I am in front of a mirror, chanting calm over myself;
"Esther, you are in no physical danger. Your physical symptoms are a result of what's happening in your head, and everything is going to be okay. You are perfectly alright."
I smile at my reflection and walk out of the room...
...and then exactly ten minutes later I am on the floor of my bedroom in the fetal position trying to calm the panic out of me.
Over the past few weeks of being in Indiana, people have remarked how thin I look. "Pinched and sick.", my Grandmother says I look, and Becca grabs my waist and gapes, "Have you lost weight? Like, a lot of weight?!"
Yes. Twenty pounds in a week and a half, right off this body. Not from a terminal illness or a sudden famine, because my ailment is different. My ailment is fear, the most subtle disease that can take you over until you feel lost in it. Until you are lost in it. These veins are blackened with fear and no amount of bleeding out could cause it to dissipate.
My priorities have gone from the pursuit of loveliness to simply trying to survive.
I have grown so tired, I tell Lizzy with tears welling up; of hearing about the struggles of others- lust, impatience, pride, anger issues- and having this battle rip through me daily, in private.
When I fall apart and panic attack after panic attack rips through me like a train derailed into a wood. I can't stop them and I panic about panic and think at night, "Good God, no one will ever love me, will they?"
Drowning. A panic attack feels like drowning. There's no other way to describe it. Drowning without water as the fear takes in and smothers the life out of you.
Panic Disorder- my battle. Why fear? Why not impatience or pride or something else? Why something that becomes so debilitating and stops me from doing things thought of as normal?
The checkout at Walmart, that's a big deal. Meeting people is even worse. And waiting rooms. Who thought those up, anyways? A room just for waiting in, while twisting your stomach into awful knots? Really?
Visiting crowded megachurches. Physical contact. All are triggers. Crowds and people, and I can never start a conversation without feeling the first-fruits of panic surge through me. The inability to escape it drives me mad and desperate.
When you are finally done panicking and are no longer seized, there is such a sense of relief. It's over, finally. Or is it? Because panic disorder means that this happens often, that this is your normal. Your normal. And they don't happen when you're in danger, they hit you all the time, anywhere. You think about it constantly and would rather stay in bed every single morning than wake up and face yourself, because fear controls you. So after a panic attack, any sense of, "Praise Jesus, it's finally passed and I can breathe..." is immediately replaced by, "I know this is going to happen again."
You become desperate to escape from it. Wild and irrational. Your head becomes so weary that you count certainties for reassurance. I have a list of my own, three that I am so sure of:
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. That is all that I am certain of and I hold onto the triune God like my life depends upon it because it does. If I let go of that truth there's no telling what could happen.
I can see myself five years from now unable to leave my house. However, I can also see myself five years from now- free of this. Which do I choose, let it win or fight the Hell (literally) out of myself? It is the most crucial moment in my story; everyone waits with held breath to see if I will stay down or get up and fight. So what do I choose?
I choose to be done with a passive, victim-like mentality. I have had it up to my neck with this. The Deceiver has had his say and now I am done listening.
Fear is a liar and the Spirit of Truth dwells in me, giving me the ability to fight fear with love perfected.
"He who vindicates me is near.
Who will contend with me?
Let us stand up together.
Who is my adversary?
Let him come near to me."
{Isaiah 50:8}
I am armed to the teeth- bring it.
"Esther, you are in no physical danger. Your physical symptoms are a result of what's happening in your head, and everything is going to be okay. You are perfectly alright."
I smile at my reflection and walk out of the room...
...and then exactly ten minutes later I am on the floor of my bedroom in the fetal position trying to calm the panic out of me.
Over the past few weeks of being in Indiana, people have remarked how thin I look. "Pinched and sick.", my Grandmother says I look, and Becca grabs my waist and gapes, "Have you lost weight? Like, a lot of weight?!"
Yes. Twenty pounds in a week and a half, right off this body. Not from a terminal illness or a sudden famine, because my ailment is different. My ailment is fear, the most subtle disease that can take you over until you feel lost in it. Until you are lost in it. These veins are blackened with fear and no amount of bleeding out could cause it to dissipate.
My priorities have gone from the pursuit of loveliness to simply trying to survive.
I have grown so tired, I tell Lizzy with tears welling up; of hearing about the struggles of others- lust, impatience, pride, anger issues- and having this battle rip through me daily, in private.
When I fall apart and panic attack after panic attack rips through me like a train derailed into a wood. I can't stop them and I panic about panic and think at night, "Good God, no one will ever love me, will they?"
Drowning. A panic attack feels like drowning. There's no other way to describe it. Drowning without water as the fear takes in and smothers the life out of you.
Panic Disorder- my battle. Why fear? Why not impatience or pride or something else? Why something that becomes so debilitating and stops me from doing things thought of as normal?
The checkout at Walmart, that's a big deal. Meeting people is even worse. And waiting rooms. Who thought those up, anyways? A room just for waiting in, while twisting your stomach into awful knots? Really?
Visiting crowded megachurches. Physical contact. All are triggers. Crowds and people, and I can never start a conversation without feeling the first-fruits of panic surge through me. The inability to escape it drives me mad and desperate.
When you are finally done panicking and are no longer seized, there is such a sense of relief. It's over, finally. Or is it? Because panic disorder means that this happens often, that this is your normal. Your normal. And they don't happen when you're in danger, they hit you all the time, anywhere. You think about it constantly and would rather stay in bed every single morning than wake up and face yourself, because fear controls you. So after a panic attack, any sense of, "Praise Jesus, it's finally passed and I can breathe..." is immediately replaced by, "I know this is going to happen again."
You become desperate to escape from it. Wild and irrational. Your head becomes so weary that you count certainties for reassurance. I have a list of my own, three that I am so sure of:
A steadfast, loving, merciful God to call Father.
Salvation by grace through faith in Christ.
The gift of the Holy Spirit of Jehovah.
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. That is all that I am certain of and I hold onto the triune God like my life depends upon it because it does. If I let go of that truth there's no telling what could happen.
I can see myself five years from now unable to leave my house. However, I can also see myself five years from now- free of this. Which do I choose, let it win or fight the Hell (literally) out of myself? It is the most crucial moment in my story; everyone waits with held breath to see if I will stay down or get up and fight. So what do I choose?
I choose to be done with a passive, victim-like mentality. I have had it up to my neck with this. The Deceiver has had his say and now I am done listening.
Fear is a liar and the Spirit of Truth dwells in me, giving me the ability to fight fear with love perfected.
"He who vindicates me is near.
Who will contend with me?
Let us stand up together.
Who is my adversary?
Let him come near to me."
{Isaiah 50:8}
I am armed to the teeth- bring it.
