I slipped my white Nikes on for church. It was a casual Sunday of serving in kids church, and they were the perfect footwear. But I quickly noticed something wrong. A crunchy feeling under my left heel became evident as I poured my Quaker oats into a bowl and added water for breakfast. Sliding the bowl in the microwave and setting the timer for two minutes, I reached down and untied my shoe to find a small shell from last week’s beach trip cracked into a dozen pieces. I didn’t think much of it, poured the sad remains in the trash bin and enjoyed my oatmeal with a drizzle of honey.
From there, the day soon developed into a challenge. Stress began rearing its head as hormonal harmony began to shatter in its less than lovely post-40 way. It was a particular kind of stress that I know too well. The kind that turns each little annoyance into a bee buzzing round my brain. The kind of stress that highlights every dish unwashed, stray sock on the floor, and crumb on the kitchen table. The kind of stress that makes me unreasonably angry at nothing, at everything, at all my people and myself.
I won’t bore you with the slow climax, but sufficient to say after wrangling antsy kids at church for two hours, I was exhausted by my own bad mood and began to crumble over the dumbest things. I also won’t bore you with the legit details of why I deserved to be anxious over my coming week or overwhelmed by the coming summer season. I just was. The more I fought the feelings, the more they accumulated until… I cracked into a dozen pieces. Frustrated, I attempted to escape the overwhelm, but breathing became rapid, tears flowed, shaking hands struggled and confused speech poured out as my husband found me at that crumb filled kitchen table.
Perhaps, this causes you to roll your eyes, but maybe you can relate. Here’s the thing: I am usually rolling my eyes at myself while mid-crumble. Like finding a crushed shell under my heel, I want to throw the broken parts in the waste basket, retie the shoe and move on. But the human psyche, body, and breath are not so easily dealt with.
Five years ago, these episodes of anxiety or panic or what-you-will, accumulated into a complete cortisol blowout and laid me low for several months. I was unable to drive anywhere or function in much of my normal capacity. As a mom of five who needed to do a lot of carpooling, help with homework, etc., I felt ridiculous, embarrassed, and scared that I had somehow irrevocably shattered my system. What was I to do?
The answer felt both impossible and unavoidable. NOTHING. I could literally do nothing. REST. That was the voice of reason (my husband mostly), but the voice in my head screamed:
UNACCEPTABLE.
FAILURE.
DISAPPOINTMENT.
Day in and day out, I woke up just to shuffle to the kitchen for tea, ignore the rising tide of mess, crawl in bed, read, nap, answer questions from my kid’s math here or history there, nap again, and pray. Pray all the time. First for strength to return, then for patience, then for my kids having to deal with a disabled mom, then for strength again. But answers to these prayers were mute until I paused the requests and got silent. In the silence, I heard another voice.
WORTH IT.
BELOVED.
VALUABLE.
Valuable! To whom?
While seemingly valueless to my community, my family, even myself, I slowly came to believe in my inherent value to the One who knit me together in my mother’s womb - unconditionally valuable and loved.
I learned to listen to that Voice. I learned to accept myself with no strings attached. I learned to lean into the Lover of my soul. And… I learned to nap. Ha!
So on this Sunday, amid panic and frustration and my brain screaming all the things I should be doing, I slid off the Nikes again. I laid the broken fragments of my brain and body on the bed. A hundred demands buzzed like wasps and hornets in my mind, but I fought them with surrender - a deep breath, closing my eyes. It took several minutes and some fretful dreams, but eventually I entered equilibrium.
“Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
Matthew 11:28
Sometimes we must strive to enter rest. Sometimes stress is the vehicle that reminds us we are fragile. And sometimes, our fragility is the reminder we need to value not just what we do, but who we are intrinsically in the sight of God.
Consider sharing with a friend who struggles with dibilitating anxiety and stress. It may be helpful to know others are in the battle too.
A nap is a powerful gift. You are loved and needing rest doesn't mean you aren't strong or capable.
Hannah, this was an absolute encouragement to read. As a person who feels overwhelmed with anxiety too, this brings comfort. Thank you for your strength and this beautiful post!