Productive Doubt

Doubt has been dogging me for over a decade. I've tried to quell the questions, but then won't stop worming their way to the surface. I've tried to ignore them or push them deeper, but they will not be disregarded. They will eat away my insides until I let them see the light of day again. But I couldn't. A good Christian doesn't doubt. A good Christian doesn't question the things she's been taught to believe. A good Christian doesn't push back against what pastors are teaching. What if my questions caused others to stumble? What if I ended up dismantling my faith and God collapsed? 

I remember a time years ago when I got this picture in my mind. A picture of a frail little girl, shaking with sobs, stands crumpling before a strong, huge man. The girl is beating on his chest, screaming "why" between her sobs. Why is this so hard? Beating him with her questions and doubts with all her might. And he looks down at her with a face saturated with compassion and love. He's not touched by her beating. He's not hurt. He's not threatened. He knows that soon she'll exhaust herself and either collapse into him or crumple into a ball on the ground. He's waiting, with his arms open, ready for her to lean into him and find rest. He can handle her doubts. He's bigger than her questions. He's not threatened by their power. 

But somehow I've forgotten about that. 

I also remember finding rest in the tension of the doubts and questions and uncertainty. The Dark Night. I realized that the nature of my mind didn't allow me to have "blind faith". People would tell me to "just have faith. Just believe," but I couldn't. And believe me, it seems like it would've been easier to be that way. But then I realized that all my questioning had resulted in a deeper faith that some. I was forced deeper as I groped around, trying to grasp any answers, anything to hold onto. I saw a deep well with panes of glass stacked from the bottom to the top, with varying distances between panes. I started out on the top. And I thought I was on solid ground. But then that pane shattered and I started falling. That's scary. But then I'd land on another pane. Think I found the answer, finally understood and had something solid to stand on. But then that pane would shatter, and I would fall deeper still. A never ending cycle where I fell deeper and deeper into the heart of the well, the source of all life. 

But somehow I've forgotten about that.

Maybe it's the many experiences where I was told to stop questioning. I was shamed for doubting. I was told to just believe. I was made to feel like something was inherently wrong with me because I had questions. That my doubt was sinful. That I was missing something because I couldn't just believe like all these other people. I tried to shove the doubt down. I tried to hide it. But it just ate away. Like worms in my brain. In my gut. I couldn't ignore it. When it was swirling around in my head, it was bigger and scarier and more deadly. Out in the open, where it needed to be, it got the attention it craved and even contributed to making me more whole. 

Productive doubt. We can honor God in our doubting. Questions can draw us deeper. I can't help but dig, but when I thought it was wrong, I feared for my soul because I thought I shouldn't. I forgot that I can honor God by mining for more and more. Digging deeper and deeper, wanting to know him more in a real way. I don't always know what I'll find, and that's sort of scary, but I will keep mining. Mining for a lifetime.

Lucky and Free

Lucky and Free.
Oh, how I've wanted to remember what it feels like to be lucky and free again.
And I think I'm beginning to.

I want to run every day not because I feel like I should, or because I know it's good for me, but because I like it. I feel strong, I feel energized, I feel excited to be alive. I love the bright reds and blues of the cardinals and blue jays. The different hues of green surrounding me, the flowers dotting the path. There's so much beauty everywhere.
I do workout videos because I want to. Because it's one of the few things in my life that I have some degree of control in. I can push my body and feel the goodness of being sore yet growing stronger. I get a degree of satisfaction from seeing results and feeling the effects of those results.
I play piano because I enjoy it. I'm surprised to see that my fingers still remember more than I thought possible, and I can still read music and learn and grow. I find myself drawn to the piano just to stretch myself and try playing the pieces from memory.
I drew the other day with my brother, and discovered that I still can sort of draw. And I enjoy it. I'm not perfect, but the act of creating something that looks even remotely realistic or aesthetically pleasing is great. The shading, the details, the way you can create something out of nothing, a blank page being a clean slate.
I've also started to bake. To make food, mostly desserts, with my brother. It's so simple, but it's great working together.
I play cards, sometimes even with myself, something I couldn't used to do because it felt like a waste of time. It's weird, because of all the hobbies or past-times, that's the least 'productive' one. But I've been playing a lot of cards lately.
I can sit an listen to the birds again, watching the river flow past, immersed in nature that stays the same but is always changing. Before, I would be restless the whole time, my mind hijacked by anxiety and all the things I had to do that were more 'productive' than this. But through all of these strategies and practices I've been incorporating into my life, my mindset has begun to change.
I can read, for fun, and get sucked into a book for hours.
I can sit on the porch and drink coffee, just allowing myself to be.
I can color, watch a movie, or journal, without feeling guilty.
I can work on lessons and instead of feeling the dread toward work that's been following me for so long, I feel excited for the progress the kids have made, for how far I've come as a teacher, and how much room there is for growth.
I do miss my friends, and being in my own space, but this has turned out to be a great place to rediscover being lucky and free. The woods literally in my background, nature surrounding me whenever I go out. More time.
Oh, how incredible it is to taste and see again what it is to be lucky and free.

I look back at where I was a few months ago and it's baffling. I feel like a different person, this a different life. I don't know how I survived in the headspace I was in, but I am so deeply thankful for the healing taking place in my mind and body.

I still don't know what's to come, or where I want to be.
But I'll just savor these small signs I'm learning, once again, to be lucky and free.

Lucky and Free. John Davey

Aware

May is mental health awareness month. I just found out. A month dedicated to raising awareness. I don't know who needs to hear this. Maybe its even just for myself, a step on the journey to my own mental health, but here it is.

Although I've been wrestling with depression possibly since high school, I've never really stopped to reflect on all I've been through. Depression runs in my family; many of us naturally have low serotonin levels, and other genetics that predispose us to mental health struggles, but I just thought what I was living was normal. I never really woke up to the great importance of mental health awareness until recently. 

The end of high school and start of college were extremely difficult times for me, but I didn't have the knowledge or words to know that this wasn't how the world was supposed to feel. I just thought I was a "bad Christian" for obsessively doubting and feeling so low that life itself seemed hopeless and pointless. I figured everyone teetered on the edge of existential crises rather regularly. I knew feeling physically paralyzed when overcome with hopelessness and doubt probably wasn't normal, but I had no means of figuring out why. Thankfully several amazingly life-giving people came into my life and I found ways to cope, ways to hope against hope. I still struggled in the environment I was submerged in, but I heard about something called spiritual OCD. I tried to research it, but couldn't find enough information from the sources I could see. The thought that depression may be playing into the whole scene hadn't even occurred to me. 

