Anxiety and the next right thing

A few weeks ago, I noticed a joke I had been making about myself a lot.

"OMG," I would say.  Talking like a text message or a Facebook comment.  "OMG.  I mean, my anxiety is so bad right now, I should probably be medicated!"  And then I would laugh and leave the other person wondering if they were supposed to laugh too or if they should maybe be concerned for me.

I was sitting with those questions myself.  Is this funny, or should I be concerned?

After several months of dealing with anxiety and PTSD like symptoms, I heard myself say the same joking sentence in a group of women I met before the Brave On conference with Red Tent Living.  And maybe it sounded differently because a woman who sat across from me at the table has seen me before.  Her eyes showed compassion and concern and I think I heard myself say it seriously for the first time.

My anxiety is so bad right now.  
I should probably be medicated.

At the conference, a fellow Red Tent Living writer talked about doing the next right thing.  I have heard the same truth spoken from one of my favorite bloggers turned authors and activists, Glennon Doyle.  I wrote down in my journal that evening asking myself that question.

What is the next right thing?

Immediately I knew that going to the doctor about my anxiety was the next right thing.  Self-medicating and ignoring whatever was going on for me has not been working out well.  I needed help and it was okay to ask for it.  I made an appointment with my doctor the following week.  The day of the appointment, the nurse was attempting to summarize why I was there and what I had been experiencing.  I started crying and I couldn't talk.  Her eyes grew wide and she said, "That's okay.  I'll just let you talk to the doctor."  She proceeded to type several sentences into the computer which left me feeling like she was writing up some kind of assumption or judgement of me and how crazy I was.

I wanted to run out of the room.  I almost did once.  But, I sat there and waited until the friendly face of my doctor came into my room, sat down and handed me a box of tissues.  "What's going on Jennifer?  Todd has told me a little bit, but what's been happening for you?"

Through my tears I began to share what my anxiety has looked and felt like over the last few months.

The insomnia and nightmares.  Waking up when I do sleep because I think I hear my children screaming in their bedrooms.  Bursting into uncontrollable tears about small things, like messing up the sauce that went with my Greek Lemon Chicken recipe.  Screaming and yelling at my boys all the time and about everything.  And overwhelming moments that I assume are anxiety or panic attacks that feel exactly like my body felt when going through withdrawls from the narcotics I was on for almost half a year.  I wring my hands and arms and legs and I feel like I'm trying to escape my body and I can't begin to describe how awful it feels and how crazy it makes me. And I confessed that if I sleep, I can only sleep with alcohol.  I knew that was a habit that I desperately and quickly needed to break.

She made a plan for me and my care.  While these things are mostly trial and error as we figure out what works, I felt a glimmer of hope that the ball was rolling.  I had shared with someone the hell I've been living with inside of my head, what I had been doing to cope and live with it, and I asked for help. She scheduled several different blood tests in addition to starting me on some new medications.  She recommended a sleep aid that isn't addictive or habit-forming.  And ya'll - by the grace of God, it has been working.  I get sleepy and fall asleep and sleep.  ALL. NIGHT.  LONG.  While I wake up groggy, I'm grateful to have slept at all - and without having to drink myself to sleep.

Realizing that anxiety was becoming a prominent and ongoing problem for me felt like defeat.  I've always thought I should be stronger or to somehow manage all of this on a spiritual level.  I've heard growing up in church my whole life that we can do all things through Christ!  And we are more than conquerors!  And to cast all your cares upon Him and not to worry or be anxious.  I thought that knowing Jesus, meant not struggling with anxiety like I was.

I've been learning though, that knowing Jesus means living with anxiety and seeing that He meets me in the middle of it.  Knowing Jesus and living with anxiety means admitting and owning my own frailty and weakness because that is when He is strong in me.  I've learned that being strong here doesn't mean I won't have anxiety attacks or insomnia.  Being strong here means asking for help and getting myself the care my body and mind desperately needs.

It's easy to feel like a hot mess. It's easy to believe I am hopeless especially when health or life seems to roll from one struggle to the next.  And it's easy to get overwhelmed when I see how long the journey is ahead of me for all that I am facing with health and wellness.

But the wise words of wise women I deeply admire are resonating deeply within me:  Do the next right thing.  

Aren't those words both motivating and comforting?  Not thinking about the 34 steps that need to happen after this first one.  Just stay right here, the next right thing, this day.

So, I'm trying to have those five simple words be my current life mantra. Not just with my anxiety and overall health, but in every facet of my life. Do the next right thing.

What is your next right thing?