It has taken a lot to finally come clean. To admit that my seemingly perfect life just wasn't so. I had convinced myself that asking for help was a sign of weakness, a sign that I could not handle everything I felt I should have been able to. Everyday I put on my happy shoes and walked out the door. I smiled, I laughed, I looked just fine. I seemed perfectly happy.
To all the other moms out their. Do me a favor. Stop focusing on perfection, stop trying to impress everyone else, stop worrying about what everyone else will think. That is what made me hit rock bottom. I had a fear of admitting to failure. I failed at nursing school. Yep I sure did, and I bet I had you convinced that It just wasn't my thing. I would tell myself over and over It wasn't my fault. But you know what it was. I was so concerned about impressing everyone around me, that I never took the time to really stop and think what I was really passionate about. I looked for something reputable, something that would make me feel and look important. Now don't get me wrong. The medical field did interest me. I absolutely love reading about medicine and the human body. Our complexity is an amazing and fascinating subject. I just went into it for all the wrong reasons. I wasn't able to handle the suffering and death aspect of nursing. I failed. Not only did I feel like I let myself down, but I felt like I had failed my husband, my son, mother, grandparents, all of my family and friends. I hit rock bottom. I remember sitting in my bath tub crying. Trying to figure something out. Trying to make what had happened okay. I had no answers, I had no solution. But someone did. That someone was God. I recall a feeling of calm wash over me. I stopped hyperventilating, I stopped crying. I could hear the word "go" over and over in my head. That next day I found my Church. We started attending Crossroads Vineyard Church Easter Sunday of 2013. Since then nothing has been the same.
When we first started attending Jared and I were the quiet couple. We were both shy and a little awkward in new social situations. I had been dealing with severe anxiety, which made it hard for me to be in public. While I was already a follower of Jesus and had a basic understanding of Christianity, Jared had not yet given his life to Christ. I held back a lot in the begging. I was afraid. I did not want to draw attention to myself. Most importantly I did not want to make Jared uncomfortable. I had never shown him my religious side. For a long time God had been put on the back burner, but things were different now. I was a wife and mother. I wanted to know God again. I wanted to raise my boys to know Him. Slowly I came out of my shell. We began volunteering at church. We became part of the welcome team. Things became much easier for us. We fell in love with the atmosphere and the people. Crossroads became home. Several months later Jared committed himself to God and I was Baptized. Things were looking up for me. Soon I found out we were expecting again. To be on the safe side I weaned myself off my anti-depressant. I thought I was stable enough emotionally to go with out it. Now I do not know if it was just my hormones or if I continued to fight depression during my pregnancy. All I know is I was a handful. Jared told me after our son Elijah was born, That I had just been mean and hurtful during my pregnancy. Slowly it all began to come back. The debilitating anxiety and depression. I couldn't drive, I couldn't be in crowds, I was terrified to be alone. I lived in a constant state of fear. My biggest fear being death. I was so afraid I would die at home alone with the boys. If that happened, would they be ok until Jared came home? It was all I thought about all day everyday. It completely consumed my life. Finally I was ready to get help. The following Sunday I did something I had never done before. When our pastor called for people to receive prayer. I got up and went to the first person on the prayer team I saw. Now if you have known me for any length of time, you know that I hate drawing attention to myself in public, and I hate asking for help even more. But that Sunday for the first time in my life I didn't care. God told me to get up and take action, and that's exactly what I did. Not only did our pastors mother pray for me, but I also reached out to other members of the church. I was amazed by how understanding so many of them were. I felt so relieved to find out I wasn't alone. It has taken a lot for me to admit all of this, but I feel compelled to get this out there. I owe it to God to open up about my struggles and the peace I have now found. I just hope that someone will read my blog and know they are not alone. That someone has all the answers, and that person is God.
