Month: July 2019

A Reversal (Part 2)

July 31, 2019

I struggled to get started writing this post. I told myself as I started this blog that I was going to allow myself to write diary-like entries and not overthink. Nevertheless, I found myself thinking to myself it has to be a certain way and I need to be clear and concise. Perhaps, my wanting to be clear isn’t so bad, but I started to construct strategy so as to come across in a certain way rather than just being true to my vision for the blog – rip open my heart for others to take a peak.

Posting here because I think it’s funny hehe

NOTE: Music featured and tied to this post is both in the middle and at the end. You don’t wanna miss it.

So, where are we… oh, yea, the process (continual process) of me finding my own voice.

Well, most of this has happened since I began therapy two years ago. It’s not that I wasn’t joyful, happy before, or that I was a liar… it’s just that parts of my being whole as a human had been suppressed.

One day in early January 2017, my world as I knew it was shattered into a million pieces as a memory resurfaced. My mind and body became racked with PTSD. That can mean different things for different people. First, I was in shock, then I was angry, and then I mourned. I was completely broken. I withdrew from all ministry and extra-curricular (I was in my junior year at college) not from shame, but simply because my mind and body could not handle it all. At the same time, everything made sense. All of my crippling timidity, consistent self-sabotage, self-hatred, chronic self-blame, and distrust of people began to make complete sense. I almost felt relieved.

During that time, I remember simply not caring as much about my appearance as I used to… I couldn’t afford the stress. So, one day, where I was feeling particularly numb towards life, I came to school wearing the utmost baggy and unflattering clothing – an ill-fitting, old grey sweater draped over me like a security blanket. Disheveled, unwashed hair, unwashed face… this was actually the beginnings of regaining my voice. At least I was being honest.

First song I posted on SoundCloud, a cover and not my own, but I was able to use it to begin the journey of sharing my voice through music that night Sept 7, 2017 with this imperfect, one-take recording.

It has been a journey since then. Especially as I have grown into a *proper* adult, crawled out from my parent’s protective emotional covering, and have been tried and tested in new and unexpected ways. Most of these trials have revolved around interacting with humans, which makes complete sense considering I had, unbeknownst to me, been hiding away parts of myself; and, was a scared little girl just trying to please everyone so they wouldn’t get upset at me.

Honestly, I felt good after I *completed* my therapy Spring 2018. I felt confident in myself. I felt invincible. This quickly dissipated as I got myself involved in an unhealthy relationship that I had to cut off. However, I didn’t cut things off like I used to with people (friendships or romance), which was usually either silently disappearing or a wordless door slam. I decided that I had to speak my mind, my needs, and open up a conversation with the person rather than seeing their flaws or wrongs, then disappearing or cutting them out. Luckily this person was open to any sort of conversation. However, with a push from friends, I was able to cut it off because I knew it was going nowhere and was unhealthy with no prospects of repair. I only knew this because instead of running, I decided to push closer to the other human and open a dialogue. This was out of respect for them and myself. My old ways were simply self-preservation.

Started sharing my own music in 2018.

I cried for a week straight. A. Week. Even though it was a short-lived relationship. I cried for regret, for deceiving myself again, and because I thought I was better now and wouldn’t make those mistakes anymore. BUT, I also cried for relief because I had done better at saying everything I needed to say to that person and ending on good, clear terms.

My boyfriend said to me recently that I always seem to be struggling with something, and sometimes he is nervous that something is “bubbling” within me and gonna explode at any moment. He was just vocalizing a concern, but I saw it as an invitation to be more forward with him when thoughts began to spiral or doubts regarding our relationship fester.

He is not completely wrong to feel that way. This nothing-to-catastrophe way of dealing with things has been a problem for me. Most of the problem lies in silencing my voice when a less than savory thought enters my head, even if small or trivial, because I don’t want to disturb the other person; or, out of an unwillingness to explore deeper fears OR needs that lie within. As a result, the anxiety that I have been experiencing feeds on that negativity, tension, OR ambiguity and brings it to catastrophic levels. At that point, there lies in me a need to burst.

Image may contain: 1 person, text and closeup
Promotional graphic from my second “show”. Having fun and being me.

It seems rather than being completely vulnerable with others and allowing them into my processing of doubts, concerns, vices, etc., I try my hand at configuring them – an impossible task when I have only my view and fear to dictate answers – only to be sucked into that fear vortex. Lately my body has been physically manifesting this anxious thinking by way of feeling “on fire”, numb, tingly, chest pain, and the feelings of needing to crawl out of my skin. I have noticed that these symptoms reduce at least 50%, sometimes 100%, when I reach out to someone to vent or process with, or if I directly address my needs or concerns to the relevant person.

