ananxioussheep

[ananxioussheep]

Productivity and Guilt

Sometimes the most productive thing you can do for yourself is be unproductive. 

Yeah, I said it. The most productive thing you can do for yourself is be unproductive.

This thought has been sitting with me for the last couple of weeks as Jacob and I come close to the end of an extremely hard chapter of life. 

I’ve been wrestling with myself to “do more” and “perform better” and “show up harder” and “get it done” when really I needed to do nothing. I felt guilty and not good enough and shame because I wasn’t “doing”. And you know what happened when I showed up and did more and did better and just did for the sake of doing? I got burnt out. I lost dedication to the things and people that I loved. And that wasn’t good for me, or for anyone else. 

I’ve realized that some people who are super productive are actually just avoiding quiet time. You see, there are two type of people, those who are comfortable with silence and those who are not. Ask yourself, seriously, are you able to sit across from another person and say and/or do nothing with them and be comfortable? If not, then I challenge you to search yourself, your esteem, your intentions, and your heart. There is likely something dark hiding there that is keeping you from being comfortable in the silence and the stillness. 

I think a lot of people are getting “itchy” for things to do. I’d challenge you to sit back down and search your heart and mind for the ways you can grow. 

If I’m being honest, I’ve been “itchy” to “do things” and “go out” but the best thing for me lately has been my bed, my sleep, and Gilmore Girls. The more time I spend with music, my husband, and my Father the better I get at being unproductive. And when I’m unproductive I recharge. And when I recharge I am a better spouse, a better servant, a better employee, and a better me.

This doesn’t give you an excuse to not do your laundry or vacuum the house, it means that once the things that get you through the day are done, that it’s okay and it’s good to do absolutely nothing. Don’t let anyone else’s level of productivity tell you otherwise. Listen to your body, listen to your mental health, check the state of your relationships... if any of those things are weak, lacking, or burnt out just stop everything and take care of you. Silence your mind, spirit, and heart. Be unproductive.

[ananxioussheep]

Dreaming and Dreading

I don’t know about you, but I love to dream. If you’re a human being and you’re breathing today you probably have a dream about something, amirite? For those of us with anxiety and depression, dreaming can be exciting, overwhelming, crippling, and heartbreaking; all at once. When you struggle with the fight against your thoughts you tend to deeply internalize the worst possible scenarios and “truths” (lies) about how your dreams will pan out. For me, I’ve been thinking (& internet searching) for a place to live. Doesn’t that seem so simple? A roof over your head? For me though, I dream of a piece of land, lush and full of life. A place where I can have chickens, and cows, and goats, and babies. My heart aches, it literally burns and hurts and sinks when I imagine these dreams becoming a reality... and then despair and doubt sets in: “will we ever have enough money, will we ever be out of debt, will my body ever be able to actually have a baby, am I going to miscarry again, what if the medical bills don’t stop rolling in, am I making enough money, am I doing enough, did I try hard enough this week, ugh my paycheck was short because I was sick last week, crap I have to pay for counseling, we will never make it will we? where are we going to go next? I didn’t do enough, I am not enough” You get the point. My thoughts literally spiral. I stop. I pray. I put on worship music. I get the thoughts away and then... they come back. Wash, Rinse, Repeat. It’s like clockwork some days. 

And then, other days I dream and I see a future where I have a big green piece of grass. My babies are running around. I’m collecting eggs from the coop. Milking the goats. Birthing a calf. Growing our food. Teaching our children. Watching our puppies run around. I see the dream and my heart feels warm. I trust God that he hears and feels and sees the desires of our hearts and will help us bring them to fruition. I remember that good things take time. God generally makes us wait for our best. But he wants us to dream. I see the success of the dreams of those around me and I know that God loves me just the same as them and that my story just looks a little different. I’m thankful for dreaming and for dreamers.

Today I’m choosing to believe that my dreams will come true (with hard work, time, dedication, tears, sweat, and most importantly patience). Today I’m choosing to believe that I am doing enough. That I will have a life abundant and full of good things. Today I choose to fight my thoughts with prayer and worship and thanksgiving. 

Sometimes dreams feel like they are just thoughts and desires. However, in this season I am learning that dreams actually take the form of choices. Day after day. Dollar after dollar. And thought after thought. 

How can you change your thinking and your actions today to support your dreams? 