It wasn't until after I took a semester off, studied abroad, and finished my last semester that I had a conversation that shed some light onto the struggle bus I had been riding. I graduated early and was temporarily moving back in with my parents, in a fairly new relationship, trying to figure out which future ship to board, and I talked to my mom about some of the struggles that had been dogging me for years, some of the thoughts and the fears. And for the first time, I was made aware that it could be depression. I knew that others in my family battled with depression and other mental health struggles, but I had always imagined them as removed and far away. I didn't really even know enough to say what they were, and I never realized that there could be a name for what was going on in my mind. But at that point, I had decided to move to Beijing to work with a nonprofit and the departure date was closing in; I was about to uproot myself and change homes yet again, leaving all support systems and friends. Thankfully, before I left, I had a chance to talk with the doctor and get some meds. Even then, I didn't really have time to try to understand what was going on in my head. But I took the meds and they seemed to help, but the transient style of the next two years made it hard to be consistent- always moving homes, moving countries, no insurance and no salary, it was a challenging time. 

Then, after I came back for grad school, I decided I was "ready" to go off the meds, which I had already been taking inconsistently due to the lack of availability. Probably not the best move in hindsight, especially since I was undergoing multiple transitions and life-changes yet again, but I did. And for a while it seemed okay. I still encountered existential crises somewhat frequently, still battled with thoughts of hopelessness of the futility of it all, but it wasn't the same as before. It seemed more manageable, what I thought was not too out of the ordinary. 

After finishing my degree in New York, I did it again. I uprooted myself, said goodbye to all my support systems and friends and moved to Shenzhen. I definitely did not realize the chaos I was willingly walking into, and soon I discovered that I wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared for what I would find there. A new school, no textbooks or curriculum, an unfinished building and kids who behave like they've never been in a classroom before. Vague expectations, little support, lack of training and resources, expectations to report progress without clear definitions of what that meant, no horizontal or vertical alignment among grades. Classroom management was an absolute disaster, and this was my first year teaching standards and content to kids. Literacy for a class that has 15 different reading levels in it, some kids who can't say a sentence with others who are nearly fluent. It was enough to make even a seasoned teacher shudder. Add that to a new city, a new apartment, and later a new relationship. I was struggling. Crying after work nearly ever week. Obsessively thinking about work around the clock, never feeling like I did enough. Only able to see the negatives, frustrated with myself for how I was reacting. Having moments at work where I was fighting back tears, struggling to breath normally, feeling overcome with fear. Moments when I wanted to curl up in a ball and never come out from behind the wall. It was like I was carrying a giant weight on my back ever day, waking up in dread for what lay ahead. I couldn't control my thoughts, and they kept taking me in a downward spiral to a place where I could barely function. I just thought it was stress. After all, a first year teacher is usually a mess from all the demands of her new position. But this seemed different. I just thought I needed to chill out, relax, not think about it so much. Just trust God more. But every time I tried, it would get my mind and body even more riled up. It was a frustratingly vicious cycle that I couldn't seem to break free from, no matter how hard I tried I couldn't seem to find freedom. I saw how it was negatively affecting me, my relationship, and all other aspects of my reality. But I felt helpless. Hopeless. I could quit, but this "stress" would just follow me. I had become someone I resented, someone I did not like, someone I looked at and didn't even recognize. I just wanted to be lucky and free again, and I kept thinking it would get better with time. But it didn't. It got worse. 

Then on what was supposed to be a relaxing 2-week vacation, Coronavirus blew up and things kept on spiraling. Now I was in an unfamiliar country, with no computer, no resources, still expected to teach. I was traveling with two great people full of life, seemingly quite carefree, with few responsibilities, which only magnified my own struggles and what I later came to know as anxiety. 

Then I had another conversation. I was explaining my situation to a friend from work, and she suggested a name. She said it sounded like that could be anxiety. And even just having a word that might fit provided some strange sort of relief. I began researching, trying to see if my experience could in fact be anxiety. The thought had never crossed my mind. I just thought I was broken. I'd heard people talk about anxiety vaguely in the past, but I didn't really know what it was or how it affected you. After reading and listening about this monster called anxiety, I began to realize that it was likely that it really was what had been shadowing me for the past 6 months. The unnervingly high scores I kept getting on the unofficial assessments online seemed to support that. But I didn't know what to do to combat the invisible monster of anxiety and his close companion, depression. Before that conversation, I didn't even have the vocabulary to describe what I was feeling inside. And I'm pretty good at putting on a face when I need to, so sometimes, even if I talked about it, people find it hard to believe that I was struggling with anything. I started reaching out to people I knew who may be able to offer guidance or some first step of help. The school counselor, a friend's psychologist mom, using the resources they recommended to keep learning and searching for help. 

I ended up departing the company of those two travelling friends, seeking some sort of refuge in the house of a dear friend in yet another country. It was difficult to leave people I cared about and loved, but things were getting so bad I was becoming desperate for some sort of relief. Another conversation in Germany was the first time I felt hope that it wouldn't always be this way. Hope that there could be change. I tried setting up appointments with counselors, but nothing was working out. Eventually, I ended up coming back to the States, staying with my parents for the time being, hoping to find some sort of stability and routine. 

I reached out to multiple counselors, tried for hours and days to get ahold of doctors. But I was determined to get help. I knew I couldn't get out of that spiral myself. And after several long weeks of searching and appointments, I was prescribed medication that treats both depression and anxiety, as well as OCD, I found a therapist, and another who did a different kind of therapy. That's also when the guy who had been the only bright spot in the past 6 months of my life decided to end things, right when things were starting to come to light and healing was beginning. 

It felt like being kicked in the gut just when I was trying to get back up. But I was determined. 

I've written about how I've invested in my mental health in previous posts, and that's not at all to boast about the progress that's been made, but in the hopes of giving hope to those who are struggling with an issue without a name. 

