Just Sing

There is a line in the song Just Sing, by Paper Bird, that speak louder than any other words in the song. And each time the lyrics play, my eyes swell and thunk goes my heart. The words go " If your heart is beating, or if your heart is beaten up...just sing." 

The reason my heart goes thunk when I hear Esme sing these words, it that my heart, however passionate, driven, and cared for it really is--it does feel a bit beaten up some days. Or at least, my heart feels more vulnerable to switch from a life giving steady beat to a state that needs rest and mending. This is the symptom of ongoing anxiety.

I am still learning how to mend it. And just when I think I have figured it out, and I let loose my grip on the Lord, carrying the weight of my anxiety by myself, I falter. 

Just this past Saturday, my jubilant beating heart took a falling, and turned into ugly panic. It's been months since I've had a panic attack--yet a few days ago I was reminded of how human I am, and how dependent and in need I am for the unconditional love of a Savior. Because, like I said, I am on the mend, and my heart is vulnerable when it comes to these things. What triggered my panic, and left me with a beaten up heart, is not even important in what I've come to realize. Because the common thread, for me, is when I step in front of God, and think I have it under control without Him (cue: lack of prayer & lack of praise...) Whether I let feelings from my past creep in, lies take over my thoughts, or overwhelming guilt win--one thread remains common: when God is at the center, panic dissipates | when I am at the center, panic escalates. 

So this is where the other part comes in. Just sing, the song goes. To me, in this state of recovery, of mending and healing, of surrendering anxiety, guilt, depression, regret, worry, built up lies and all other things -- singing, or worship, or prayer: that is all I know how to really do, and what I need to do. When left with a broken or beaten up heart, one can always just sing (no matter how sad, off key, or full of sobbing the song may be it may be).

I write these things not to bring pity, or to bring concern, or worry. Because truly, I am happy. I am blessed beyond belief. My heart is beating, and my song is one that more often than not is light and cheery. But some days, I sing because my heart is beaten up. And I sing a different song--one of hope and longing, as to mend, and to rest my weary heart.

The song continues on, "If your heart is beating, or if your heart is beaten up, or if your rolling down a long winding track, and you don't believe in luck--just sing." 

Thunk.

Spinning and Free | Love Yourself LinkUp

I just ate three cookies--in a row. I have no time to write. I'm behind on my work. Going to the gym is nonexistent and out of the question. I've slacked on my quiet time. My closet is begging to be cleaned. The food in my fridge is expired. And I seriously have swiffered my house every day yet dog hair is still everywhere.  Loving myself in this state, well, let's just say it isn't easy! And normally, loving myself even a little in a place like this would be impossible. But I honestly think that writing about loving myself, working through loving myself, and focusing on being vulnerable and honest has truly changed my heart. Because, you guys, I'm not having anxiety today. I'm not freaking out. I haven't had a panic attack, even now, when I feel like my world is spinning. So, although I don't have time to write a long one today, I just wanted to say thank you to the woman who have been writing and reading with the linkup each week. Because its truly healing. And me, today, in my spinning world, anxiety free and just a little crazy--but good crazy--well that is something to shout out loud about!

watercolor via  Elizabeth Mayville

Think about such things | Love Yourself Linkup

Sometimes, anxiety is a full on battle of the mind. I first wrote about my untold story, my battle with anxiety, here. In the process of recovering from and overcoming anxiety, if thoughts are not corralled or paid attention to, the flick of a switch can bring on the tightening of the chest and panic that turns into an attack. The mind defaults to worry, if not intentionally lead to focus on the opposite: on things that are good and true. Anxiety is a battle of the mind, and I mean literally.

Part of my personality is that I think best when I am alone. While I enjoy being with others, I recharge my energy best and feel most myself when I have significant alone time each day to focus and get "in the zone"--whether while doing concrete productive tasks like running, swimming, blogging, writing, reading, gardening--this is simply how I work. Because I am wired this way, and because I think best and process fully when just me, in my alone time it is vital that I set aside time to dwell on what is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and admirable. When I do dwell on these things in my alone time, through time with God, reflection, engaging in God's word, prayer, or just thinking about those things while I run, swim, garden, etc, I am better. Anxiety almost diminishes. When I have alone time to dwell on those things, I am well prepared to face those moments when anxiety likes to build up. I am prepared for battle. On the opposite end, when alone time is gone, and time to think about these things is stripped away, then my mind and heart are not equipped to fight.

