My mind is pacing and if I’m still I can feel the beat of a thousand ants crawling under my skin. In these times the pressure is so great I feel like a balloon.
Perhaps one day you’ll finally pop. NO! I won’t.
I’ve learned from experience food doesn’t fix this, neither does Xanax, nor pacing or the constant dialogue turning within my mind and heart. It will only get worse. I head upstairs to my bedroom. It isn’t long before my speakers are blazing and I am standing in the center of the room, crying my eyes out, completely overwhelmed. No longer by the ceaseless banter in my head but rather by the fact that He’s there. I can feel His spirit. His arms envelope me as I sing “you’re the God of miracles,” over and over and over and over, so absorbed. Until I can think of nothing else. Until my tired mind and body believes just as much as my heart and soul does. I should have done this an hour ago but I tried to do it myself again. Again.
Almost no one knows about these times in my life. How awful they feel, how absolutely crippling they have the potential to become. Sometimes it feels like a fox whose tail is on fire running through a field of dry wheat. A conflagration fast and steadily growing at a rate I can’t possibly control. And that’s the key. I can’t control it, but if I will just let myself get alone with God, He soothes those raw edges. Those unbearable moments when speaking to people is like sandpaper and getting myself together just isn’t happening. When regret and temptation and fear coalesce into a tidal wave of anxiety, depression, worry, what ifs, and whys. I find divine comfort in the truth. He is greater than even this. And I find that praise drives the fear away and I can face this moment, this second, the tomorrows. Fear never sleeps but neither does God.You don’t have to wait till your in a sanctuary to invite Him into your chaos. He’s ready and willing. Never once have I ever walked alone.
But you, LORD, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high.- Psalm 3:3