Oh, I wish I would have known sooner that this beast that's been plaguing me was also known as anxiety. I fumbled and stumbled like a child in an unfamiliar room in the dark, not aware that I was actually in the dark, let alone where the light switch was. I had begun to think that stumbling and falling so much was just normal. I didn't see a light at the end of the tunnel because I thought I was just broken and out of reach of hope. I didn't have the words to express my thoughts or emotions, I didn't understand the situation or how my brain could affect all those things. I never considered the major life transitions that were all happening at once, the innumerable stressors that were suffocating me. I didn't have the awareness to know that this was a time I should ask for help, that I didn't need to try to beat this thing on my own, in the process just beating myself, so I kept trying to defeat it, and kept getting hit with hard blows that left my life feeling absolutely depleted. 

If I had known what anxiety was, if I had an awareness of depression and mental health struggles, maybe I wouldn't have struggled in vain for so long, thinking there was something wrong deep inside me and I just needed to try harder to fix it. 

Now that I've reached out for help, and invested a great deal of time and energy into getting healthy, I feel like a new person. I'm still learning (and unlearning). I still have a long way to go, but I know that I'm not alone. Especially now, in a time of crisis, so many people are coming face to face with mental monsters that they can't describe. They're scary and unfamiliar. They seem to have unlimited power. We aren't aware that it could be our mental health, unaware that there are resources and help. 

Each time there was a turn for the better in my journey, it seems a conversation is what sparked it. So I guess my hope is that we won't brush mental health under the rug. We won't pretend it doesn't exist or that those who struggle with it are somehow inferior. The stigma alone can cause people who struggle to keep quiet out of fear of being judged. I think more of us than we realize have had encounters with mental health struggles while we've been alive, especially now. And the fact that you've survived and can live to talk about it, hopefully even from a healthy place, or even just a place of solidarity, is enough of a reason to be open to sharing your story with someone else. 

Some of us never really learned about mental health. Or maybe we didn't listen because we thought it irrelevant. But awareness really can make a difference. 

Being able to give the monster a name can give us direction and tools on how to defeat it, strategies and a community to support us.
It's easy to hide yourself and feel alone, forgotten, and unseen in your struggle and pain. But there is so much healing to be found by running out into the rain that's been so intimidating. Even simple conversations can start a transformation process that may usher in change. 

Ask your friends how they really are, and truly listen to their response. Be open to sharing your life experience, sharing resources and hope. 

We are not alone. 

Thinking Back

I don't think I'm angry anymore. Instead, I wish the best for you and look forward to learning what's you have in store.
At first, I thought it was all my fault. I piled all of the things I didn't do or should've done into a giant mound over myself, nearly suffocating from the weight and the heat. I felt abandoned. I felt unlovable. I felt rejected. And I knew that my mental health struggles had gotten the best of us. All of my worst fears had come true and when you saw the mess I was, I knew you would leave. And you did. At first I was hurt and angry, mostly with myself but also with you.
But as I've been investing nearly all my time in getting mentally healthy, I've also spent a good deal processing all these feels. Before I felt like I was looking up at this looming ship of inferiority that was about to crush me like a tiny bug. But now, I'm learning to allow myself to feel, work to gain perspective, and stop and give myself a hug. It's tough. It sucks. Losing someone you love and coming to grips with the fact that you may never see them again. It's easy to fall into the trap of thinking all of it is nullified now that the other voluntarily left your side. But I will fight. I will fight to keep in mind the numerous situational factors that slowly drove a wedge between our lives. I will fight to recognize the unlikely environment the pandemic forced upon us, something that neither of us was prepared for, something that would bring stress on even the strongest of relationships. So much uncertainty, so many unknowns, so much being thrown to the wind in exasperation because nobody had answers or any direction.
I know you did what you believed was the best thing for you, and I can now see that the best thing I can do to love you is to let you go. But I'm still rooting for you. I still hope you can find what you need in your new move. That your career will develop and build into what you hope for. That you'll find people in your life who can provide life-giving support. I hope that you can find rest and peace, that you can find happiness and freedom from the Asia stress.
I know that our relationship had its rocks, and that my anxiety left you feeling put in a box. I know neither of us were perfect and my work often became a burden for you, distracting from the life and exploration of the city and terrain we found ourselves in.
But I also recognize that we experienced so much together. We climbed mountains, ate meals, baked together. We tried new things, you held me when I cried, we laughed and laughed until we were doubled over gripping our sides. There were so many special little things that I will treasure, so many experiences I'm thankful for and will remember forever. You brought joy to my life when I couldn't find it any place else, were rays of sunshine in the midst of a hurricane. You helped to keep me sane. Of course there are so many things we both could've done better, but I'm grateful for the time we shared in Shenzhen together.
When things had gotten quite bad with my anxiety, I remember you saying "You need to find happiness without me." I didn't realize that you would later leave, but I'm thankful that I'm finding it. Joy and peace.
Looking back, I don't feel angry. I feel sad because I lost a best friend, as well as a sense of stability, but I'm also learning to find that elsewhere. I can see beauty all around me again. I can see hope that you always told me about in the past, but I could never quite grasp it through my clenched fists. I didn't think growth and change was possible, I thought I would be stuck with the rucksack on my back forever. But I'm watching as change happens. I'm watching as life seeps back into my empty shell, awakening from the hell that was all this anxiety and stress, and likely depression. Before you were the only thing that could pull me out of it, but now I'm learning to crawl out myself. I'm learning to rely on the help of God.
So thank you for being there for me. For listening and walking with me. Thank you for the time we shared. I'm sorry you never really got to know the real me, but I'm grateful she's coming back out again for those around her to see.

Blessing or Curse?

I think lately I’ve realized that I have this tendency to roll things over and over in my mind, seeking to gain a deeper understanding and see a new perspective of the issue at hand, but I’ve seen that it’s not always well received.

Some feel like it’s going round and round in circles, wasting time and energy to say the same thing again and again.

And maybe there’s some truth to that. 

Just look at how I've been writing about the same thing, saying basically the same ideas in different ways. 

Maybe it’s part of the obsessive thoughts that cause me to keep running back to things I’ve already thought through, causing my mind to become enveloped with the thought, examining it from every side, hoping in it to gain some new insight.

Or maybe I just don’t like the thought, and so I roll it around in my brain hoping that it’ll morph and one of these times it won’t be the same as it originally was; somehow it'll be transformed into something easier to swallow.

