Use Your Words

For the first time in my life, I had been experiencing anxiety in the form of irrational and unfounded fear. I developed a pit in my stomach that took away my appetite. My heart raced uncontrollably to the point of not being able to fill my lungs with air. My smile faded and my usual bubbly spirit hid behind the darkness of my worry. In public, I would cling to my husband instead of confidently making my way around the room. The tears seemed to fall with no notice and no end.

During a scheduled trip to my doctor in January, we dove into conversation about peri menopause. He asked me if I had been moody or tearful… yes and yes. We talked about changes in hormones and the delicate balance between boosting my levels without increasing my risk for breast cancer. As the weeks went on, I wanted relief, even if it came in a pill, but deep down I knew that wasn’t my answer.

I prayed. Constantly. And I prayed more… I asked God to bring me peace, to take away my anxiety, to resurrect my old self, and to specifically give me trust in His will. I asked God to help me find comfort and shelter from the storm that continued to brew in my head. Nothing. If anything, things got worse for me, and I retreated even more inside myself. I don’t like the word crazy, but I was using it often to describe myself.

Then last Sunday came. My day began with exhaustion. After coffee and conversation with my husband, I found myself with the choice of going to church or back to bed. Church won. I needed it. I walked in with tears in my eyes and sat in a different seat with a different perspective. I sang quietly, occasionally brushing the parade of tears from my cheeks. At one point I found myself in prayer selfishly asking God why He had not given me any relief yet. I could not continue like this and needed these chains to fall. Why was he not allowing me to find a way out?

I took my usual notes, but nothing seemed to stand out or sink in. There was no ah-ha moment. But then, out of nowhere, God said, “Heidi, use your words! I gave you this gift, use it to help yourself!” I had been asking God to take it all away, while continuing to hide behind my insecurities, and he was telling me that he had already given me the tools to save myself. In the meantime, during the last few months of discomfort, I think he wanted me to sit with my feelings and be off kilter. He wanted me to feel everything so I could understand the deeper meaning of it all.

So, here’s where I found myself. I am 54 years old. I am no longer 30 or even 40. I cannot do many of the things I used to enjoy. I cannot drink like I used to (thank God!). I cannot dance for hours without my hips aching and foot pain in every step. I cannot stay up late without a sleep hangover the next day. The bags under my eyes are permanent. I don’t laugh as freely or as often as I used to. I no longer hold social butterfly status, feeling comfortable floating around a room engaging in light conversation. My conclusion, I was no longer fun, and I was devastatingly less than my female counterparts.

I am truly middle aged. The beauty of this is I have friends 25 years my senior and 25 my junior. As I appreciate the life experience and knowledge of those older than me, I was sadly comparing myself to my younger friends. They, a few in particular, were who I had been 15 years ago. I don’t want to go back to being that person, but there are pieces of her that I miss. Overall, I miss her ease in life. I have grown and evolved into who I am, and I love this 54-year-old me, but when I started comparing myself to my younger friends, I just felt old. I was not as young, as attractive, or as smart. I was not as funny, as adventurous, as confident, or as interesting. I saw myself as insufficient, incapable and no longer enough, becoming timid, envious, and uncomfortable in my own skin.

God tells us in this life we will have trouble, we will suffer, and we will be tempted, but he also tells us that he will always give us a way out. My way out is almost always my words. My comfort zone, contrary to most people, is my vulnerability and my peace is found in telling my truth. Somehow, I got away from that and began living in my head, continuing to say “I don’t know” instead of digging deep. I needed to step back and examine the root of my anxiety. The more I used my words the more I realized how unrealistic my fears were. I was following the natural process of life, doing it pretty well in fact, and yet feeling very uncomfortable. For the first time in my life, I was playing the dangerous game of comparison. I was always coming up short and sulking in that discrepancy.

So, here’s my 54-year-old truth. I don’t want to be 40 again! My 40-year-old self is a part of my story, but I’d rather not go back there. I should not compare myself to anyone because I was uniquely created with an individual purpose. I need to use my age and experience to foster growth and compassion in others. I do not need to be a social butterfly nor the life of the party. I can still HAVE fun and BE fun with much less alcohol. I will always need a lot of sleep to feel good the next day. I will cry frequently. Sometimes I still have trouble reconciling who I feel like I want to be on a Saturday night with who I know I am on Sunday morning. I have made so many positive changes in the last several years, and my confidence now comes from what’s inside rather than outside. My vulnerability is a strength and not a weakness and should be used to empower others. I have a solid relationship with Jesus, but I still need to learn to trust him in all circumstances. My words are my superpower, but I need to use them carefully. When I use this gift with grace and love, I can always find my way out of the darkness.

In reviewing my notes from Sunday’s sermon, I found these words. “Complaining about our circumstances says we are not trusting in God’s provision.” God has always provided for me. He placed my answer in front of me but instead of simply taking away my pain, he reminded me that he had already given me the necessary tools and encouraged me to do the work myself. When God spoke to me, I began speaking out loud and writing and shortly thereafter, I had reassurance and a better understanding of why this was so hard. Unfortunately, anxiety is not put to rest that easily. It’s pesky and continues to scratch at the surface of my security, but when the pit starts to grow in my stomach and my heart begins to race, I confront myself like an angry toddler and say, “Heidi, use your words. Dig deep, find your feelings, and use your gift to understand them!”