Battling the Storm: The Raw Truth About Anxiety, Depression, and Faith
This week has knocked me flat on my back. Anxiety and depression have come roaring back into my life, leaving me feeling completely overwhelmed and sidetracked. Every day is a battle, and my mind races with relentless worries and dark thoughts that feel impossible to escape. It’s like I’m caught in a relentless storm, and no matter how hard I try to navigate through it, I’m tossed around by waves of despair.
One of the hardest parts of this struggle is the aching disconnect I feel from Our Jesus. I know I should be leaning on Him, but in those moments of darkness, I find it incredibly hard to reach out. I scream into the void, wondering if my prayers even matter or if He’s listening at all. It’s like I’m screaming for help while being swallowed by the chaos around me. The comfort that faith promises feels just out of reach, and I’m left grappling with my pain alone.
And then there’s my husband. He’s my rock, my partner in this wild ride of life, but I can’t shake the feeling that my struggles are just piling more weight onto his shoulders. He doesn’t need me to add more to his plate. He’s already dealing with his own challenges, and here I am, drowning in my turmoil. It breaks my heart to think that my battles could create a rift between us. The truth? He’s not the easiest person to communicate with when I’m feeling this way. I try to open up, but sometimes it feels like I’m speaking a different language. I feel guilty for burdening him, yet I’m desperate for understanding and support. It’s a messy cycle of needing support but fearing I’m just adding to his stress.
In these moments, I often find myself lying in bed, staring out the window at the passing cars. It’s a strange comfort, watching the world move by while I feel stuck in my own head. There’s something oddly satisfying about it, like a brief escape from the chaos within. I can lose myself in the rhythm of life outside, wondering where those cars are headed, what stories they carry. It’s hard to explain, but in those moments, I feel a sense of connection to something bigger than my own struggles. It’s as if the world is still turning, even when I feel like I’m standing still.
But then the guilt creeps back in. Shouldn’t I be doing something? Shouldn’t I be fighting harder against this storm? The guilt only adds another layer to my mental struggle, making it feel even heavier. I know I should be pushing through, but sometimes lying there, just watching, feels like all I can do.
It’s a vicious cycle. One moment, I might catch a glimpse of hope, and the next, I’m buried under a mountain of self-doubt and negativity. I know I should be clinging to the promises in scripture, reminding myself that God’s love is unwavering. I’m reminded of Matthew 11:28-30, where Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” It’s a beautiful promise, yet in those dark moments, it’s hard to believe that truth. I question my worthiness, wondering if I’m too broken for God to mend me.
The truth is, I’ve started to realize the importance of not just keeping my struggles bottled up. I need to share what I’m going through, even when it feels like a heavy burden. My friends and family remind me that I’m not alone in this fight and that it’s okay to be raw and real about my struggles. They remind me of God’s promises, reigniting a flicker of hope that’s often overshadowed by my fears.
I’ve begun to find solace in the small things. Whether it’s diving into the Word, journaling my chaotic thoughts, or simply sitting in silence and breathing deeply, I’m learning to carve out moments for Jesus. These practices may seem small, but they’re my lifeline, pulling me back from the edge when the storm feels too fierce.
This journey through anxiety and depression is messy, raw, and downright exhausting. It’s not a neat or tidy path, but it’s mine, and I’m learning to embrace it. Amidst the chaos, I’m finding moments of connection with Our Jesus, even when it feels like He’s far away.
So, if you’re in the thick of your own storm, know that it’s okay to be real about your struggles. Let’s lean on each other, remind ourselves that we don’t have to face this alone, and trust in God’s plan, even when we can’t see it. Together, we can weather the storm, holding on to faith as our anchor, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll find a little peace along the way.
Have faith over fear with me!!
Madge