I’ve come to realize that this is both a blessing and a curse.

I would much rather not have this issue of obsessive thought. I know I can’t change anything by just thinking harder, and it often causes frustration for friends and partners.

But sometimes it does lead to a change in perspective, greater empathy or a slightly different lens through which to see things.

I’m learning that the best way to strip these obsessive thoughts of their power isn’t to try to force them out of my head or shame myself for being drawn back into the same thought over and over again. Trying not to think about it or judging myself for being distracted by it only makes its grip stronger.

I’m still not exactly sure how to maintain a healthy relationship with these thoughts that linger, but I’m learning that change is an inevitable part of our existence. That no matter where my mind stands today, it’s apt to change. And that’s okay.

Overthinking and obsessing may be able to be redeemed into a gift that helps me to see that which others may not always see, but I also see that getting lost in the sea of thoughts can cause me not to be present.

I don’t think I’ll ever lose the part of my identity that tends to overthink things, and I’ll likely keep examining all sides of situations, but maybe that can be shifted into a healthy relationship with thoughts and perspectives. 

Transform me by the renewing of my mind. 

Back in Indiana

In an effort to speak with complete honesty, I thought being stuck here for months would be a tragedy. In the first few weeks, in between breakdowns, as I was groping desperately for any sense of routine, I fought to believe it was possible to get better in this space.
But as I was making intentional efforts and getting the support I needed to get a grip back on reality, I found the grace to submit it to God. Even in a season when everything feels dry and distant, when questions and doubt seem to characterize the everyday, I found grace. I knew full well that if I found healing here, it would be by the grace of God.
That's not to say I don't love my family, for I dearly and deeply do. But it can be challenging at times to find peace of mind in the midst of the struggles in life here. With no friends around, family challenges, in the midst of a pandemic where I've been unexpectedly away from my home in Shenzhen for almost 4 month, away from friends and community, and with no clarity for what's coming around the bend, I knew healing would be His doing.
I don't feel the same obligation as before to fix things or usher in the restoration of certain aspects of relationships. I'm beginning to understand that I can't fix some things, and instead I can practice patience and love, trying to withhold judgement for things I don't quite understand.
Each of us are broken in our own ways. Each of us have a story. And hopefully I'm on the road to becoming one who asks. Who validates. Who listens.
Right now, nearly all of my energy is being invested in me. Before I would feel utterly guilty for that, but I think maybe this is one key way I can give back right now. If I'm not healthy, stable, and secure in my identity, how can I love others well?
It's a weird time now, with no inkling of when I'll go back home. And realizing all of my time at that home was invested in one person (aside from work) who won't be there when and if I return. That hurts. I can't even imagine it, nor do I want to, but that's what'll happen if I ever get to go back to my place in Shenzhen.
So now that I'm not being controlled by anxiety, now that the depression is lessening, I'm working through losing someone I loved dearly who left voluntarily. I'm also coming face to face with this truth that I have no clue what I want to do with my life.
I forget what I enjoy. I struggle with the sheer overchoice.
But I don't have to have it all figured out right now. I don't have to have plans set in stone. I'm learning to again walk confidently into the unknown, yet seeking clarity and listening well, including to myself, but walking in the confidence that comes from a faith in something greater than myself.

After Life

Moved to tears. Feeling feelings in depths I didn't know existed. Watching another man's pain after he's lost something that meant the world to him. Seeing him wrestle. Seeing him fall. Seeing him hurt others in his pain. Seeing him begin to find life again. Then fall again and cause more pain to others. Feeling his feelings, hurting with him, yet finding myself so caught up in the story that I can't help but cry for joy when he finds the slightest bit of hope and beauty and happiness. 

He feels helpless and hopeless. He feels like there's no reason to go on. And if he does, he can live however the f*** he wants. It's not important who he hurts in the process. 

But that's not where the story ends. No. We get to watch as he struggles. As he finds friendship in the most unlikely of places. As he finds himself smiling despite himself. We get to see the care of humanity as others care deeply for him even though he hasn't done the least bit for them. 

We see the shift in him. The shift that happens over time, filled with relapses and pain. But the shift that means there's more. That means it's not all hopeless.
Watching him rediscover that hope, that spark, that desire to live. Seeing him realize he's been an ass. Watching him become aware that others struggle, too, that we never know someone's story until we invest the time to listen and be. Listening to him express appreciation for those who never gave up on him. To see the power in his first steps to healing. And to see the impact that has on those who love him. 

"Hope is everything"

I haven't been this moved to tears by a show for as long as I can remember. He's in so much pain. And his story is so powerful that it's planting sobs deep inside my throat that are surging their way to the surface. Tears streaming down my face. But why? I'm not really sure. 

I just know that there is so much life in this show. So much pain. So much beauty. So much hopelessness that's illuminated by the slightest spark of hope. There's laughter and heartache. There's levels of emotion I don't even have words to adequately express. All I know is that life can be so ugly and so hard and feel so hopeless. But happiness is not completely out of reach. Healing isn't impossible. Joy isn't forsaken. 

I don't even have words for how deeply this is moving me. It's reaching into the depths of my being and awakening something that I wasn't even aware of. Powerfully touching the depths of my soul, resulting in a flood of emotions rushing out through my eyes.

Maybe it's because I relate to it. Maybe because they just did a good job writing and making it. Maybe it's because life really is this dynamic ride filled with change and pain and redemption. 

Maybe, just maybe, there is life to be lived in the midst of the kingdom coming. 

Storms

Storms can ruin our hopes and plans, sometimes even causing destruction and pain.
But it seems that growth and new life always seem to come after the rain.

