I’m not much of a thinker. I prefer to let others do my thinking for me while I use my energy for other things (like feeling, and emotionally processing). Very often, I find myself feeling a certain way without knowing why I feel the way I do, or what it is that’s causing me to feel that way. So, naturally, when I manage to find someone who just seems to understand what I’m going through without me having to explain myself, it’s kind of a big deal (when they can explain to me what I’m going through, that’s a bonus). Lately, I’ve been caught in the downward spiral of being an adult living at my parents’ house for financial convenience while trying to make my way in the world—it’s taken me a few years to come to the conclusion that, at least in my situation, it just doesn’t work, and it won’t ever work.
The amount of transformation that God has performed in my life this year has been absolutely incredible, particularly while on mission to Bangladesh
When I had been back for about a month, I began to wean myself off of the prescription antidepressant drugs I had been taking for almost two years to treat my panic disorder and agoraphobia. I was to gradually reduce the dosage over the course of two weeks from the maximum safe dosage (I find it kind of concerning that this was the minimum effective dosage for me, as a relatively small female person) to zero. I did this, and felt totally fine—zero side effects—until after about a week of no medication. I started to get severe migraine headaches, tingling spells, panic attacks, and I experienced prolonged episodes of heightened emotions and crying. From everything I had read, these were all normal withdrawal symptoms that would go away in a few weeks. I knew that God must’ve been on my side for this—the entire time I’d known Him I had depended on these drugs, but now I knew that freedom and peace could be found in God, and didn’t have to be sought in a chemical pill. It really hurts when other people don’t understand that. I’m a scientist—I get that modern medicine is an absolute miracle, and many things actually require pharmaceutical intervention, but isn’t there something else to be said about the Great Physician and Healer? I have experienced supernatural peace in the midst of panic that has come from God; He has brought me out of incredibly dangerous, desperate situations—taking away my anxiety is peanuts to Him. God is all powerful and does this kind of thing all the time, on a daily basis—I am no exception. Still, my faith is tested every time the symptoms persist longer than I feel they should, and whenever I have a panic attack—where is God?
I came across a quote yesterday that I feel is one of the most truthful statements that can be made about my life and my walk with God; I suspect that others will also find it quite applicable. Here it is:
“Sometimes god lets you hit rock bottom so that you will discover that he is the rock at the bottom” – Tony Evans
For me, this is truer than true. I had plenty of opportunities to accept God into my life for years before I actually did. It took more than a few nights of staying up all night worrying about every aspect of the day to come before I found God at rock bottom. I would worry about what I would eat and at what time so that my blood sugar levels would stay constant and I wouldn’t pass out—but more importantly so that I didn’t get fat. I would worry about school, marks, getting into grad school, and finding a job in the future. I would worry about my finances and how long my money would last since I was unable to hold a job in my condition. I would worry about whether I would be able to a) get out of the house in the morning b) get on the bus and survive the 15 minute bus ride to campus c) sit through class while sort of paying attention without fidgeting and drawing too much attention to myself, and d) get back on the bus and make it home without incident (all of these things occurring on the same day was extremely rare). I would use and abuse drugs and alcohol to numb the pain of uncertainty, until I became a shadow staring into space, just waiting for time to pass. One of my favourite things to do was to cry myself to sleep, since crying was a way to get out all of the emotions that I couldn’t express in words, and because sleep was the only freedom that I had from this life where I was suffocating, and couldn’t be trusted with my life in my own hands.
Only after I had tried everything else that I had access to as a human being in the western world did I attempt to seek God in this dark place. I had never felt His presence ever in my life, despite being dragged to church every week by my parents for 18 years, but now that I was ready to seek Him and see what He had to offer me, I found Him. He had been waiting for me for such a long time and He let me know through a number of different ways that I was in the right place in His arms. No, my symptoms did not instantly go away, but little by little, God started to build me up from the rock at the bottom (not the sand at the bottom. Remember that story from Sunday school? Sand house guy’s house sunk and fell down, but rock house guy had a solid house…). Coming off the meds was a huge leap of faith, and as much of a slap in the face as it was, it made me realize that I had more faith in that little white pill than I did God, the rock underneath me.
Yes, sometimes God will let us fall; even face-first into a rock, but that rock will always catch us and provide a firm foundation for building upon when the time is right. I’ll take that over a soft landing in the sand where I can sink away and be forgotten, any day.
