A Soapbox on Anxiety

ANXIETY IS NOT A SIN.

Can we stop perpetuating this idea that experiencing anxiety means we are doing something wrong, whether unintentionally or knowingly? Can we stop labeling things like anxiety and depression as ungodly emotions?

I realize now that what I experienced as a child (and have continued to experience throughout my entire life) is anxiety—and whether this is a result of a neurological defect, a personality difference, something spiritual, or a combination of all three, I have no idea. Regardless, anxiety has been a life-long foe. Yet, I have watched the progression throughout my life.

As a child, my difficulty in social situations was merely labeled as ‘shyness’ and was always something I would outgrow. By the time I was a teenager, though, shyness was no longer something semi-cute—it became anxiety that caused meltdowns before and after social situations, that left me sitting quietly away from groups rather than interacting, that left me constantly on edge in relationships, that made me feel absolutely crazy. Suddenly, my internal chaos wasn’t so easily stuffed into a box of childhood shyness. In the realm of church, it was labeled wrong and sinful, and it meant I wasn’t trusting God and that I didn’t read my Bible enough and pray enough.

So please tell me: how is it that experiencing anxiety as a child is ‘acceptable’ to a degree and only mildly concerning, but when you turn 13, it becomes a sin? And when you are an adult, it becomes a sign that you aren’t actually a follower of Jesus? Church, we can do better. So much better.

Anxiety comes at me from all angles at any given moment. Back in August, I was standing in the grocery store getting milk, of all things, and in a moment, my heart was racing, and I couldn’t breathe. There was no imminent threat. My brain was just overwhelmed by the lights and the other people and not being safe at home, and the way that my body typically translates that overwhelm is into panic. Was I sinning in that moment? Was I disobeying God? Was I experiencing something ungodly? Or is it just a way that my brain chooses to respond in its most foundational, human form?

I could be washing dishes and the panic comes; or driving into church, and there’s the panic again. I could be making a grocery list or answering emails. It really doesn’t matter when or where. And, if we are talking socialization, most of my in-person conversations involve me stumbling over words, despite the fact that I teach English for a living, and trying to stay calm while my heart races. Over the last year, I have learned tools for better managing anxiety and for staring it in the face and not letting it win. But it’s still there, ya’ll. It’s still there.

Is this because I don’t trust God enough? Gosh, I’ve never trusted God more—I trust Him to see me through THIS. I trust Him that there’s better to come. I trust Him that HE IS GOOD. I trust Him that one day, He is going to redeem all of this and set me free. I trust Him that, no matter what happens this side of heaven, HE IS WITH ME. And I’ll be honest, anxiety has let me see a lot of God lately because when I have nothing to give, He shows up and does something I know I could never have done or orchestrated myself.

Could anxiety cause me to behave poorly? Sure. If my anxiety is under-managed or stuffed, it has caused me to lose my cool and say things to my children, my spouse, or a friend that are not kind. That is wrong. Anxiety can lead me to isolate, and that is not healthy. Anxiety has caused me to attempt to control situations or people, when I need to surrender those to the Lord. But, at its root, I don’t know how it is that we can continue to say that the experience of anxiety is sin, and that people who struggle with it are not strong enough Christians who don’t have enough faith.

I think sometimes we are afraid to let anxiety off the hook because then we might be giving people permission to use anxiety as an ‘excuse’ to behave poorly. But, we could do that with just about anything, right? Instead, I think that if we could acknowledge anxiety for what it is and give people who struggle in silence a voice, we could begin to step on the Enemy’s toes and find some victory in this. We would begin to see people who have been drowning in anxiety rise up with courage because they could believe that God still has a place and a purpose for them. We would begin to see chains broken and people set free because they’d realize that God is for them, not mad at them because their brains enjoy being chaotic.

There is so much to this conversation, and I am only getting started. I have gotten so many answers in the last year, answers that I have been searching for since I was in elementary school. What I know for sure is that we can’t keep generalizing the topic and bemoaning that “anxiety and depression are on the rise” (that’s a whole other soapbox which I vehemently disagree with); we can’t keep blaming things like screen time and social media; and we can keep offering ‘churchy’ answers, as if reading my Bible 10 more minutes a day would totally make this disappear. Dealing with anxiety from a healthy perspective is multi-faceted and requires a variety of tools and management plans to be successful.