John 10:10  I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of. {MSG}

Galatians 6:9  So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up. {NLT}

[ananxioussheep]

Out of Control

Control. One of the most controversial words in our vocabulary. When we use this word people are afraid that they’re going to be trapped into your ideals, ideas, or plans (anyone else out there been called a control freak?). Yet, in the struggle with mental health control is one of the biggest factors in my anxiety. When I am out of control, I feel like my life is spinning and that everyone around me is writing my story for me. Lately, I’ve had zero control of my life. I’m realizing more and more that the only thing I can control is my response to things. Easier said than done, am I right? I’ve also been thinking a lot about how so much of my anxiety comes from wanting to make sure I don’t “mess up”. I’m always concerned with how I respond to others, what my actions are perceived as, and just not making mistakes. I feel so much guilt and shame when I mess up, make others feel bad, or when I’m not liked by others. So, in my anxious mind, all I can think is that the more I can control the more that I won’t make mistakes and that others will be pleased.

The problem here is that 1. I’m spending way too much time thinking about others. God knows my heart and intention and that should be the only thing that matters as I go through my day and decisions. 2. The more I try to control, the less I’m letting God write my story. Somehow I need to relinquish control and give in to the things going on around me. Instead of feeling shame for having feelings regarding the things in my life, I need to validate them within myself and with those that matter and then move on. And 3. I was reminded this past week that the only righteous one around is God and that no matter how hard I try to be perfect, please everyone, and not make mistakes, it’s just never going to happen (accepting that is still a work in progress though).

Don’t get me wrong, I definitely don’t believe we should just go through life letting others make our decisions. There’s still a sense of autonomy and responsibility in giving up control. We still have to be true to ourselves and make sure our lives are our own. The difference is realizing when we can and when we can’t control a situation. 

For example, I’ve been trying to gain any traction in the realm of my mental health. On the real, things haven’t been good lately. So, back to the psychiatrist, I go to find some cocktail of pharmaceuticals that can help me. Not having them just wasn’t an option anymore. I left that appointment feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time. On the other hand, right now Jacob and I are living with family. I’ve had to give up control of what all of the aspects of my life look like so that in the future things can be even better. Sometimes the best things can come from a short sacrifice (we’ve already paid off a chunk of debt and we’re only a week into the year!).

This whole situation has been teaching me that the more I give up control, the more I actually gain. Although I can’t control all of the things I normally do, this situation has forced me to lean on the Lord more. 

Here are some bible verses to meditate on the next few days as you focus on understanding how control plays a role in your life and maybe for realizing how much you let your controlling nature impact your emotional and mental health. 

Philippians 4:6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 

Psalm 9:10 Those who know your name trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you.

[ananxioussheep]

When Christmas Doesn’t Feel Merry

Honestly, I’ve written a lot of posts over the past few days that I just haven’t had the strength to post. This year has been extremely challenging for me. My depression has been the worst it has ever been. My anxiety has been at an all-time high. Nothing has seemed to help. I’ve been writing for the purpose of just getting out how I feel these past few days and my feelings have ranged from frustrated, to angry, lonely, exhausted, sad, and ashamed. The one thing I haven’t felt is happy. I’ve been looking forward to the New Year in anticipation of a fresh start and knowing that things are going to get better. But, I’ve been letting that date get in my way of being happy and excited now for what is to come. I was having a really difficult time this week getting perspective. I realized that instead of just writing down all of my negative feelings (which is totally good and necessary) I also needed to write down some positive things. I think sometimes those of us who struggle with mental health get so caught up trying to understand and express our difficult feelings that our thoughts just so overpower the idea that anything good is still out there. It takes intense work for people who struggle with mental health to change their perspective. So today, that’s what I worked on. I also started this blog because I wanted to bring Jesus into the conversation surrounding mental health in hopes that it helps someone and quite frankly He’s the only thing that will bring you true perspective and joy. 

I know I’m not the only one out there overwhelmed and hurt and stressed by the holidays so here are some helpful tips to get you in the Christmas spirit and things that I have been doing to try to cheer myself back up: 

1. Cut out social media

The worst thing we can do when we’re feeling down is scroll though everyone else’s highlight reels. I’ve also been making a conscious effort to “unfollow” anyone who I compare myself negatively to. 

2. Watch some holiday movies or do something that brings out the warm and fuzzies in you. 

3. Write a gratitude list, big or small. 

Today mine said:

You are loved by those around you

I have the best husband

I am blessed

4. Write out some truth’s about your life

Today mine said: 

It will not be like this forever

It’s ok to be sad

You are not alone

God works everything together for good

You will have a baby

5. Worship. 

Although today is hard and this season has been a constant uphill battle there is always something to be thankful for (even when it doesn’t feel like it). 

I can’t wait to go to service tonight and have an intimate moment of thankfulness with God. 

I think that when we are at our worst and we still find a moment to thank Him, it means all the more to Him. Even if it seems like no one out there knows how you feel, God does. He feels and sees all your going through so who cares if you’re misunderstood by others, God understands you. Who cares if you feel judged, God isn’t judging you. His opinion is the only one that matters this Christmas season. He is the reason we do this every year. Try not to get lost in the small stuff. You can do this. 