Running Thoughts

My job isn't exactly a walk in the park.
But I've recently realized that it's not as impossible as I felt up till now.
It's more like an easy to medium run.
But before I was carrying an 80lb rucksack that kept getting heavier with the increasing stressors and crises and uncertainty. But I didn't realize I was carrying the rucksack.
I just thought I was weak, that the weight was a part of my body.
You see, I had a distorted view of reality.
So what you saw as easy and that I was unnecessarily freaking out, I saw as a race I could never win.
Each thing weighed me down more, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move forward.
Maybe you saw the rucksack and tried to tell me to take it off, but I saw it as a part of my own being. Therefore I couldn't understand when you tried to help, I just thought I had to fix myself.
I saw the burden I was becoming for those of you who were walking or jogging with apparent ease. My complaining and wet blanket of an aura was cramping your style. I saw that but felt hopeless.
I was barely surviving.
Then, when I had a that conversation, it was the first time I had the realization that maybe the extra 100 lbs wasn't normal. Maybe it didn't need to be there. Wasn't inherently a part of me. That was the first time in a long time that my twisted reality came momentarily into a blurry focus.
I had to get the rucksack off.
But I didn't know how.
I didn't have the strength or tools to take it off myself.
I searched for someone who could help, but my mobility during the crisis made that a difficult order to fill. I just desperately wanted help. Now I could more clearly see the toll it was taking on relationships, but I felt helpless. Hopeless. It seemed I'd never get it off. Even if I left my job, I'd just be carrying it on with me to the next one.
No, I needed to be free from the extra burden, to find my lost self, to be lucky and free again as I uncovered the me underneath.
So after bouncing around, crying out for help, I finally found some. I started the journey of learning to take it off, throw off the weight and be lucky and free. Medication. Therapy. Prioritizing healing, investing time in me. Meditation, reading, exploring contemplation. Seeing the cognitive distortions that contributed to building the weight I had internalized as something wrong with me.
After several weeks of hard work, surrendering this healing work to a God who is able, I think I'm learning to taste a life where I am capable of running.
The rucksack is gone.
Yes, I've got to relearn proper form, retrain my back to practice proper posture, get back in shape and  learn exercises to help prevent it from reappearing, but now I can finally look back and see the reality of the situation.
No wonder it seemed impossible.
No wonder dread and discouragement followed me like a lost puppy.
I didn't realize it until recently, but that wasn't the real me. I had become one with the extra weight, coming to resent and hate who I had become. Feeling incapable of doing anything under the sun. It weighed me down and deeply affected those closest around.
And for that I'm so sorry.
But now, I'm relearning to be lucky and free.

April 24. I'm learning.

Accelerated Resolution Therapy. ART. Cognitive Behavior Therapy. CBT. Medication. Meditation. Reading and workbooks. Reflection and long walks. Savoring and good talks. Letting go of perfection. Allowing myself to be human. These are a few of the things that have been recently bringing me healing.

I'm my own worst critic. I have unrealistically high standards for myself, and at my worst, I project those onto others as well. I generally absorb all of the blame, thinking everything is my fault and I need to do better in this exhausting game. I move so fast through life, moving cities and countries quite often, never really allowing roots to grow or the ground to soften. I have so many experiences that have subconsciously shaped me, but I haven't taken the time to process them and see their reality.

I'm learning to slow down.
To breathe.
To be present in the moment and recognize the beauty.

I'm learning that it's not always my fault. That yes, of course there are things I could've done differently, but instead of beating myself up for that, I can use those as opportunities for growth. I'm learning that sometimes the environment and situation has more of an impact on relationships that I'd like to admit. I'm realizing that my stress boxes have been maxed out, and anyone else in my situation would probably also be breaking down. I'm realizing that mental health is so important and so vital to health in other areas of life. I'm realizing that it's okay to take time for yourself. To invest in yourself so that you can be a better friend and help for others down the road. I'm learning that I don't have to have it all figured out right now. That change is an inevitable part of life, and it's not necessarily a bad thing.

April 24. Hope.

It's been three weeks since I finally started getting the help I so desperately needed. Originally embarassed and ashamed by my possible need for medication, I'm beginning to realize that it's okay. It's okay to ask for help. To come to the realization that I can't do it myself. It's okay to recognize that my brain chemicals might have been out of whack and medication and therapy could help get it back on track. While I was on antidepressants at the tail end of college, I got off them a couple years ago, thinking I was in a more stable place and didn't need them any more. Maybe I was right, maybe my thinking was premature, but I went to grad school and entered survival-mode, so I couldn't really tell anymore. But then this job started, and I started to experience something I had never felt before. Panic, anxiety, but I thought it was just stress and I needed to try harder to care less and be lucky and free. But I couldn't shake the thoughts, and it started affecting all aspects of my life, causing relationships to suffer and my soul start to die. I was ashamed that I was struggling, for my job looked so easy on paper. I shouldn't be feeling like I do, just try harder, it should be fun, what's wrong with me? Those were a few of the thoughts that prevented me from sleep.

I kept thinking it would get better with time. They always say a teachers first year with kids is super difficult, right? But I knew something was off, I just didn't have words for it. I had never even considered mental health or anxiety could be at the root of it. I just knew that I had become someone I didn't like, obsessing about work, breaking down often, feeling hopeless and helpless to do anything about it. I could see how it was affecting other aspects of my life, but I had no idea what to do since all my efforts just ended in greater discouragement and frustration with the ever worsening situation. Then I had a conversation.
Someone suggested a name.
And that suggestion started the process that led me to feel a little more sane.
Anxiety. It sounds like anxiety. I'd never thought of that. I had always imagined it to be only made up of panic attacks (which I had had several but just wrote it off as the stress getting to me).
So I started looking into what that really means. And I started trying to get help, but the displacement from the crisis made that quite the challenge. Eventually, I had another conversation that allowed me to see that there was hope. Things didn't always have to be like this. I just didn't know how to get there. Later, after returning to the States, still unable to go back to my own place, I had my first session of therapy. I've never been to therapy before, maybe because of stigma or finances or lack of opportunity, but I knew I couldn't get better by myself. My own will is strong, but didn't have the tools or wisdom to more itself along. That session was affirming, but the lady said the first step was to get on medication. The vicious loop of obsessive thoughts and anxiety and depression had to be broken to enable therapy and other work to be done successfully. Not knowing any different, I thought that's what I had to do, so I started the long search for a doctor in the frustrating American healthcare system. After hours of calling, I finally got through. They referred me elsewhere, and I went to a clinic to walk-in and get another appointment scheduled. A week later, I had that telehealth meeting and they prescribed medication. I was still ashamed and embarrassed to have "given in" to taking medication, but the desperation made me swallow my twisted interpretation of the situation and swallow the meds.
And wow, I'm so glad I did.
I know there are varying outlooks on antidepressants and meds for anxiety and other mental health issues, and I'll admit, I still struggle with the stigma that quietly floats around them. But I know chemical imbalances in the brain runs in my family, and I've heard that it can help stabilize you to start working through the underlying issues that add to the struggle. It's been three weeks since I started the medication, and I think the combination of that and two kinds of therapy has made a huge difference in my situation. I laugh again. I can find joy. I see beauty as I walk in the woods and sit by the creek. Meditation has also been key. I've also spent a great deal of time journaling, reading, processing that which I've been in too much of a process for the last 8 years. I've realized things I never consciously realized before. I bought an anxious thoughts workbook and have been working through that as well, and I'm deeply humbled and thankful for the seeming effects of this combination of help.
Last week was the first time in over half a year that I didn't feel anxiety on Sunday when thinking about the week ahead. My classes went alright, one was even a disaster, and I didn't freak out or break down like how things in the past were. The feeling of hope and positivity has become so foreign to me, it feels so weird, but so good to have it back. I'm terrified it's all a fluke and the anxiety will come back with a vengeance, but I will keep moving forward, giving myself room to feel and relax, recognizing that with every two steps forward, sometimes comes one step back.