What am I most afraid of? What makes me choose an isolated, crazed state over a connected, less crazed, emotionally free state?

  • It is fear of rejection of my doubts, needs, and concerns, because they may relate to that person and be challenging to them or even hurtful.
  • It is a fear of disappointment. That what I ask of others will be either impossible, refused completely, misunderstood, or in the end they cannot fulfill them.

Turns out I fear putting any sort of expectation on people. Yet, still I somehow put expectation on them without sharing… for my loved ones, the frustration becomes a feeling of uncertain expectation. It is clear to me now, that the expectation I have, but am afraid to admit, is that I want to be completely understood. I want to feel complete security. I want evidence every second to calm my nerves… an impossible task.

Talking at a songwriter feature event. Being completely vulnerable about the stories behind my songs.

Yet, the cynical side of me – no doubt laced with lies from the farthest reaches of hell – battles fiercely with that. No one can understand you at all. You aren’t actually worth your needs being met. There exists no one who will listen and consider your needs or expectations. No human can love your needy self, neither is anyone ever going to rise to your standards. You’ll regret ever trusting anyone and will be devastated in the end. Why even say anything. It’s hopeless. It will come to nothing. Just keep hiding it. Eventually you’ll figure it out. Just keep turning it over. No, God won’t help, he will just make you feel bad. He will just remind you how weak and incompetent you are…

As I have learned to use my voice gradually these last few years, I have noticed that people worth keeping close and trusting will (1) Listen actively to your needs, (2) Respond to them by opening a dialogue and compromise where appropriate, (3) Seek to meet your needs while keeping their own healthy boundaries established, (4) Make their needs known as well, (5) Show physical evidence of their efforts over time, (6) Be willing to revisit the conversation when needed, and (7) Won’t make you feel bad for having needs, but also won’t hold back criticism when it’s due.

Notice how I did not once say that my needs would be anticipated by those

After voicing my needs to see this goober (we were long distance, but not “official” per se), we arranged for my seeing him in Chicago. No matter where the Lord leads us, I’m glad you are in my life Matthew. I love you.

who love me… sure, over time, as we grow closer to people we can anticipate some needs. However, no human can anticipate or always read what you need without being explicitly told. We chose what kind of relationships we want. Even so, no human can perfectly fulfill my needs.

I have been relying too much on my boyfriend lately. Feeling upset at him because he is not perfect and has hurt me, because he cannot read my needs as they seem to hang heavy in the air, because he doesn’t seem as constantly worried about the problems in each of us and as a couple. And yet, every time I come to him with my needs or concerns he listens willingly, takes them into consideration, we open a dialogue (sometimes a bit messy and sometimes takes a multiple tries) to talk about what can be done to honor us both; he attempts to see my perspective and doesn’t make me feel bad for it, yet he also offers feedback exploring if certain fears or insecurities might be fueling my concerns.

Starting to express myself more, even down to my look in Fall 2018 (chopped locks, confident expression) Yes, that’s a yellow stain I didn’t notice was on my sleeve haha

Only God can see my needs, anticipate them, and only He can minister to my soul on a deeper spiritual level. I shouldn’t put this burden completely on others… I feel that with trusting in God alone over humans, I can then voice my needs without fear to people, knowing that they won’t be able to complete me and being okay with that. In his abundant grace and creativity, God can use them to minister to me. Everything good comes from him and is miraculous.

As I turn to God, pour out my anxiety and messy, irrational emotions to him, he hears me clearer, understands my needs deeper, and knows how to supply my needs better than anyone will ever be able. The more I trust that he hears me, the more that I can find that voice to bring out into the world to the ears of his created ones that they, too, will know of my God who does and will supply all my needs.

NOTE #2: After I finished this, I realized there will be a part 3… stay tuned. I will talk more about how the “reversal” in my present life.

Lord,

I am sorry for putting my trust in other people around me to completely fill all my needs. Nothing can truly satisfy me but you. Please help me to better voice my needs to others so that I can develop deeper, truer relationships that honor you and showcase your love. Help me to not trust anxiety as I grapple with concerns in my mind, but help me to put those anxieties regarding myself and others to rest by continuing to communicate them to loved ones, knowing that you created me not to live alone but to lean on others.