[ananxioussheep]

When Your Mental Illness is Stronger Than Your Medication...

I'm going to be real here, I think this post needs to be more of an open conversation than me giving out any good wisdom because I am truly stumped here.

Here's the question: What do you do when your anxiety is stronger than your medication? 

Take more? And more? And more? Push through? Just deal with it? Quit your job? Leave all your relationships? Just take the issue away from everyone and just be alone? 

My real issue here is sleep. Some nights it takes 4 or more pills to get me to sleep. And often times I'm mixing seratonin modulators and benzos which you are really not supposed to do. But if I don't I end up with what last night was for me: A whopping 2 hours of sleep where I woke up 4 times. Not to mention the night before I only got 4 hours. 

This is a serious issue for me. My anxiety is bad during the day, but an unrelenting monster at night. I am now feeling worse about myself because I'll be useless and extra on edge today. When I lay down at night I think of every single thing I've messed up that day. I think of every way I could have disappointed someone. I think of every piece of what's going on in my life and how hard it all has been. And it just plays on a loop. Over. And over. And over again. For hours.

I have tried EVERYTHING. Supplements, Melatonin, Essential Oils, Meditation, Lavender, TV on, TV off, Phones off, Extra blinds, a noise machine, yoga, and about 7 different sleep medications. I'm drowning.

The other issue I have is that when I get anxious I get extremely irritable. Last night I literally could not sit next to Jake while he ate because of the intensity of what I was hearing when he was chewing. I feel like such a jerk because he's just eating, but I hear every. little. movement. amplified so loud. I take my meds and realize there's something deeper going on when these things happen but it doesn't always help. Anyone have any advice?

[ananxioussheep]

Honesty

For the literal first time in my life I did something totally for myself, I was honest with others about what I need. It was the most liberating thing to say, "I'm overwhelmed and I can't go on this way anymore." Not only was doing that helpful, but realizing it was well received also took a huge weight of anxiety off of me. I think I'm finally learning how to live for me and still make a difference for others. My immediate response in my internal dialogue is that if I care too much about me I won't have room to serve others, but both are possible. And I'd even argue that it's more possible to serve others when you've made room and light for yourself first.

Something I'm learning along the way is that there's a time and place for brutal honesty. With my family? Yes. With my friends? Yes. With my bosses? Yes. With the random people who are passing by and saying how are you? Probably not...

Here's what I mean: I recently went on a vacation. My husband and I left a few days after I miscarried and when I returned people asked how it was, and how impeccable the timing was, and sure it was definitely good to get away and disconnect after all that, but it was hard. We cried a lot. And so when I said our vacation was just "okay" people were outraged. It was frustrating because in that moment people had already forgotten what had happened to me. They expected that a Caribbean vacation should immediately be enjoyable, regardless of emotional turmoil. Imagine losing your close family member and taking a vacation the next week... Would you be entirely happy? Would you have the best trip regardless or no? Chances are if you have a heart you'd find a way to enjoy it but you might also have a wet pillow at night. My eyes open more and more daily to how unrealistic the expectations we put on others are.

I was snapped back into understanding that some people have a really good sense of awareness when a friend walked up to me at church the next week. It had been less than 2 weeks since the miscarriage and my husband and I both served on worship that morning. My friend stopped me after service and said, I can't imagine being where you guys are and getting up here anyway to worship God and lead others in it. I thought about it too and honestly had a lot of thoughts leading up to the weekend about backing out because honestly it's extremely hard to worship God when your child has been ripped away far too soon, yet we did it anyway, with joy, and praise, and support, and hopeful thanksgiving for the future. I felt so seen that someone understood and saw what we were dealing with, yet how we did "the thing" anyway.

If only everyone was like, wow, you made it to work everyday this week? Good for you! (Seriously this was a huge accomplishment for me this week). Wow, you found the strength to eat healthy and workout this week? Yes girl. Wow, you keep praying and believing and going on even though you're still passing clots (Literally still passing clots 3 weeks later y'all)... How do you do it? (Jesus)

It reminds me over and over of the simple fact that we never know what's going on for others. While most everyone has moved on from what happened to us just 20 some days ago... I have not. Thank you to those who have shown us grace, and love, and continue to shield us with prayer... The impact you've made during this time is eternal. I'm glad to say that I am moving forward (slowly). I'm making plans for what's next. We are moving literally and figuratively into the next season. One of healing and health and growth and things for ME.

