Social media definitely has its pros and cons, and I believe
very much in being thoughtful about what we broadcast to the world. But so our
culture can sometimes tell us ‘you shouldn’t talk about this’ and implicitly
sends the message that those hard experiences should be kept to ourselves, promoting
shame.
Social media can also be a great way to open the door to
further face-to-face conversations. It gives permission to talk about what has
happened to us, which is how we can begin to process and move forward. So,
that’s my hope for this post. I am praying that the right people will read this
and either feel encouraged, or reach out to me (or someone in their circle) and
ask for support.
I love coffee dates, so message me if you have some things
you want to process through and I will gladly oblige.
Alright, done with the prefacing, let’s go.
My second year at Fox (first year fully in the social work
program) was… challenging. I’ll start
from the beginning.
I have always been an anxious perfectionist. I stress most
about school/work performance and “what ifs”, and the expectations I set for
myself are unattainable. By that year at Fox it had transformed into something
that was more crippling than it was motivating.
I had to be about two weeks ahead in homework assignments. If
not, I would be so anxious that I wouldn’t go out and do things with friends
because “I had too much work to do.” I would become angry if anyone got in the
way of my ‘getting things done’, and had a near-constant pit in my stomach from
the stress.
As the year went on I quickly had anxiety manifest in other
ways, the biggest of which being body image issues. I could stand in front of a
mirror and easily list off a dozen things I wanted to change about myself, and
started trying to limit how much I ate because I convinced myself I needed to.
For the most part all of this was a huge secret—my roommate
and best friend, Patty, and Aaron (who I had been dating for about a year at
that point) were the ones I let see me in my mess. I became really good at
masking it around people, but the anxiety, insecurity, doubt, and anger were
all there just under the surface. I also felt guilty because I knew how hard it
was on the people in my circle.
During that time I stumbled upon Psalm 55. I had no words of
my own, so it became my prayer for months.
If you are going through a season where it feels like God is
far from you, where you are surrounded by people but still feel so alone, go to
the Psalms. God is big enough for your questions, for your anger, and finding a
passage that expresses how you are feeling will be a life preserver as you
fight your way through the storm.
About half way through the school year I pulled my pastor,
Zach, aside after bible study. While Aaron and Patty sat with me, I explained
everything that had been happening. After thinking for a moment Zach said to
me, “Here’s what I’m seeing. You’re not trusting God. All of these things that
are happening seem to be rooted in a distrust of God.”
At first, and for several days after I resisted this idea. “I
trust God! I’m a good Christian, I believe what the Bible says, I go to church,
what else am I supposed to do?!”
After stewing on those words more I started to notice that I
believed the Bible in my head, but not in my heart and my actions. I felt this
need to control everything around me, and maybe it was true that it was because
I didn’t trust that God would come through. I thought that the only way things
were going to be okay was if I held onto the reigns, and I kept gripping the
reigns tighter and tighter until it was sucking the joy and life out of me.
During this time I needed to be reminded constantly of God’s
faithfulness, because without it being right in front of my face I would quickly
fall back into those unhealthy habits.
One of the ways I did this was starting a prayer journal.
And not like the standard, generic prayers. I’m talking the thoughts and
feelings you don’t want anyone else to see. It allowed me to look back and see
God’s provision and presence in each of those moments, and how he never left.
One of the other things I did was write lyrics to a song by
Chris August on a piece of paper and keep it in my jacket pocket, so that each
time I put my hand in it I would think about what God promises to His children.
The page has tattered edges and is a little browner that it originally was from
the long walks where I anxiously tore and squeezed it. I still keep it in my
Bible as a reminder of how He transformed my heart and mind over that time.
That long, hard, and identity-shaping year is my personal
proof that God is a God of redemption. That He sees us in our darkest and most
shameful moments and loves us just as deeply as He does when we have our act
together. He wants us, not what we
accomplish, not the image we convey to the people around us, just us in our brokenness. He rescues us, He
sustains us, and we can rest in the truth that those promises have always been
true, and always will be true, even when we don’t feel like they’re true.
If you are in a season of darkness, I want to encourage you
in several ways: you are not alone—reach out to someone and let them join with
you in your struggle. Pour into scripture and believe Him at his Word. Don’t
try to put on a mask in your relationship with Jesus—He sees you, knows you,
and sacrificed for you at your weakest because He absolutely loves you.
There is so much more that could be said, but this isn't a novel so this feels like a good starting point. If you know you’re struggling but don’t really know where to start, let’s go to coffee dear friend.
There is so much more that could be said, but this isn't a novel so this feels like a good starting point. If you know you’re struggling but don’t really know where to start, let’s go to coffee dear friend.