Which is Worse? | Love Yourself Linkup

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” --Ernest Hemingway

Hemingway gets it. He gets that writing, true and honest writing, can be painful. But I once heard someone say that true agony comes from keeping an untold story inside of you. So which is worse? The heartache from keeping a story within or the painful process that writing that story can entail? 

I used to be the one who would bottle things up. I stored everything within. The parts of me that felt unheard or misunderstood, I kept. The parts that wanted to fix the world but couldn't, stayed in my heart. The parts where I made mistakes, I held inside as shame. And any bit of hurt from words and turmoil in my world, I internalized deep within. I used to be the one who would keep it all in. It would pile and pile until, when at the brink and filled with one more thing, I would shatter into a million pieces and be unable to control my emotions.

As a young girl, I think I always hoped that I would grow out of being sensitive. That I would grow up and out of the way I bottled up and tucked the weight of my world neatly away. That I would learn how to hold back my tears and to honestly talk about how I was feeling. The truth: There are still parts of my girlhood, the bottling things up and holding my anxieties in, that I still deal with today.

I in no way had a hard childhood or girlhood. I experienced joy and life as full as can be. In fact, I would say I had a model childhood filled with so much love. But I still bottled things up. The hard things, overwhelming things, even at times the simple things, and the rough parts of life that are so very present, I held within. I can explain the feeling as pressure from the inside out, on the walls of my heart, on my chest, and an unsettling.

That unsettling, the pressure on my walls within, I now know as anxiety. Those millions of pieces I would shatter into? A panic attack.

This past weekend, after a beautiful day in the mountains with Matt, literally a perfect day full of so much joy in the simple things--fresh air, driving through the country, homemade fudge, perfect blue skies, and wonderful conversation--I came home and within one hour felt overwhelmed by the things I had left behind that day. The internalized things I had forgotten about while enjoying a day in the fresh air, came crashing over me, like a wave I couldn't run from, within just moments of being back in the city. Whatever I had bottled up, was starting to press from the inside out, about to shatter if one more thing was internalized. I was on the verge of having a panic attack. I had been bottling things up over the past week, month, or who knows how long--and something triggered that pressure, that unsettling, and the brink of tears (for what felt like no reason at all).

The difference between now and a younger me, is that I know myself. I know this very part of me. And instead of hiding this part of my story, and dealing with the agony of keeping it within, I am talking about it. Writing about it. And as Hemingway said, its painful. No one wants to say "hey, I have anxiety and sometimes break down into a full on panic attack!" It is painful to be so honest about a part of myself I am not very proud of, but worth it because talking and writing about it brings healing.  For my whole life, I have been the master at keeping my anxiety a secret from everyone (except my Mom and Matt, who know me better than I know myself it seems). But I think its time to face it, and say it, and write it.

Back to this past weekend--on the verge of a panic attack, Matt, who knows this part of me well, encouraged me to get outdoors. To do something I love--to go for a swim. The wonderful thing is, that Matt has helped me bring this part of my story to life. He helps diminish that anxiety and bottling up as being that voice of reason and truth. He has made it clear that when you tell a hard part of your story,  share about a part of yourself you are not so proud of, the response from those who love you is solid and steadfast. That they help you through it and help you overcome it. 

I am still figuring out how to write all of this--how to make it known on my blog that this is something within me, that I deal with on a very real scale. But I am realizing that the agony of keeping something bottled up and untold is far harder than the process of writing about it, or telling someone about it. To me, that is the worse choice. 

To love myself truer and deeper, writing about this part of me is necessary. And hopefully, it inspires you to journal, write, or talk about the untold story in your life.

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I am writing today as part of the Love Yourself Linkup--an ongoing series that will focus on topics such as self image and body image. A community of woman will talk about our thoughts on these subjects, tell stories of our personal experience, share what has inspired us, challenged us, and more. Learn more over at Ann the Adventurer. You can read my thoughts from the past weeks on true beauty, gossip, and writing to an 80 year old me. If you have a story to tell, and want to be a part of the link up, join the conversation by writing and clicking to enter it below.