[ananxioussheep]

My Miscarriage Journey

Today: Tuesday, October 1st 

On October 1st, 2019 our journey of parenthood was put on an indefinite pause. What started as a routine check-up for the day became our worst nightmare. The second you find out you're pregnant is the most exciting and terrifying moment. You immediately change everything you are doing to ensure your baby is healthy. For me, unfortunately, our baby was not going to be. When I met my midwives that morning I went in for a Doppler check. My midwife was going to look around to find our baby's heartbeat. We couldn't find it the week before. She told me before she had even started last week not to worry if that happened since the baby could be behind my pubic bone or could still just be too small. When we didn't hear it we scheduled a recheck for next week once the baby grew a little more and I kept my bladder full for the check so that my uterus would hopefully be in a better position to finally meet our baby. Three midwives tried with no success. They told me a number of things could be happening, maybe I'm not as far along as we all thought, maybe my uterus wasn't shaped the way it was supposed and baby is just in a different spot, or maybe I was experiencing what is called a missed miscarriage. I left their center and headed to get an ultrasound. Jacob was at work for the day because we thought I was going to be having an easy check-up and I would be leaving with a video for him so he could meet our baby. When I got to the radiology center and saw what was happening I immediately knew this wasn't good. I spent a long year as a vet tech and have seen lots of ultrasounds. I had lots of pregnant friends and knew what I should see. I have a biology degree and have studied a lot of reproduction. When the tech turned the screen my way I saw my uterus. And I saw where my baby should be and wasn't. She decided she wanted to do a transvaginal ultrasound to be sure. If you know what this is then you know this is the last thing you want to be doing as your fighting back tears waiting for the inevitable. We found that although I was past 12 weeks, my baby stopped developing around week 7. My body still thought (and still thinks as I write this) that I was pregnant. I now have to walk around for who knows how many days still being pregnant and waiting to labor this child. Jake and I spent the day sobbing. Wondering what we could have done differently. I spent my time talking with God. Asking him if he had changed his mind about thinking if I was going to be a good mother. We told our family and friends and bosses that we would be missing for a while. That we were not going to be meeting our sweet baby in April. That our dream was ending for now. And that we wanted some time and space to process. Right now it's 6 am. I've fallen asleep for 2 hours. My mind can not shut off. I can't stop thinking about how this fight isn't over and I still have to “have” this baby. I can't stop thinking about the fact that we already announced because things were good. I was really sick for weeks so that must mean we have a healthy baby. My body still thinks I'm pregnant. I spent 4 hours last night having reflux and puking. But I still have not had a bit of spotting. We haven't taken a step toward “having” this baby. Part of me wonders if I just keep going along like I'm pregnant maybe God will perform a miracle. But most of me doesn't want to hold onto any hope because that would hurt more. It's crazy how quickly the best season of your life turns into the worst. 

72 Hours Later: Friday, October 4th 

Take day 3. It's been over 72 hours since we found out we lost this baby. I haven't made any progress in “having” this baby. I am angry. And I'm drinking and I'm almost entirely dependent upon my anxiety medication. My husband who never cries is crying a lot and I don't know how to help. I'm ready to have this child, bury this child, and begin to move on. This is the most challenging, devastating, and world-altering. I have so many doubts? Will I ever be able to be a mother? I want to try now, as soon as possible, but Jake's pain is too much to get there now. Will I ever heal from this? Am I capable of going on? 

6 Days Later: Monday, October 7th

Yesterday I called my midwife sobbing. I just can't wait for my body to do this anymore. I can't keep walking around like everything is fine with my lifeless angel inside me. Help. I'll get the pill on Tuesday. I'm reading the same scriptures over and over and over. Jake finished a 1000 piece puzzle in 8 hours and didn't sleep last night. I hid in the office at work all day because I can't afford to not be there. Worship music non-stop. Jesus as much as possible. And literal devastation. How can you miss something that's still inside you? We decided to name our baby even though we don't know what it is. Our baby deserves a name. Emerson, it means brave and powerful (I just keep referring to her as Emmie because I had so many dreams about it being a girl). Exactly what our angel is. And exactly what we will have to be these next few months. I'm planning a tattoo of rosemary their purple blooms which signify love and remembrance and I've decided our baby is a honeybee. All my dreams and plans during this pregnancy have been around bees. When I looked up their meaning I found that they extract sweetness from life, and represent abundance, brightness, and personal power. Because of our sweet little baby bee our family will learn all of these things this season. And now, we wait to finally do this tomorrow; have this baby. 

Tuesday, October 8th, 11:55 PM

Preparing for a long night ahead as I FINALLY started bleeding. As absolutely devastating as this moment is I'm so relieved to finally let this baby move through my body naturally and I'm it's timing. I was scheduled to pay another $300 tomorrow for another ultrasound for confirmation to get the medication. I am praying to God and have been asking him to let this be the way this happens. So now. At midnight Jacob and I are running to Walmart for freaking incontinence pads for old people. All because we decided we wanted to love each other a little tonight and I guess that's all baby needed. To know Jake and I still love each other. (He will literally hate me for that but guess what most happy marriages have sex lives, it's totally biblical y'all). Part of me feels terrible for celebrating right now and I know it won't feel like this as the pain and bleeding continue but right now, I'm proud of Jake and me for getting through this and so proud of our baby for trying as hard as it could in this short little life. 