My Mind. Late April

The sheer amount of events and movement in the last few months is enough to make anyone crazy, not counting the depth of anxiety, the heaviness of depression, and now a recent break-up. I'm slowly beginning to see that while there may be some chemicals off in my brain and some distorted thoughts constantly fighting for control, it's not hopeless. It's not entirely my fault, I'm not irreparable, I'm not a burden to the world. Although I have seldomly felt it in the past, I now am learning that the current of joy and life has been there all along, just stopped up and weighed down by my mind and situation.

April 8, the day after.

It's easy to look back and become discouraged. To see all the things I did wrong, all the ways I was wrong. All the things I could've done better or said better or not said at all. It's easy to heap blame and frustration on myself for all this. And maybe rightly so. I haven't felt like me for half a year. Longer maybe. Yet someone came into my life and wanted to walk alongside me. At first I was hesitant. I knew I had issues and things I had to work through. But they said we could walk together and see what became of it. Finally I decided to take that step, that difficult step, into trusting another, letting him in, walking together. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe I needed to work through my issues, but that was the risk I chose to take. I let him in, terrified he'd walk away as soon as he saw who I had become, he'd realize his mistake and be done. But he didn't.
He held my hand.
Held me up when I felt as though I couldn't stand.
He listened and he asked questions, encouraged and challenged me, kept trying to remind me of what was important and to stop worrying.
I'd like to think I was an encouragement and challenged him, too, to become a better person and pursue that which is true. But I'm not sure if I did, at least anymore. Maybe all I did was deplete his energy and patience stores. Either way, I loved spending time with this man. We laughed, we climbed mountains, walking hand in hand. There were moments of time when I felt like myself again with him, he brought great joy and hope to the situation. He wasn't perfect, not by any means, but as I trusted him more I began to know what love really means. Even in my shaky mental health state, I learned what it meant to put the needs and wants of another first. I never said I was very good at this, but I began to learn what it meant to love and work at it regardless. I gave him the trust knife, leaning more and more on him, but to the point that I was crippling and hindering him. From his dreams. From his goals. My dependency and broken mental and physical state were preventing him, and maybe me, from being whole. In the midst of this coronavirus situation, things just got worse. What was supposed to be a beautifully freeing vacation turned into the most stressful and anxiety-inducing situation (but I didn't even have words at the time to express that my struggle was with mental health). In a country I knew so little about, no computer or materials to meet the demands of my job, so much uncertainty for both of us, one able to handle it much better than the other, the stress and crumbling mental health just caused our relationship to suffer and drove whatever negative was building between us to further. I was depending on him way too much, controlled by my anxiety and stress from my stupid job. I had a schedule and responsibilities, they didn't have many, unless they chose to add other work to these. Our schedules opposite, me exhausted from the stress, all in an unfamiliar country with a mounting crisis back home in China, I was becoming a burden for those that I was with. The mental health deteriorating, I was becoming a mess. But I also finally realized that this was a mental health situation, that it didn't have to be like this. I could get help and/or medication.

From that point on, I've been reaching out, trying to get help. Searching, reaching, calling out for help. The first step was going to Germany to be with someone I loved and someone who loved me. Being with Emmalee was a breath of fresh air, in her beautiful house, with rolling hills all around, it was a slight escape from the anxiety that was incessantly following me around. No, it didn't go away, but there was a conversation that gave me hope that it wouldn't always be this way. But there was already distance beginning to build between the guy I loved and I, and I feared I brought that on myself by leaving. Then the time came when I had to make another choice about where to go and what to do in the midst of the development of the crisis.

I suck at making decisions, it's been a pattern of my life, so why should this be any different? I couldn't bear to go back to being a burden on them in a foreign land where the anxiety never seemed to end. But I didn't know where to go, how long this would last, or when I could go home. So, in a way out of obligation to my family, I went back to Indiana just in time for my mom's birthday. I don't know whether that was a good call or not, but I do know it increased the distance, all aspects, between me and the guy I'd fallen in love with. It felt like he didn't care and was quite content to be lucky and free to do whatever he wanted in the country he was in. That was incredibly hard for me to swallow because I usually show my love by doing everything I can to be with those I care about. He was content and safe where he was, but for some reason I kept pressing, longing to be reunited, walk the journey to healing together. I would've gone there if they would've let me in, but they closed their borders, so I couldn't and maybe that's for the best. But I felt alone, away from all my friends, back at my parents, which carries its own challenges and wins. I kept trying to get help, contacting counselors and doctors, trying to figure out how to get myself better and making those moves. The healthcare system in the US really doesn't make it easy. So many people unable to make appointments or a 3 month waitlist. I kept trying, contacting more and more, finally got in to see a telehealth doctor. Anxiety, depression, maybe the obsessive part of OCD, whatever it is, I think I'm on the long, slow road to healing. Thanks to the suggestion from the guy, I've found a couple people, professionals, who will walk by my side.

