A letter from your anxious friend

I'm really happy for you. You get to live life with only the common fears and worries that come with reality being reality. You don't have to suffer from the irrational "what ifs" that constantly pop up in my mind. I know you are still struggling through worry and hardship, but you seem to have a better handle on how to control your fear response than I do. And that makes me really happy for you.

However, I ask you to stop viewing my anxiety as a flaw. I'm not broke. I'm not cracked. I am not fragile. I so appreciate your attempts to protect and help me, but I'm stronger than you might think. You see, every day, from dusk till dawn, my brain is fight or flight. At any time, I can offer you five different scenarios of how things could go wrong. It takes a strong person to constantly inhabit that kind of space and thought.

There are days when I ask you to be gentle and patient with me. I don't claim to have perfect strength and resilience; I am only human. But I ask you to be patient and understanding as you would a toddler learning about the world around them and how to navigate it. With these precious humans, we are gentle and we are patient. However, we don't assume they are weak just because they are learning. We don't tell them how we're already dampening all their life experiences because we don't think they can handle the tough times without us. We talk to them about life. We encourage their steps, and we encourage their falls, and we never view their learning experiences as flaws.

Sometimes my fears and worries seem to overwhelm me. They seem so because it is the truth. The thoughts seem to encompass all the earth around me. But that doesn't mean I give in to them. Every day I lean a little more on Jesus. And then, like a human, I walk away, thinking I've taken control of this "worrying thing". And then, the peaceful, loving arms of Jesus greet me when I find myself in tears on the bathroom floor.

I so appreciate your desire to help and love me through difficult times. I desire to be just as much a rock and a support system for you too, my friend. But sometimes all I need is someone to listen to the fears and worries and sit with me in the “what ifs”. I don't need you trying to tell me everything will be fine when it might not be. I just need you to gently support me through the struggles of life, without looking at me with pity.

And yes, I take medication in the morning to help me balance the chemicals in my brain that seem to work in fear. But no, medicine is not a central part of who I am. It's just a helper to who I know I'm meant to be. Please do not assume that I am defined by a prescription. Taking a pill takes 5 seconds out of the 86,400 seconds of my day. While I have no problem sharing my story, especially to help others, I don't like using my dear friend Sertraline as a crutch or an excuse. Therefore, I ask you not to treat it as such as well.

I know this can be confusing and redundant at the same time. You're probably wondering why I say I may find myself overwhelmed with fear, but I'm fine. I tell you to be gentle, but not too gentle. But think of Jesus and his disciple Thomas. When Jesus came out of the tomb, Thomas was in disbelief. He claimed he needed to see Jesus' scars and even touch them to believe the Savior had truly risen.

“A week later, the disciples were gathered in a house when Jesus appeared to them. He first offered them peace, then told Thomas to put his hands on his side. doubt and believe". " (John 21:24-29).

Jesus never told Thomas that he was less of a disciple because he doubted. So please don't tell me that I am less of a faithful follower of Christ because of my doubts. As Jesus offered Thomas peace and comfort without looking at him with disdain, I ask you to do the same.

I am not my anxiety. I am my own person with my own thoughts, feelings and opinions. I don't revolve around my anxiety, although sometimes it seems to revolve around me. But please recognize the difference. I orbit around Jesus; my fears revolve around me. The good thing about this solar pattern is that when I encircle Christ, I force my fears, doubts, and worries to do the same. When I bow at Jesus' feet, my anxious thoughts have no choice but to bow with me. I rely on you for comfort, yes, but not for fullness or fixation. I already know the Ultimate Healer, and he's not intimidated or fearful of my thoughts.

I also ask that you never feel like you can't talk to me. Yes, I fight with battles that I said you might not understand. But I know you are fighting wars that I will never fight. I can offer...