Wednesday, October 9th, 10:00 AM

Well, I barely bled at all so to the Dr. we go to get this process rolling for real. Last night I held my tummy and told my baby how proud I am of him or her. It fought so hard for this life. And it's fighting so hard to get to the other side of this life. I'm so ready for us all to be at rest and be ready to heal. Jacob and I are realizing how perfect God's timing is. Although we were pretty annoyed when we didn't get to go on our Labor Day cruise I can now see that God perfectly planned this time away for us. I'm believing it's going to be so healing. And it also helps give me perspective that God knows exactly what he's doing with this little babe. They were just too precious to be earthside. I find a lot of comfort knowing we have a personal angel caring for us from above. 

Wednesday 5:30 PM 

Here we go. Pain. Cramps. Aches. I'm tired already and it hasn't even begun. 

Thursday, October 10th, 1:00 AM

3 pills in. I'm finally losing my mind. I just woke up Jake with my crying because I officially feel like I have lost at the game of life. I currently feel insufficient as a wife, a friend, an employee, and especially as a mom. I'm looking back on this year and honestly, it has been the most miserable and lonely year of my life. And this moment has been by far the hardest. There is no pain that can compare to watching pieces and clumps of cells that should have been your child fall out of you. And having to force your body to do it with pill after pill because after 7 weeks it still won't understand that it's not going to have this baby. I don't recognize myself or my life anymore. For the past 8 weeks we've known about this baby I finally felt purposed again. I was working toward a goal. A life that I saw so much fulfillment in. And all of a sudden it's just gone. Nothing can prepare you for these moments. I'm so deeply pressed for anyone who has ever and will ever do this and I'm trying to imagine how I will dig myself out of this. Here's what I know, one, I will not apologize for doing the things that are best for me and two, I will speak up about this experience as much as possible because this baby deserves a memory and this experience deserves to be de-stigmatized. My head is throbbing, my back is throbbing, the pain is so deep in my abdomen that I am nauseous yet nothing else is happening. I'm just exhausted. Physically, Spiritually, Emotionally. I'm fried. 

Thursday: 8:30 AM 

I was wondering why everyone kept saying you would know when it happened because I really didn't think I would know, but then it happened. Feeling dizzy, nauseous, and a little more empty. I love you little babe. 

Friday, October 11th

Today we took what remained of our little and planted a tree. It’s the first thing I see every day when I walk in the door. 

Sunday, October 13th - Sunday, October 20th

Time for “vacation” In the photos we took and posted are beautiful mountain ranges, conquered fears, crystal clear oceans, and lots of smiles. On the other side of those photos was a lot of time spent mourning and grieving. While I'm so thankful to have the opportunity to have moments like these it does not change how hard these past few days/weeks have been. I'm so proud of the steps Jacob and I took to enjoy this vacation as much as we could. I'm happy to say we have learned so much and are a stronger couple now than we were just weeks ago. But I would be lying if I uploaded all those smiles and didn't share the tears that were behind them each and every day. At the dinner table. On the beach. At the top of a mountain. There's no convenient time to suffer loss. While others might forget, Jacob and I will not. While others might feel it's time to move on, I'm not ready to. While others think we are supposed to smile, we have to cry. Don't mistake this for a pity party, but understand that miscarriage is excruciating on your mind, body, and soul. It's time we start being more honest with ourselves and others with the state of our hearts. I wanted to shed some light on our week. I wish I could say our vacation was all I hoped for and that I experienced so much healing during this time as I wished I was going to, but I didn't. I hope this encourages someone else today to know that it's ok to not be ok for a while and to be a little more honest with themselves and others about the state of their heart. I'm confident God has a plan for this as he works all together for good. 

Monday, October 21st 

I went back to work today and spent the night before sleeping a total of 2 hours and having panic attacks all night long. I spent my lunch break having one of the worst panic attacks I ever had, my breathing was so stifled I almost called 911 I was sure I was going to pass out. I walked away into the back office and cried for over an hour because someone asked me if I had kids… I’m feeling like it’s impossible to live in this world now. This whole process and loss hurts more now than it did when I found out or as I was living the miscarriage itself.  I am literally dragging myself out of bed day to day as a necessity and 3 times my normal dose of meds still aren't doing the job. So I guess the whole gist of this whole story is… It’s ok to not be ok... 

...I struggled with where to end this post because truly the end of this post isn’t the end of this process, but I hope this gives you insight into the brokenness of this process for so many women. I’m happy to answer any and all questions surrounding this devastating situation. Education is power, in all circumstances. 