Your daughter by Grace,

Bethany

MUSIC FEATURE:

This song hit my like a ton of bricks today. Non-explicit version below this one.

Turns out the main singer of this amazing group, Chad Gardner, took this song directly from his own journal. The main singer deals with severe anxiety and experiences panic attacks on the regular. What a testimony. He presses through, with his voice shaking, language harsh, and brings his needs before God. He explodes with emotion at the end, rejoicing in the promises of God despite his questions and anxious fears that are “f**king violent”.

Help me to trust in you alone, God. Trust your promises.

A Reversal (Part 1)

July 24, 2019
Expressive little me.

There was a time when I was that bossy kid on the playground. It was kindergarten and I was enamored by the pink Power Ranger, Kimberly. Her cuteness. Her toughness. I wanted to be her. So, to no surprise, I would rouse my play companions into a game of Power Rangers during recess. I very distinctly remember sliding down a chute to stand up on the level edge of it, look down at the little boy who I had chosen as my victim, poise myself to launch a lethal jumping kick, and screech out some sort of battle cry. He ran away crying. I got in trouble and shamefully stood in timeout, looking down, half-understanding what I did wrong. This is the oldest memory I have of public shame, and it has stuck with me as if super-glued to my back. I can laugh at it, but I believe those sort of experiences of feeling ashamed fed my natural disposition of not wanting to upset another person, for fear or shame, or rejection.

A shift occurred around first grade when I suddenly turned inward on myself, every failure, mistake, or sin was glued on to me, creating a garment of shame. I became cautious of people, not wanting them to see me, one that crouched hiding shamefully in the corner still ruminating on that time that I cheated on the minute math test. I began to self punish as a way to diminish the need to talk things through with others. I was accountable only to me. I could control how people saw me.

I fiercely defended this impression management into my young adult years. I was that quiet, compliant good girl who listened to everything the teacher said, rarely talked back or disagreed with her parents, got the highest marks, volunteered as a leader in youth group, always said “yes”. In my efforts to maintain an appearance of being “okay”, I kept up these activities to prove my worth to others, and most importantly, to convince myself I was okay, and to do what I thought I needed to do to be worthy of God’s love. I did not know every action stemmed from a core belief of hating myself and thinking myself dirty and tainted.

To the far left at 14 or 15 years old, desperate for validation through achievement!

I didn’t share alternative opinions. I did not voice my true needs. I amended my needs to be what I presumed that person could conveniently help with… I changed myself for others, thus I changed with the wind. All of this resulted in my becoming so timid, that when the waitress was coming around to take orders, I would rehearse what I was going to say in my head, I don’t want to come off as scared, so I need to say it this way, or order this thing to make so and so think such and such… sweat would build on my forehead as the waitress approached and I would push the words through my mouth carefully and nervously, “I want the fajitas” as if we whole confidence hung upon it.

At ~16 years old… not truly known by others.

That was a silly example, but this is just the extent to which I would hide myself away. As a result, I also became averse to conflict and confrontation. I couldn’t handle argument without bursting into tears, though most of the time I would stay silent and stew in resentment. I would not reach out to others for help, thinking the things I was struggling with in my teenage years were shameful and would reveal my weakness. Then, perhaps, they would see the real me that hid behind the facade. I couldn’t let that happen. I was in it alone. I needed to figure it out alone. Prove to my self I was strong.

When I entered college, and started mingling with all sorts of people outside of my normal circles, I began to notice how stunted I was at living among people in a community authentically. I encountered truly authentic people that, when they looked at me, were truly looking at me. None of my rehearsed items or spiels would convince them… I could do nothing but end the conversation and leave, feeling utterly disturbed. I began opening up more to certain people, but there would always be a point where the relationship would plateau… all the things I’ve shared with them that were about me, about my past, what God has done in my life had been said… I wasn’t truly open to inviting others into my current process. That was where I drew the line. I have to figure it out, polish it up, make sense of it before I share, or else I’ll sound crazy, I’ll sound weak, I’ll sound evil…

Freshman year of college. Coming out of my shell more… can you spot me? 🙂

I entered therapy upon the recalling of a traumatic memory from about the time I was in first grade. Everything began to make sense as I realized an inner sense of self-hatred, blame, and worthlessness led to the progression of being myself as God intended loud and proud, to being simply a shell with a scared little girl hiding inside. I realized that I had essentially been changing myself for people because I was scared of them, scared to let them in to see all the brokenness, doubt, and ugliness. So I kept up an image to protect myself and ensure everyone, including myself, that I was okay. Once I realized what I had done, I was devastated… who am I anyways? What do I need?