Just when that happened, my worst fears came true, and the one I love opted to move on. To give up. To walk away. I wasn't healthy and it was deeply affecting our relationship. I wasn't pushing him forward like I longed to do. I was holding him back with the obligation he felt waiting around and watching my mental health melt. I think he didn't know how to help, and my obsessive work thoughts, spiritual confusion, and anxiety were driving him away. So he ended things with me. He wanted to be free. To make his decisions without the burden of me-waiting around in the hopes I'd get healthy. But also because he feels it's better for me to walk this road myself, without him. Maybe he's right. Maybe he's wrong. I don't know.

But even when he's given up and walked away, I'm going forward to find the lucky and free me. Yes, it sucks, it hurts very deeply to know you weren't enough, to know your issues drove away someone you love, right when you're taking the first steps to recovery. It sucks to know you were holding someone back, that he felt obligated to be my stability and then grew to resent that. It hurts to know the bright spot in your chaotic life saw you as an unhealthy relationship. You didn't push him to his goals, you didn't make decisions but expected him to, you didn't get him off his butt enough like his brother and friends do. It hurts to be told by your best friend that you may never see him again. Maybe down the road we'll meet again, when I'm healthy and lucky and free again.
The reality is, I know I'm not whole. I know you deserve better, to be with someone healthy and confident who can hold you up as well. I think care more deeply about you than anyone before, which is frankly very scary and frustrating. But maybe that means the best thing to do is let go.
I do want you to be happy.

Yes, part of me hurts because losing a best friend when you need support the most is like being kicked when you're down. But I know I can't ask you to just wait around.
You have an exciting future, so many opportunities, as much as I want to go on this adventure with you, to walk into the future hand in hand, you deserve better.
So no, I'm not walking forward FOR you, although I do secretly hope there'll be another chance when I'm really me and you're you. But you've made it clear not to count on that. You've got other things you want to do. I'm sorry I held you back, didn't love you as well as I wanted to, and was a burden to you. I don't know how you got ahold of my heart so quick, but I let it happen, so now this is the price I pay for it.

I'm a broken person, wandering and lost, looking for healing and purpose in this great big world. I know I'd rather walk this road hand in hand, but it looks like now I'm going at it alone. But you better believe I'm going to go hard.
I want to get better, reach a place of peace.
I will fight for joy in the midst of this kick in the teeth.
Maybe this is something I have to do alone. I don't know. But even when others give up on me or judge me, I will move forward.
I will fight to be lucky and free.

I know something for certain. Getting better is my top priority. Finding joy and peace.

I'm on my own.

Hibernation

It's crazy to think that I've gone three years without posting on this blog. It's been a combination of time constraints, being in survival-mode, and fear. I've lost my touch, I'm not a good writer, I won't be able to express the complexity or depth of what I'm thinking or feeling.  A combination of outside, inside, and subconscious forces have pushed me into a 3 year writing hibernation. Yes, I wrote for grad school, but never for myself.  I've tried to come out of said hibernation several times, but have been shoved back into the cave for various reasons. I can't accurately describe what's going on inside or around me in writing because I can't even understand it myself. How could I communicate that to anyone else? I know that journaling is life-giving for me, but I would avoid it, put anything and everything else before it. It helps me process and understand myself, but instead I would drown in the storm of my own swirling thoughts in my head.

I've kept saying that I just wanted several weeks in a cabin in the woods by myself, to process the last 10 years of my life, to work through the things I keep tripping up on. And now I sort of have that time. I'm still working, and can easily get sucked into the twisted perfectionism that robs me of life and joy, but I have some time. So I'm peeking my head out of the cave, trying this tool that used to be so beautiful in my life.

Whether or not I am a gifted writer, I know that writing helps me process, helps me get in touch with my heart and my mind, begin to understand what's going on deep inside. So I will try. Not for anyone else but myself.

More Mid-March Uncertainties

If I had a dollar for every time I've changed plans or had to re-evaluate in the last two months, I'd probably be halfway to 1k. 

Just when I thought I had a plan, things change yet again. Schools are now closing in Germany, moving to online learning for the time being. When you add the 2.5 weeks of closing with the 2 weeks of spring break, you're looking at 5 more weeks of uncertainty. Now that my host might leave, I've got to think about where I want to be. 

Is this a time to go back and be with family? To go somewhere where I can focus on my mental health? Be with people who know me? Find a place alone somewhere to process through all of the things that are happening? 

Yesterday I got a breath of fresh air by going on a run, resting on a bench under the brilliant warmth of the sun, overlooking the green valley covered with grass and trees, the epitome of serenity. But then it's a harsh transition to come back to the reality that I currently don't have a home. I can't even legally enter the country where I live because my visa has expired in the midst of this chaotic scene. To renew it, I have to go back to the US or to HK and undergo possible quarantine just to attempt to apply and maybe not even get it. 

The paralysis of analysis is setting in yet again, as I try to figure out where to go and when. I know I'm not the only one in this situation, so my heart goes out to all of those who are in a similar position. It's not easy. It's not stable. It a time characterized by uncertainty, yet I hope I can still find a way to find beauty. 

Uncertainty: Mid-March

Now that I've been in Germany, the work-related anxiety has somewhat subsided. I'm able to think about other things, able to forget about work for a short while, able to see the things that used to make me smile. The clouds here are amazing. The colors, vibrant. The sunshine after the rain, brilliant.

But now another silent force is at play, a force that can either be exciting or crippling, one that many of us fear: uncertainty. We have no dates on when school will re-open, travel bans are starting, borders are closing. The panic is swelling all over the world, threatening to burst into mass chaos. I mean, we're already seeing toilet paper and soap stripped from stores and shelves. I've heard that I should figure out where I want to be stuck for the next 3 months and head there ASAP, but that's the issue. I don't know where to go. Back to China? Vietnam? Stay in Germany? Head back to the States? It's really a mystery where I should be, let alone where I want to be. I want to be near people I love, people who know me, who can help provide the deeply sought after stability. Somewhere that can satisfy the need for routine and familiarity. And it feels like the pressures on to figure that out right now, before I get stuck here in Emmalee's house (which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing).

At least I can count on an income (for now), unlike some people dear to me who are currently wandering without knowing how they'll pay for the next month's rent in a country where they are currently not even living, let alone the housing they're in for the time being, until things get straightened out and they know where they can be. They don't have the dependability of an income, or even a job when this is all over.

So the question now arises: what do I value the most and where should I go to see that followed through.