[ananxioussheep]

Depression is Romantic

If you’ve experienced depression you know how insanely romantic it can be. There’s something overwhelmingly seductive about loneliness, sadness, doubt, and self-pity. I know that this is super counter productive for those of us trying to drag ourselves out of those feelings. And probably super confusing for those around us who love us and want us to prosper. It reminds me of the Israelites wandering in the desert. It’s almost like they were there for so long because it was more comfortable to be uncomfortable than to make hard decisions and choose freedom. Sometimes I wonder how much of it is misfiring neurons and how much of it is darkness clinging to whatever I’ll let it cling to. The problem with this enigma too, is that those of us who struggle with this love to commiserate and if you’ve ever heard the saying “hurt people, hurt people” then you know exactly what I mean. But then the pain cycles us back into this place of comfort and it’s easier to stay there. That’s the ugliest damn thing about mental illness. It’s easier to stay in it, than to get out of it. The Israelites missed GENERATIONS worth of beauty and blessings because they CHOSE to wander instead of fight. Today, I choose to fight. To find happiness and joy in writing this post, in listening to beautiful music created by people who feel all of the things I feel and maybe more, I choose to let my husband love me (a not hurt person) a way that I never let myself deserve to be loved before him. I choose to let God, the great rescuer and redeemer remind me today, that community, differences, and people are all good things and that the harder choices are almost always the better ones.

[ananxioussheep]

