Not Really Alone

Day 14 (February 17, 2019)

Hi God,

            There was absolutely nothing pretty about my thoughts this morning. At about 7:30am, I got up to use the restroom and when I got back in bed, I could not fall back asleep. My brain was consumed with the thought that I was going to be alone, again, today. So, I furiously began contemplating all the ways I could try to not be alone. First, I thought, I could try to go to church by myself, but instantly my OCD started being a bully. It reminded me of the biggest things I was scared of that revolved around attending church: the 15-minute walk past multiple construction zones where my OCD tries to convince me I will mess with something that could hurt other pedestrians or construction workers; the room the service is held in that is always filled with adults and children, and where my OCD likes to use over-stimulation, and chaos, to try to make my brain believe I will touch someone inappropriately; and the after service chats when people will want to talk to me, and when my OCD will try to persuade me that my church friends will see past the beanie and glasses and find my missing hairs revolting. Even though each one of these three fears are lies, concocted by my OCD, I ended up dismissing the idea of going to church alone and tried to think of other ways not to be alone today.

            A second thought came to me quickly. Maybe I could go to a coffee shop and order a latte, or a hot chocolate. I could even sit at a table and people watch while I enjoyed my warm drink. But, again, my OCD bullied me and worked to persuade me that I would mess with something around the workstation and get something bad into someone’s drink. (Lord, I never want to hurt someone.) So, with that in mind, my brain listened to the lie and nixed the idea of going to a coffee shop. To be honest, I wasn’t that bummed out because then I wouldn’t run the chance of anyone noticing my barren facial ridges. Plus, within seconds, my brain came up with a third idea anyways. My favorite bench in our community’s park came to mind, and I thought, YES, I could just go sit there, not really interact with anyone, and just be outside for a while. But, unfortunately, that idea didn’t last long. Not because of my OCD, but because the weather app, Dane uses, said it felt like four degrees Fahrenheit outside. (Ughh, I seriously hate how long the cold lasts up here in the Frozen North. This California girl needs her sunny days!) There was no way I was just going to go sit out on a bench, in that kind of cold, and become a popsicle. So, I forgot about that idea as well.

            In the end, I suppose it was a combination of feeling like an utter failure and feeling an intense sense of cabin fever that set the panic off. I turned over in bed, facing towards the door and away from Dane, and stifled the sobs that were beginning to take over my body. In my head, I fought against telling Dane everything because the thing is, Lord, he has been so stressed due to work, and I just didn’t want to add anymore to his load. (God, I didn’t want to be a thorn in my husband’s side, especially when he has worked 13 days straight and is going in, again, today and the next day and the next.) So, I let the tears flow onto my pillow, and when Dane got up, a few moments later, I hid my face partially with the sheet so he wouldn’t know I was crying. He told me he loved me, and I told him I loved him back.

            As he closed the bedroom door, the heater turned on and, as you know, it makes the whole place sound and feel like a windstorm is taking over the condo. It was the perfect loud noise to drown out the sounds of my panic attack. The air rushing through the ceiling vents muffled the little cries escaping my mouth as the full-body sobs consumed me, and the furnace humming in the mechanical closet, next door to the bedroom, masked the sounds of my hyperventilating. My chest tightened, repeatedly, as my panicky breaths came in shallower and shallower. I slammed my eyes shut and willed my body to calm its tumultuous spiral. It took some time but, after a few minutes, I calmed down enough to blow my nose and wipe my face dry. But very quickly the panic tried to return, and my chest prepared for more seizing onslaughts.

            That is when you must have heard me call out to you, God, because instead of the panic returning, I felt a sense of peace surround me. The panic drifted away as if it had never had any real power. My mind became quiet, and I felt heavy. Not in an exhausted, stressful, sort of way, but more like in a restful, calming, sort of way. It felt like I was being enveloped in a comforting, all-encompassing, protective hold. (Were you hugging your daughter, Lord?) I can’t help but think so because just like a child finds comfort in their parent’s embrace, and falls peacefully to sleep, I too snuggled into that loving hold, I felt, and drifted peacefully to sleep myself. After all, deep down inside, I fell asleep knowing I was not really going to be alone today for, when I woke up, I knew you would be there ready to take on the day with me. So, thank you for being there during the panic and when I woke up, God. Thank you for not letting me be alone. I love you so much.

Always,

Your Daughter Kaitlan

P.S. God, will you let those who also deal with panic attacks know that you are there for them? When the panic takes over, can you calm their spiraling minds, envelope them in a comforting hold, and remind them that things will be okay? The panic can seem so dark and scary. So, please let them know that the panic is not as powerful as it seems. Remind each of us who we are loved by—the One who is ALL POWERFUL—because then we can know, that with your help, we can be stronger than the panic. Thank you!

Thank you for reading! If you are new, this is a chronological blog series. It is best read in order. CLICK HERE for the intro.