Whether you are 7 or 37 or 77, if you have ever struggled with anxiety or continue to, please know that you are not broken, you are not worthless, and you are not beyond hope. On behalf of anyone who has ever told you that you are not a strong enough Christian or that something is deeply wrong with you or that you need to change in order to have a purposeful life, I am so very sorry. I’ll tell you what I’ve found this year because for the first time in EVER, I fully believe it: Friend who struggles with anxiety, GOD IS FOR YOU and HE HAS GOOD THINGS FOR YOU.

Why I’m Writing About Anxiety & Depression

Nothing like re-entering the writing world talking about what seems to be a very taboo topic. Why am I writing about anxiety and depression, brain-based strongholds that aren’t usually favorable topics in most circles of conversation?

I know some people will think it’s for attention or maybe sympathy or pity. Maybe you’ll think that I just need to get a grip. Maybe you’ll label me crazy or weak or generally altogether not enough and too much, if you haven’t already. But here’s the deal: I don’t need you to understand, and I’m not really writing for you.

I’m writing for myself because this is how I process and part of how I’m becoming a healthier person who knows how to show up better for others. Of course, I could keep that writing to myself and save y’all the trouble from reading thoughts that probably sound irrational.

But I won’t be doing that because I believe that God is setting me free to help other people get free. (And by free, I don’t necessarily know if that will look like the wild chaos of my brain disappearing altogether or never having to experience anxiety and depression again. I’ve never actually believed before that that could be possible, so I’ll be honest, these are new waters I’m walking into.) But by free, I mean God is breaking chains off of me in the forms of shame, control, self-preservation, isolation, desperation, and victimhood. By free, I mean that God is opening pathways for me to learn to LIVE no matter what happens in my mind, and although that’s not the freedom I originally thought it would be, it is freedom nonetheless.

A few years ago, I picked up a book: This Beautiful Truth by Sarah Clarkson. I bought a copy because I enjoyed Sarah’s writing on Instagram and thought the subtitle sounded lovely. I didn’t expect the book to begin my journey of asking for more. In the book, Sarah bravely narrates her own struggles with mental illness – and I was stunned. First of all, had she been inside my mind? Because I’d never heard anyone articulate my lifelong experiences before. I truly thought I was crazy, and in reality, completely alone until I read this book.

Second, here was a girl, raised in a Christian home with loving parents who are pinnacles in Christian parenting and homeschooling. And say what you may about either of those, that’s not the point. The point is this: struggles of the mind are not just experienced by kids who have a poor upbringing or people who experience abuse. What seems most crushing, rather, is that a person like me, who in all respects had a lovely, safe childhood, should NOT struggle. I don’t have a valid reason for this and therefore my struggle is not valid.

Sarah’s honesty validated my experience, my frustration, my disappointment, my confusion, my pain. . . But more importantly pointed me to the hope of possibility, that there can be something more to me than this, that life is still worth living and living well. I know, of course, that Sarah Clarkson didn’t write that book for me; she has no idea who I am other than a huge fan of her work, and I know that her work has reached far more hearts than mine alone. But her words have shaped my path, and if she (and others) can rise above the stigma attached to this topic and explore bravely what it means to be a person of faith who wrestles with an exhausting, confusing tornado of a mind, then I believe I can to.

And so, I also write for the people I know who struggle, for those who have surprised me with their struggle, and for those who struggle in silence because it would be impossible to share that struggle with anyone. I write for my children and for yours, so that maybe one day, there will be resources that aren’t just bandaids. I write to create the content that I don’t see in this field, especially in Christian circles, so that more people can walk in freedom rather than allowing their minds to constantly be sabotaged in a way that leads to nothing more than mere survival.

Wouldn’t it be lovely if I could just be a cute mom who keeps a blog about the meals I cook or the crafts I do with my kids? Wouldn’t it be nice if I could keep a blog about the best books I am reading or our latest vacation. But I cannot. My words have always been an important way to explore, to grow, to choose life – words have been a lifeline in my darkest moments. But these words can’t just be for me; I throw them out as a lifeline for those who need to know or be reminded that hope is possible.

(So, if this conversation isn’t your cup of tea, I give you full permission to skip my work. I won’t be offended, I promise!)

Feature Photo by Sebastian Arie Voortman: https://www.pexels.com/photo/body-of-water-during-golden-hour-189349/