Panic Attacks

If you’ve never had one you might wonder what it’s like for someone who does. I’m going to be extremely vulnerable here so I hope this helps someone who’s seeking to understand what it might be like for someone with an anxiety disorder who suffers from panic Attacks. These look different for everyone (& even for me have evolved over time) but here’s my story. My first panic attack was my junior year in high school. I remember because it happened in the atrium at my highschool and this is where the coveted upperclassmen lockers were. I was extremely driven in highschool and by my junior year was fully a college student taking an entire schedule of AP and Dual Enrollment courses. I think it’s important to note that my parents put ZERO pressure on me to succeed in highschool. I was so thankful that my parents weren’t the kind who would “ground me” if I didn’t do well. All the ever expected was that I “do my best” which apparently in my head meant “better than everyone else”. I didn’t get my first C until my senior year in AP Stats (which I still got a C in while in college so 🤷). Anyway, I was standing in the atrium before classes started for the day and I remember feeling intense pressure in my chest and I started uncontrollably and inconsolably sobbing and hyperventilating. I don’t remember much after that except for thinking I wasn’t sure why I was crying and I needed to pull myself together and get to class (something important was due as it always was). That year I began experiencing anxiety frequently. To combat it I began starving myself and cutting myself. If I was experiencing anxiety in class I would scratch myself in a small spot on my wrist until it would bleed (like when you scratch a bug bite too hard). I kept everything from my parents and lied about lunches for months and “wasn’t hungry at dinner”. I was able to cope hurting myself all day via cutting and starvation that by the time I got home I was ready to burst and would sob in my room as I did in the atrium for what at first seemed like hours (and probably was). I remember being so inconsolable at times I called some friends over one night to talk me down. I’ll never remember the way they stepped in for me that night and reminded me of all the reasons I could live past this, one of them is still one of my best friend to this day and I still go to him when I’m feeling like a basket case. I moved away for my first year of college and all I remember is that year was more lonely than anything. I think maybe looking back I thought a change of scenery might change my problems, it did not. When I moved back to Florida after a year in Charleston I began experiencing my panic attacks again. This time they would happen at work and I was unable to control them. I had a hard time explaining them and would often find myself taking breaks to cry in the bathroom or the walk-in so I could get it out. Nothing would necessarily even spur them but I felt that I couldn’t function normally and I began to turn to drugs for help. Not the legal ones. I went to a tailgate in South Carolina to visit a friend after a particularly hard break up and tried benzos for the first time. I realized how much they calmed me and that I could definitely make these things work. However, at 19 you don’t do anything in moderation so benzos kept me calm during the day and then when work was over and the party was beginning coke, or the occasional Molly would keep me up. The best and worst thing about that period of my life is that I never had any panic attacks. Ironic isn’t it? The one time I’m tearing down my life instead of building it up I stop being anxious. Obviously it was all the crap I was using but somehow that was the most peaceful yet chaotic part of my life. At some point during this season I got on an antidepressant that ruined and saved my life at the same time. Lexapro made me blackout randomly. Sometimes literally and other times it was like someone else was in my body. One particular day I wasn’t feeling great and decided to go home early from work. I blacked out while going 40 miles per hour and caused a 4 car pile up. I had to be cut out of my car because I had crushed my drivers side door on impact. My self and everyone else thankfully only left with a few bruises and burns but it was in that moment I realized how much I was ruining my life and probably really didn’t want to die (despite my actions looking that way). I still carry a lot of shame from my days of drug use and it affects me still. However, now my panic attacks are raw, real, and rough. I medicate (legally now) as little as possible but they are more intense than ever. I still cope during the day and use different breathing and grounding techniques to try to get me through my day and well as this weird habit of counting my fingers on each hand with my thumb really fast just to get my mind onto something else. Whatever works, ya know? I have to work and bring home a paycheck and support my family even on days where it seems impossible. Usually I’ll have my panic attacks on my lunch break or at the end of a long day. I’m a strong introvert on that ever sliding scale and my capacity for connections is about 40 a day. My job currently requires a lot more of me than that and I find myself on nights like tonight where the second I get in the car my breathing stops, I start to struggle, my throat gets that annoying “you’re about to cry lump” and then I inconsolably and uncontrollably hyperventilate and cry usually for at least 15-30 minutes. At this point I usually grab for my medication or else it means a night where neither myself or my husband get to sleep. I then go into a phase where I finally stop crying where I start questioning… why did that happen, am I ok, am I ever going to be able to go to work and home and not do this? Then I get angry. I get mad at myself for not being “stronger” or better or being able to talk myself out of it. I get mad that I had to take a stupid pill so we can all sleep tonight. Then I get angry because I question my sanity and my capability to function as a normal person. If I don’t take my meds it means I will inconsolably cry in bed with my husband holding me until 3 am. One of my recurring panic attack thoughts is “will I ever be "normal”“, "will I ever be able to function normally”. I get so mad at myself for not pulling it together and just being fine. But the problem is just overwhelming. It can make you feel like you will never have a day where it doesn’t happen. You never know when it will happen (Jake and I almost always have to leave concerts early bc I get overwhelmed and start to panic) and it’s upsetting to miss out of life. I wish I could explain the way these moments traumatize you and callous you to the world. And like most things I think my panic attacks are the byproducts of a lot of little things over time. Problem is, they’re all things out of my control. I wish I knew why this happens and I’m starting to unravel a lot more of the physiology of it in an amazing book I’m reading right now (The Body Keeps The Score) but tonight’s panic attack was brought to you by the overstimulation of my brain and how unable I am to cope with mass amounts of people. But as you heard earlier, I like challenging myself. I like being the best. I like finishing first. And so I stick with the things I’ve committed to and always try to get better. I know the things that bring me peace, and I try to do as much of them as I can to avoid nights like this. But, doesn’t always happen. Today’s the best example of that. I woke up read, spent 30 mins in worship and was feeling amazing. Fast forward and I want to quit everything in my life and go move away and hide in a cave because this is one of the most embarrassing and hard to explain issues people are facing today. I hope that someone finds comfort in this, knowing they’re not the only one. I hope someone finds knowledge in this for more understanding and compassion for those struggling with anxiety. It’s not just “weak” people who need to “suck it up”. It’s uncontrollable, can strike at any time, and is catastrophic to self worth and image and even the guilt that it bring for having our family members suffer through it with us. It breaks my heart when Jake sees me like that. He feels like it’s his fault and he feels like he can’t fix it. It creates doubt for my family that I’ll be ok or maybe even my parents feel like they did something wrong. They didn’t. No one did. Except probably me choosing drugs and men and cutting and anorexia to soothe the pain. Now I choose Jesus. And I’ll be real here… he’s the best but he’s not always the easiest or quickest option. Healing takes time. Be patient with yourself and others.

[ananxioussheep]

It’s Not Your Fault

Hey, I’m Mel for those of you who haven’t stopped by yet. I wanted to create a healthy space where I could share my mental health journey with those around me. I know there’s a lot of people out there who are trying to get better about sharing the shadowed parts of their souls, but I don’t think enough people are out there doing it with God holding the flashlight and exposing our scars. I think in the church especially we tend to want and feel that everyone needs to have their stuff together, but that’s a lie, and it creates a divide where we feel that we can’t share our pain. I want to create a place where we can share our pain and help get a better understanding that mental illness is real and it’s impacting more people around us than we realize on a deeper way than anyone can understand.

I want my journey to be one that includes the Lord, but doesn’t ignore my hurt.

If you’re reading this you probably know the hurt I’m talking about (or maybe you just better want to understand those around you that hurt… extra brownie points for you guys!) You know the hurt I’m talking about though. It’s the kind of hurt that makes you anorexic in high school, cut yourself with razors and even dig your own fingernails into your wrists until they bleed and scar. The kind of pressure that pushes you to borrow adderall in highschool so you can pass all 10 AP tests and score 383 points better on your SAT’s than the last time. The kind that drives you to expose your body and let men tear away pieces of your soul one after another. The kind that leads you to a life of turning your back on your family and turning your emptiness towards drugs. Sleepless nights filled with lines of cocaine and mornings nursing the xanax to pull you back down into a full week of missing the sunlight. Molly at parties and shows, acid to try to connect again… This pain is the kind that leads to men that “love you” yet hold you down against your will and force their impetus into uninvited vitality and violently throw large objects your way to make sure you know you have to stay in your lane, or else. The kind that drives you to consciously choose to “forget” the seatbelt hoping someone else’s stupidity will just do the job you want done yourself but are too guilty to fully consider.

