Friday, July 20, 2012

Silent Stalker

I hate my anxiety.  I hate that it takes over my mind and my heart sometimes before I have any forewarning.  And it's just there.  Solid darkness, all consuming.  Wondering if the next step I take will be a step into my death.  It comes in the form of a fog that echoes over my being while I slowly but surely become disconnected from life around me and fall into that dreamlike state that happens before the panic.  Voices become distant, conversations become separate from me, every sound and sensation is in the background, somewhere else. My stomach is sour, I am nauseated.  Logic, logic, please find me.  

 I I know I'm not crazy.  I know I somehow called these feelings up and I need to send them away - but they are stubborn.  I've learned to control it enough that the panic has become silent and stays within the confines of me.  Silent is scarier, in my own head and heart I struggle to stay in reality, in the moment that is life.  It comes from nowhere, sneaking up as stealthily as my shadow.  Logic, find me and grip me, please. 

Nobody knows I am here in this silent place, I'm not even sure I am there and I sure don't know how to get back quick enough.  So I move, I excuse myself to the bathroom or outside.  I splash water on me, I breath the changed air; in desperation I do anything to grasp reality and hold onto the logic.  It's only been a few moments, even seconds...but inside of me I have just felt eternal hell on earth.  I hate it, that monster called anxiety.

I think I made a connection to the cause of my silent stalker last night.  I was taught in no uncertain terms early in life (two posts ago will clarify), that I held the power to life and death.  If I was good, God would reward me. He was watching me always and if I was bad, he would punish me, with death or illness....mine or someone that I loved.  It was all up to me and depended on if I was a good girl or not.  I think I've carried this into my grown up life so when I am feeling guilty or not sure if I am doing the right thing, I punish myself. I long to be a good girl.

 I hear my own tapes.  God will punish you Sarah.  He's watching you.  You are such a good girl, God thinks you are so special.  And these tapes that I refused to acknowledge are loud, clear and clearly confusing to me.  I know.  I hear.  Now for the hard work in learning to rewrite the scripts on my tapes.  Ouch. 

Good news, I fully believe my tapes are nothing but LIES.  Heartbreaking that these lies came from someone I loved more than life, and who loved me more than life.  But her sweet soul was sick and so the lines between love and possesion became intertwined and the result is me.  God has given me truth.  He has given me new life. He has made me new. I have lived one way for 30 something years and now am being given the gift of a chance to learn different and be free.  Thankful.

As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.  My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.  When can I go and meet with God?  Psalm 42:1-2

(I am learning to meet and walk with the living God now, not the God who lives to punish but the God who is here to truly give life.)

Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.  Psalm 34:5 (And so I hold my head high, believing and searching for the TRUTH and knowing I am a child of God, a survivor rather than a martyr and his heart of joy.)

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