I just felt like I had to be real because life happens and I sometimes suck at dealing with it, and I love airing my business out anyway. This past year, almost to the date, my life was shifting faster than I could handle. I had just gotten back from Haiti, and that trip honestly left me broken. I was angry at God and confused at what the hell I was doing with my life. I looked for answers in my church community but learned to hide my pain by pouring all I had into the local church. However, my bitterness for the church began to grow, and I isolated myself and felt like I lost all my “church identity” when I stepped back from what I’ve known my whole life.
My family was crazy as any family is, but I didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with the drama and lashed out more than what I’m proud of. It wasn’t until the panic attacks came that I knew I was in trouble. The long nights, the nightmares, and the chest pain were suddenly part of my life. But that wasn’t my breaking point. Not until a month ago, when I couldn’t pep talk myself out of my sadness, I couldn’t pray away what was plaguing me, and I couldn’t find that Bible passage to flood me with peace; did I finally take my mom’s advice to go see a therapist.
I remember the night before beating myself up because maybe I wasn’t trusting God enough, or I was less of a woman because of my inability to handle emotional stress healthily. BUT surprisingly, therapy has been a Godsend in more ways than one. I’m still a mess, but a mess that is seeking help and can’t lie anymore that I have it all together and that I read my Bible and pray all the time. Cause I don’t. There is a stigma around mental health that makes me scared even to post this, and I’ve gotten some backlash for even admitting that I’m even seeing a therapist. All I can say is Jesus knew I needed a little extra help and therapy will only help me grow into the healthy young woman I’m called to be.