And then somehow God saves you. He just stops you in the middle of all of the hurt and pulls you right back. For me, it meant getting a ticket for not wearing my seatbelt a week before getting into a 4 car pile-up in which I had to be cut out of my car. It was a moment God showed me he was using and that he was deep within no matter how painful or terrible it was.

This year the pain has been marriage. Letting my husband love me even when I’ve been raped and abused and hit by men of my past. It’s been losing an uncle, a dear and close soul who taught me so much of who I am and was always happy. It’s been changing jobs to try to get ahead yet with all the student debt it still isn't enough. Will we ever be able to buy a home? It’s the pain of somehow feeling like I cannot possibly compare vocally to the other girls on the platform around me right now. It’s the fact that we are staring thousands of dollars of medical bills in the face this year because I need multiple surgeries. It’s a tug of war with desire and reality.

Yet, my husband sits there and looks at me every single time (even when I’m wrong) and says “it’s not your fault… none of this is your fault”. Isn’t that just what God does?… he just takes the blame. Just like that. All we have to do is let him.

If only it was that easy… Let’s journey together to try to figure that part out.

[ananxioussheep]

Meet The Sheep

Hi, I’m Mel! 

I’m a twenty five year old, a Jesus lover, biologist, chiropractic assistant, sea turtle warrior, dog sitter, walker, lover, training for a marathon, worship leader, jeopardy loving, INFJ who just cannot shut off her brain (as evidenced by the 200 things I do that I just listed above). My husband, Jacob, is a smart-home programmer and service technician, a pretty killer basketball player, and pretty much knows everything about everything I know nothing about. We couldn’t complete each other better. 

Jacob and I got married back in November, on Thanksgiving weekend, with 180 of our closest friends! Yes, 180. My mom is the third youngest of eight and so between aunts, uncles, and cousins there are over 90 of us and we consider that immediate family because we all love each other so very much. If you haven’t figured it out by the sheer ridiculousness of how we are there can only be one place we hail from... New York, Long Island to be exact. My husband, however, is the youngest of six and he thoroughly expects me to pop out as many as possible, but he knows it’s not happening (two and if they’re both boys we’re adopting a girl (😜). We have a sweet old man hound dog rescue named Mak who doesn’t do anything but sleep and eat and we’re all ok with that. He’s good at being our best friend and we like it that way (for now). 

My dream is to own land, cattle, poultry, goats, pigs, birds, whatever comes our way. We could grow our own food (or as much as we can) and teach our children how to love like Jesus and make smart choices and do math all from home. These are lofty goals but somehow there’s so much more to them than this. I’d love a science co-op of my own and a dog rescue on our property and apparently, endless cash flow to make it all happen... 😂

All of those thoughts bring me so much peace and joy. But today, this blog isn’t always going to be that spot. I’m creating this space to shine a light to the darkness. To be real about a walk of severe anxiety, depression, and PTSD. I’m here to help others journey through what I’ve journeyed through, and hopefully, get some help in the continuance of my walk (for you and me). 

So why “An Anxious Sheep”? In the bible, we see sheep recognized and understood and represented as God’s people. Sheep are always in flocks and they tend to have thick skin and a coat that is good for creating things. I can see a similarity between me as a person, and me with my mental health as a sheep. Sheep are in flocks right, and so I want to create a community here of sheep (followers of Christ) who have created a thickened skin and are calloused to the world (& need to be softened) or on the other hand who are incredibly soft and fluffy (and way too sensitive) yet all purposeful to the world if we can just get past the idea of “just being a sheep”. Sometimes, when you struggle with mental illness you feel like you’re just another person, just another sheep in the flock. I’m here to remind myself, and whoever will listen, that we are purposed. That if we left the flock, God would follow, because we are important and our being can create things unique to us and God’s calling on us. We have beauty and purpose on our insides and outsides. 

God has been prompting me to step out of my comfort zone into something like this for a while. Sometimes I’ll just get on here and blab about my week and how I dealt with my mental health, other times I’ll celebrate victories, sometimes I might share recipes or adventures that are Jake approved (he knows good food and how to have a good time). I’m not sure of all the details, but I’m sure that God is asking me to do this now and without hesitation and trust that the rest will come… so here goes nothing. I hope you’ll join me. 

Sheepishly,

Mel