Carrying my Candle

Why is it so hard for us to accept love from others?  Or is it not hard for most people and it is just me?

Somewhere deep in my brain, I seem to have come to the conclusion that others can only love me if I’m perfect.  And let’s face it; that creates a huge problem because as hard as it may be for you all to believe, I am not perfect.

And really it’s a breakthrough because I never understood where a lot of my anxiety stemmed from.  How could seemingly different situations cause such similar emotional results?  And the answer is that they aren’t all that different.

It’s hard to rest in the knowledge that others will always love us because it only takes a brief look around to realize that this isn’t always the case.  People abandon those they love all the time, for large and for small reasons.  People are left alone, on their knees, with nowhere to turn.  And what differentiates them from us?  Couldn’t that happen to anyone of us at any point?

But I guess part of the problem with always looking for people to abandon us because of our faults is the idea that we are worth nothing more than our faults, that our blemishes outweigh all that is good about us.

I think of people I love, and I find it hard to think of a single thing that would cause me to stop loving them.  And then I think about myself, and I can think of a million reasons why they should stop loving me.  And perhaps that is partially because I can think of a million reasons why I shouldn’t love me.

And perhaps that’s where most fears stem from, a belief that we simply aren’t good enough.  We aren’t okay.  We aren’t enough.

And so maybe the only way to get over worrying about others stopping loving us is to start loving ourselves.  That’s a love that can’t ever be taken away if we claim it.  And perhaps we should stop judging ourselves based on our worst views, and we should believe that we are worth more than our faults.  And maybe we might not see why others would want us in their lives, but perhaps we should trust them to make that decision for themselves.

In case it hasn’t been apparent through my last two posts, I have really struggled with anxiety over the last few days.  This happens every now and then.  Sometimes it’s caused by external circumstances, and sometimes it’s just caused by brain chemistry, the time of year, and hormones.  This week’s issues are pretty much a combination of all of those.

I wasn’t sure if I should share this post, largely because it is a bit incoherent, and it shares more about myself than perhaps I would like to share.  But I started this blog to be honest, and it’s hard to say you are honest when you aren’t sharing the difficulties.

Part of the problem with anxiety disorders (or mental illness of any sort I’m sure) is that they make you feel utterly alone.  It seems like no one else ever goes through what you are going through.  It makes you feel like you are alone and a freak and doomed to a life devoid of any peace.

And the only way we can help combat those feelings is if those of us who struggle and who have a platform upon which to share them, do indeed share them.  My platform is not large,  but it does exist.

Anxiety disorders are so common.  They are the number one mental illness in the US, and so many people go through them each year.  And then there are the lucky ones like me who pretty much get to experience them from cradle to grave.

But it’s the burden I bear, and we all have them.  None of us gets through life free of pain and suffering.  It’s all about what we do about it, what we make of it.  Do we let it bring us down, or do we let it help us shine our light.

As much as I have fought this knowledge for years with a hefty case of denial, this anxiety and depression is not going to go away.  I don’t have a transient case.  There is every reason to believe that there is just some mess going on in my brain which makes me really susceptible to all of this.  I never wanted this to be true because I wanted to believe that one day it would be gone.  But it took multiple people practically hitting me over the head to get me to realize that it is just how I am, and I will be much better in the long run if I accept that so I can work on trying to make it irrelevant.

And that doesn’t mean I give in to it by any means.  I am nowhere near as lost in it all as I was years ago, and I pray and have every reason to hope that I will be worlds better years from now.  It will change and evolve, and it has and will continue to help me grow in ways I never could if I didn’t have these problems.

When I was first diagnosed with anxiety, the doctor was very careful to point out that with the downfalls of anxiety also come some strengths.  And that’s true just like it is of everything else.

So really, I have no idea where I am going with all of this.  I guess I just wanted to explain why I discuss these issues with dozens of people I don’t even know.  And that’s the best answer I can give.  I don’t have a psychology degree.  (Well, technically I have a minor in it but I didn’t do all that well in those courses.)  I can’t tell the doctors how to fix the errant brain chemicals, and I surely can’t will away this affliction from anybody.  But I can share my words because deep down, for as long as I can remember, it has always seemed to me that perhaps my words are the best I have to offer the world.

I can’t change the cards I was dealt, and I can’t understand why I was chosen to receive them, but I can make sure that I find some way to turn my personal darkness into another person’s light.  And I can teach my girls that we might not always be able to have grace under fire, but we can always be a source of grace for others.  And hopefully one day for ourselves as well.