This is where the “reversal” began: the journey of finding my voice again after it has been hidden away since my youth. This blog is my chance at utter vulnerability… I cringe when I read my old blogs because I was always trying so hard to be someone else, prove to myself that I was okay, or that I was better. I hope to instead come from the position of a sinner saved by grace, in continual, desperate need of a Savior.

As I have continued this journey I have realized this “reversal” has been rocky and I have gone to utter extremes, adopted victim mentalities, and been downright rude…

(Subscribe via email or keep watching for A Reversal Part 2!)

-Bethany

This Week I Left Earth

July 22, 2019

I held on, almost in desperation, to my loving boyfriend. I felt as if gravity was reversing and sucking me up feet first into the sky. The fatigue that racked my body almost didn’t seem real… so I held on, fighting not to give in to the pull.

“I’m sorry, babe. I can’t be present with you right now. I feel so sick. I feel like I’m not even here, but in a dream.“

“It’s fine, you don’t need to try to be anything.”

My body tightened. I could not believe that. I could not accept it…I was fighting to simply be.

I was so frustrated. The prior evening was characterized by loving communication and trust building. 24 hours later, my physical fatigue was pulling me away from this beautiful, simple moment of walking through the cool, summer evening with my love.

Which came first? Anxious thoughts that I tried shoving out of the door of my mind only to physically manifest as exhaustion for the impossible endeavor? Or was my indigestion giving irrational anxiety to interpret my experience? Either way, I was detached completely from sensation external and internal. Although I remember being held for nearly ten minutes, my memory is void of emotion or any feeling or affection. Though, I know in that moment I was loved, and tried my best to receive it, I cannot remember it…

I wasn’t lying either. I love him. But I remember nothing of feeling this since my mind has been drifting frequently to and from earth this week. My memories are fading into nothing but black and white reel in my mind, parts of the film distorted, expressions changed from joyous to withered with apathy or weariness. How can I continue to grow in love when I keep forgetting?

It is as if the claws of PTSD are trying to grab a memory and cast it into the void of space, never to be enjoyed again, assure my bonds with others, retell of God’s goodness, getting smaller as it floats away by inertia…but why is my mind trying to bury good memories? Why is my mind alerting every small disturbance as reason to run away, cut ties with those I love most, and go…nowhere?

I have been playing phone tag with my therapist these last few days.

“I need to go see my therapist.”

I have stated this an embarrassing number of times since my boyfriend came back to live in our hometown, but still haven’t acted. I could feel the push and tug of anxiety. Coasting blissfully and in control for weeks only to have one negative experience pull me away from earth again. Or I would crash to earth, burrowed in a hole of depression.

My excuses: “I don’t have time”, “My boyfriend needs my support more than I need help at this point”, “I’ll go later when things have settled”.

These excuses have led to my becoming incapable of being alone for extended periods of time without spiraling, binging (of food and/or media), skipping exercise, or isolating myself.

Obviously, I need help.

________

Experience mine and others journeys to and from earth in this personal blogging through my navigating this relatively newly emerging thing in my life called anxiety. I say mine and others because I don’t want to make this simply about what plagues me, but I also want to bring in other voices who live with chronic issues and their stories of victory. Positivity is hard when everything is muddled within and ticking like a time bomb; when food starts to lose it’s flavor; you cannot feel the wind; or, your muscles feel weak although you’ve done nothing but lay down all day. So I hope to not bring some sort of toxic positive message, as some have within the Christian communities, but to dig into my own experience and others to bring a biblical perspective on living life to it’s utmost fullness despite “thorns in the flesh”.

This blog will also operate as a mode of accountability for me to continue going to see my therapist and get to a better place. There are too many great things ahead for me to submit fully to this.

The other night, my boyfriend and I were having a discussion about peace. I asked him what it meant, and to my surprise he said “violence”. A violent act – strong and powerful force – needs to happen to attain peace, and by this I mean a godly peace – not feigned ignorance, but completeness, shalom. And confidence. I am set out to explore what this violent act(s) needs to occur in my story.

I also am going to post my art, music, and resources acquired. I also want to collect the art and music or you out there who have funneled all your experience with mental health into art. If you have art or music that you want to share, please send it to me by emailing contactanxiousanne@gmail.com .