I’ve been sitting with God. I know He’s compelling me to write, but it’s been very hard to put words down without questioning myself to the point of paralysis.
I’ve struggled through anxiety and depression for years. In the last several weeks, I experienced anxiety at a level I haven’t often. I was physically ill, untethered, just lost. Scared. Feeling alone and afflicted.
In the middle of a panic attack, at the height of my anxiety struggle I sat in my bed with my husband sleeping beside me, and I steadied my breathing and I cried out to Him. “God, please help me. God please help me.” I imagined myself breathing in the Holy Spirit and exhaling my struggles, my anxiety, my fear. I cycled through a number of requests and questions….Please make this stop. Why is this happening? What do I do?
In that moment, and in sitting with Him since then, I know the answer is, “Share. Write.”
I’ve been writing for years. I’ve been sharing my life online for ages. Over a decade. So why is it so hard to write this? Why is it harder to write about faith than, say, reading? Or my family? Weight loss? Depression? Sexual assault? Politics?
I know I’ve been afraid of “doing it wrong.” Of doing Christianity wrong. Saying or writing the wrong things. Of readers stopping listening. In truth, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to overcome what I saw as shortcomings when it comes to the context of faith. This brashness. This willingness to hang my opinions out there to share and commune with and inspire others. This “unladylike” tendency to argue, to speak up and out.
I’m not afraid of these things in other contexts, mind you. As the title of this blog suggests, I’m a rowdy one. A poker of the bear. A stirrer of pots at times. Always a teacher…asking tough questions, appreciating the gray area…relishing ambiguity. Learning. I love to learn.
A lot of factors have shut me up when it comes to God and my faith. I’m trying not to shut myself up any longer.