The Invisible Monster: Early March

4 countries. Almost 8 weeks.
Others may look at my life and feel jealous of me.
After all, I'm basically getting paid to travel and work remotely. Right?
But let me tell you, it's not as glamorous as it seems, not as glamourous as it could be.
Especially with the unwelcome, relentless company of the unwanted companion: anxiety.

Yes, I'm so grateful for the chance to travel and see the beautiful things I've seen. I'm grateful for the chance to visit friends and not have to deal with classroom management (in real life).
I'm most of all grateful for this gift of a little extra time.
But it's not all daisies and roses.
It's not like I wish it could be: work for a few hours and enjoy the majority of my time, embracing and experiencing real, true life.

But instead, the stress I've been feeling literally eating my soul over the last half year has intensified. I've never struggled so much in my life. Depression sucks. But I've never really experienced anxiety, or at least named it that, so I didn't even know what to call it. I just thought I had to try harder not to stress. Try harder not to cry. I had to mentally beat myself into caring less. But I just couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. Logic and reason revealed I was overreacting and crushing myself with this stress, but I couldn't seem to beat my obsessive thoughts into submission. I was drowning in the weight of them. They followed me everywhere and seeped into other areas of my life. I dreaded going to work, I dreaded the inevitable weekly breakdown. I hated how it affected relationships, sucking the life from them, and instead turning my presence into a wet blanket, raining on the party wherever I went.
I debated quitting since day 1, but I also couldn't bring myself to do that. I went to meetings and left feeling 1000 pounds heavier, feeling like I had gotten punched in the gut, just wanting to curl up. I was convinced something was wrong with me. Maybe I needed to pray harder, trust God more. Then maybe the mind-racing stress and anxiety would ease, or maybe even finally leave. But it didn't.
I felt like a burden. An annoyance to my colleagues due to my incessant questions and secret hope for affirmation. With the anxiety came a total loss of self-confidence and trust in my own abilities; how could I, the drowning mess, know what was best for my students?
I left for Christmas, more grateful than you know for the break. But coming back just intensified the anxiousness due to the disillusionment of the hope I had coming back. I wanted so bad to like my job or at least not dread it. On paper, it was an awesome job, but that didn't match up to my reality.
Then another break for Lunar New Year. A chance to get away and start fresh the next semester. New schedule, hopefully refreshed mindset, and hope.   But the Coronavirus had other plans.

A 2 week vacation got extended and cut short at the same time. Midway through the break, we found out we'd be teaching online, so I lost half my vacation to figuring out how to use the online platforms and plan lessons for a group with English levels on all shades from black to white.
So stress began to threaten again. Determined not to give in, I tried to convince myself it was a positive thing, for although I was losing the ability to relax and block out school for the tail-end of my break, I was getting paid to learn how to use new technology. And I love learning new things. But that optimism was short-lived as the stress quickly overpowered and strangled any hope of positivity. It was all new...too much. Completely overwhelming. I knew in my mind that nobody cared enough to tell me I was doing a bad job, that it didn't really matter what I did, as the world wasn't depending on me pulling through, yet the anxiety started to overshadow everything. The fact that I knew I was the cause of this stress and that it was irrational only frustrated me. I felt completely helpless. Powerless to defeat the thoughts that literally plagued me.

On the outside my life looked grand. An extended stay in Vietnam, then Thailand because my visa ran out. Still getting paid, but working/teaching remotely. With someone I cared about and his brother. A perfect life.

But this silent monster I recently discovered may be anxiety was hijacking this perfect life and shoving my head underwater, preventing me from breathing, watching amusedly as I flailed and gasped for breath, trying to relieve the stress and grip of this invisible hand. Through a few conversations, I realized this invisible grip may be the potentially deadly claws of anxiety. Obsessive thoughts plaguing me, anytime I loosen the focus in my mind, it is immediately yanked to work. Thoughts that almost paralyze me. I don't know how to control them, but I can't keep living in constant dread, hating who it's made me become, and fearing that the anxiety will never end.
Maybe it's not something I can will myself to beat. So I've started reaching out. But this Coronavirus situation has made that hard. I'm working online, now from Germany, where I'm with someone who knows me and loves me, teaching live in the middle of the night. On platforms I'm still learning to use, teaching kids who have been inside for 6 weeks, sitting in front of a screen. I don't have a home. I'm living out of the school backpack I brought for my '2 week holiday.' I miss stability and routine. I don't know when I'm going back. My visa for China expired, so I have to reapply in Hong Kong whenever things calm down and schools have an opening date. All my stuff is in my apartment. I don't know if they'll ask us to work weekends and into the summer to make it up (even though we've been working extremely hard to do our best with this online learning). I'm living in someone else's space, so thankful for the friendship and hospitality offered.

You may have noticed that the first part of this is in past tense. That's in part because since I've been in Germany, the anxiety has slightly eased, and I'm hopeful that this is start of the road to getting healthy again. Yet I'm still constantly afraid it will come back with a vengeance, deeply affecting all aspects of my life. I want help, to see a counselor, but with all the instability and being in a new country (for who knows how long), it proves challenging.
I don't know what'll happen or where I'll be in 2 weeks. I'm trying to enjoy this 'extended vacation' during which I'm working extremely hard to curriculum map, lesson plan, design tasks, differentiate and assess learning of 28 kids who vary greatly in ability and independence, with no school textbooks or resources.

But in this time, I want to practice gratitude. In the midst of a seemingly losing battle with anxiety, I will choose to reflect on these things. Not as a way of humble bragging, but simply because in my current state, all I see is the negative, the lacking, the anxiety.
- Emmalee, who's let me invade her home for the foreseeable future, offering love and laughter and adventure in this new country
- a family who loves me and gives encouraging words when I need to hear them and says they always have space for me
- a boyfriend who is patient and helpful and supportive, even when the monster of anxiety makes me feel like a huge burden
- Time... to journal and reflect
- Opportunity to practice being satisfied with good-enough (as opposed to perfection)
- Some superstar students who are truly amaze me with their motivation and independence
- The Alps
- A few colleagues who have been truly understanding and supportive
- Beautiful mountains and hills
- Delicious Vietnamese and Thai food
- Hope
- A healthy physical body that can run
- Sunshine
- Water you can drink from the tap
- Coffee