drive to Nashville, all I could think about how I wanted to be in my room with no lights, no sound, no people. Total isolation. But that wasn't possible. So I sat there and tried to remain calm on the outside. When we got where we were going, I stood on the back wall still internally freaking out for no apparent reason. But as I began to sing and worship God with these ladies, my heart rate began to slow. It was like I had become grounded. I was calm. Everything was right.
I didn't share this exact experience with the ladies at the mission. I did tell them that them allowing me to sing with them, them allowing me to hear their voices did something to calm my anxiety. I was so terrified to share this with them. Here so many of them had gone through hell and back in their lives and I, having lived a good life growing up never being in their position, was struggling really really bad. I felt ashamed. I felt guilty. But then I felt like God was telling me, "They deserve to know how they helped to shape your life and help you feel better."
So I told them.
I told them that sometimes my anxiety made things really stinking hard. I told them I make jokes about stress and anxiety to hide just how stressed and just how anxious I was. I shared with them a Bible passage that I had never remembered reading, but God placed into my mind to read. I shared with them how their singing about how God redeems brokenness reminded me that everything would be okay. Everything would be okay because the God of Heaven sees me and He knows me and He loves me and He redeems me.
I remember walking out of the shelter that night, and one of the workers pulled me aside and hugged me and encouraged me. It was one of the sweetest moments I had ever experienced. I am so thankful that God spoke to the fear that told me I couldn't share that I was hurting. In the end, it gave me a moment I could hold on to and remind me of the goodness of God when things get hard.
