When I was 18, I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. I’ve been fortunate because over time, the symptoms have vastly decreased. They’re still there sometimes, but I can recognize them when they’re happening and calm down without locking myself in a closet. I’m not sure that I’ve ever even had my entire body in the closet of my current apartment, and I know for a fact that I’ve never closed the door. That’s a pretty big accomplishment, given some of the things I’ve been through in the past year.
One of the biggest targets for my anxiety as a teenager was storms, after a particularly awful one took out part of the roof of my home. My fear grew to the point where, at age 18, I would shake and tear up and forget how to breathe if it rained too hard. If the weather called for thunderstorms, I would spend the entire night sitting on my bed refreshing a weather map. Spring and early summer were not a good time for me, man.
Just a few short years later, I’m doing so much better. I can go outside in the rain, shrug off a tornado watch, and only need to be holding my cell phone and not an umbrella to open my front door. There have even been a few times recently when I’ve gone to bed without first checking my laundry room for potential rapists or murderers (it’s a totally rational fear). The last panic attack I had was in September, and frankly, I’d like to see just about anyone live that day in September without hyperventilating. ;)
For the most part, anxiety isn’t something I think about anymore. Every once in a while, though, I feel that familiar tightness in my chest and the normal background noise around me becomes louder than the constant ringing in my ears. It goes away within seconds, but it’s a reminder – not so much of my past fears, but of the healing power of the Atonement. I surely know that I did very little to overcome my anxiety. Yes, I practiced self-care and learned techniques to ease my nerves, but the level of healing I’ve experienced doesn’t come from those small things I have done. It comes from learning of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and from constantly seeking a deeper understanding of its application to my life. It comes from doing my best to live the commandments I’ve been given, and from not fleeing God’s presence when I fail. It comes from discovering that I have a Heavenly Father whose love for me is real and can reach beyond any darkness that surrounds me – or the walls I build around myself.
I don’t want to claim a testimony I don’t have, but there are spiritual things that I know to be true. I know that there is a God. I know that He knows us each individually, all of our heartache and suffering and anxiety, and He wants the best for us. I know that by living the principles of the gospel, even half-heartedly, I’ve been given peace beyond any I could imagine in the first twenty years of my life, and I know that the more I cleave unto God, the less power the whirlwinds of life have to alter my course.
In the words of Nephi, “I know that he loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things.” I don’t know everything. I don’t know why school-aged children with disabilities milder than mine are left to die in cribs in developing countries. I don’t know why people who are trying to follow God get lost and harm other people in His name. I don’t know if every single thing I believe is true. I hope to someday gain a knowledge of those things, but right now, I don’t need to.
What I do know is that I have a Heavenly Father who loves me, and an older brother who lived, suffered, died, and rose to redeem me and give peace to my nervous little heart.
I couldn’t do much of anything without them.
