Getting Help

I was so scared.

Just the mention of counseling or getting help made the panic rise within me.

It would send my thoughts reeling and my heart racing.

Thoughts like, what if they don’t know what is wrong with me?

What if they look at me in shock, blank stare, and shake their head and say,

“I’m sorry I’ve never heard of this before.”

What then…

 

At this time I really had no idea what was going on with me.

I didn’t know it had a name.

I thought I had done something to cause this,

that it was my fault,

and that something was just really wrong with me.

 

I kept putting off seeking help.

Hoping and praying that whatever this was would just go away.

But what felt like a raging storm inside didn’t go away.

The storm often kept me from falling asleep, or woke me in the night.

I wanted to sleep so badly because it was my only moments of peace.

I woke up every day to the tumultuous waves of thoughts.

It was like waking up every morning to a boxing match that lasted all day.

The rapid fire thoughts would throw the first punch before I even opened my eyes,

and the hits would keep coming all day long.

It was exhausting.

And it was becoming more and more debilitating.

 

Hiding is a game you play as children,

But you usually want someone to come find you.

I was hiding and hoping no one would find out what was really going on inside me.

In fear that if they really knew these “crazy” thoughts I was having,

they wouldn’t love me or want to be my friend anymore.

 

I remember the day I finally said yes.

Yes I will go get help.

I didn’t want to but I knew I couldn’t keep living like this.

 

We had been at a social gathering.

Something in the past I would have enjoyed being at.

Not that day.

My thoughts were demanding attention at an all time high.

I could not even concentrate when other people were trying to talk to me.

It was like trying to keep a raging bull from charging after the red flag.

I felt physically ill.

I began sweating and feeling claustrophobic.

I felt the panic begin, and I thought to myself, I’ve got to get out of here fast.

I found my husband and told him I had to leave.

He followed me out to my car.

After I put my one year old daughter in her carseat, I sat in my front seat and cried.

He didn’t really need to say anything.

“I’ll go” I said.  “I don’t want to, but I can’t live like this anymore.”

My husband soon made an appointment for me to see a counselor.

 

I remember the day of my first appointment.

I will always remember that day as long as I live.

I was a wreck on the way there.

All worst case scenarios were playing in my mind and I couldn’t stop it.

I felt so sick, wishing this day was over already.

I didn’t know what they were going to ask me, or what I would have to talk about.

[Oh the unknown.]

BUT GOD…

 

This counselor was a Godly man who was a friend of my husbands.

I remember immediately feeling at ease in his presence.

He asked some questions to get to know me better.

[Oh to be known.]

I began to relax more and more.

I was able to share how I had been feeling.

He shared with me that he himself had experienced the same type of thing.

[So I’m not alone?]

[…more relief]

And he told me it had a name.

Anxiety Disorder.

And that many people struggled with it.

He recognized that I had very little, if any, quality of life at that time.

He then proceeded to share with me something I will never forget.

He said “God gives us his grace through many channels,

and one of those ways is through medicine.”

He explained that the medicine along with the counseling could help restore my quality of life.

This was all brand new to me, and honestly I felt unsure about taking medication.

But I trusted what he was saying was true and I knew I needed my quality of life back.

 

I left there that day feeling hopeful.

Something I had not felt in awhile.

I also felt like I was on the road to freedom for the first time in my life.

I experienced the difference one choice can make to change the course of my life.

 

Thank you for being here with me,

Amy