Bipolar4LifeSupport

I grew up in a family that had high expectations of me, and I have personally struggled with anxiety. For several years, I thought that my anxiety was a normal part of life. I didn’t realize that I should not have been having full-blown anxiety at the age of nine, but I was.

My family didn’t believe in mental illnesses, besides those that were obvious to the untrained eye. We did, however, attend a church regularly. I was highly interested in Christianity and studied it on my own. I was able to combat the unnatural anxiety through my relationship with God, and was able to overcome the anxiety throughout middle and high school. College, however, was different.

My anxiety increased exponentially in college. My family, again, didn’t understand. My mother tried to convince me that I was just overreacting, but the anxiety had grown so crippling that I would occasionally stop breathing or lose consciousness altogether. I kept my problems to myself, though, and told no one.

In college, I went through an angry phase, due to corruption in the church that I once called home. In a sense, I had increased anxiety, and had less of a relationship with God. This can prove to be a dangerous combination. My anxiety eventually morphed into self-mutilation disorder, which was manifested by branding my body with hot metal. I just wanted a stimulus stronger than the internal turmoil. The scars left upon my body during that period were originally embarrassing, but now prove to be representatives of my past. They show me where I was, and show me where I do not want to be.

In 2014, I transferred from a state university into a smaller college to study nursing. Naturally, my anxiety increased once more. However, I was less angry at the world, and was looking to religion to quell my anxiety. I was able to control my anxiety until my last semester of nursing school, when I began to lose consciousness again. I also began having flashbacks of an earlier point in my life, when I was actually mentally and emotionally abused. My mind had blocked those memories, and, at the end of nursing school, began unearthing them. Great timing, right?

All of the added stress was directing me toward the idea of self-mutilation, but, for the first time in my life, I had been able to open up to two friends about my past. The fact that they knew my temptations protected me; I had told them that I would never repeat those actions, and they had believed me. Here is some unintended advice: Tell people when you struggle. Find a Korean older brother and tell him your problems. In my case, doing that may have saved my life.

So I went to the clinic, which was run by my teachers. I was apprehensive of starting an anti-anxiety medication, but I couldn’t sleep at night. I was having flashbacks, I was unable to breathe during tests, my blood pressure was elevated — I was falling apart, and I looked like it. I didn’t really take care of myself, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t speak. My teachers had been waiting for me to come to them; I had been advised to get treated for anxiety on multiple occasions by multiple teachers.

The nurse practitioner who had taught my mental health class was the nurse who spoke to me. I was surprised by how understanding she was. My family had simply avoided any type of conversation regarding anxiety. She listened, and she genuinely cared about what I told her. She told me that I needed to see a psychiatrist to combat the flashbacks, but she could prescribe me an anti-anxiety medication to finish the semester, because finals were on the way. Let me tell you: Buspar is a beautiful thing.

I was also curious about how one person who was not even in my immediate family could have had such an impact on my self-esteem and peace of mind. I had an excellent mother and father, even if they didn’t recognize my anxiety as abnormal. They cared about me, for the most part. I told her that, and she simply looked into my eyes. She said, “Maybe it is because the one and only time that you really needed someone to protect you as a child, no one truly listened to you.” Mind. Blown.

I struggled with the medication at first. I was conflicted, because I didn’t see my anxiety as an actual illness. I thought that I was just weak, and needed a medication to overcome my weakness. I believed that we are beautifully and powerfully crafted by God, so how could I be overrun with anxiety?

One day, a Canadian friend, whose husband and daughter I had met in Honduras during a mission trip in 2011, sent me a Bible verse after learning of my anxiety. Jeremiah 29:11, which is a verse that I had read often, says, “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”

Upon reading that in the theme of anxiety, I began to realize where medication falls into place. God wants us to be happy, to be at peace. He wants us to live unmolested by turmoil, but the world isn’t perfect. If medication helps us get from point A to point B, if medication can give us peace, then where is the problem? The medication calmed me during rough patches and let me evaluate life clearly as opposed to a state of panic. That was the purpose of the medication: To give me a little more reaction time.

This article is not directed toward individuals who do not find themselves struggling to embrace a Higher Power of their understanding while working toward recovery. It is directed at those who may want to embrace something, yet cannot identify with what they are comfortable.

Several of the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous (and Narcotics Anonymous) involve a Higher Power, so one could imagine this being offputting to someone who does not identify one. It can be challenging to wrap your head around the steps if God or a Higher Power is not in your life.

Notice I said “challenging,” and not “impossible.” Atheists and agnostics who have been clean for years can attribute their success to both AA and NA, as well as a variety of other resources: rehab, individual therapy, a community of shared beliefs, to name a select few.

The following is an expansion of a conversation I had in session with a client who was struggling with the grip alcohol had on his life. He was reluctant to attend Alcoholics Anonymous and embrace the program, stating he cannot buy into the idea of “a bearded man in the sky.” My client identified himself as an atheist, stating he literally was a-theistic, not believing in a god, by anyone’s definition. He was having difficulty thinking about embracing their philosophy, and imagining feeling part of the AA community.

I asked him what his beliefs were, and he kind of playfully rolled his eyes and threw his head back, as if to silently ask me why we were even discussing this at all. I nudged him to humor me, asking if he believed in the theory of evolution. He said, “yes.”

I wouldn’t let him off so easy, asking him to explain more of what that meant. He stated he believed there was a Big Bang, and the universe was created. Then, molecules huddled together in specific formations, eventually creating living beings. These beings evolved from simpler, single-celled life forms, into much more complex animals and plant life.

At this point, I interjected that he seemed to trust in the process of evolution, of things transitioning as they should: more complex, more interactive, more self-sufficient, more progressive, each new stage being an improvement on the former. He nodded.

So would it be safe to say, I asked him, that he believed in “smart biology,” that things seemed to evolve into better (smarter, stronger, more resilient) versions of themselves? He agreed.

And could it be fathomable, that biology, in its natural, unaltered state, would unfold as it should? Evolving, changing, improving?

“Yes,” he said.

Is it possible then, that evolution or biology was his Higher Power? That his body, in a natural state unaltered by alcohol, is as it should be, evolving and following the best natural course it could? Providing him the opportunity to be the healthiest it could possibly be, make choices from a place of clarity, respond to things from a place of emotional balance?

Hmm … maybe … Or maybe he could make Batman his Higher Power.

The last statement was said in jest, but the previous statements were thought-provoking for him.

Is it possible to use something other than God as a Higher Power? Why not? Some people use nature, or their ideal self. Many use the power of the group itself.

Something I’ve noticed as a therapist is the quantity of information out there to help people. It can get overwhelming. Sometimes you may even feel like telling everyone to keep their recommendations to themselves already.

I encourage my clients to find what works for them. Take the best, and leave the rest. Just so long as it’s providing you with solace, comfort, guidance, strength, or hope.

It doesn’t have to be an addiction, either. It could be depression, anxiety, grief, or trauma that leaves us feeling alone in the world.

Find your way. Allow yourself to find what works for you.

A good therapist will help you through it, if you choose to seek therapy. A good sponsor will as well.

Embrace the healthy changes, and whatever help there is out there for you. Take the leap to the new you. Trapeze artists have to completely let go of the bar as they leap through the air, arms outstretched to grasp the next bar. A Higher Power of your understanding can be your net. Or the force behind your leap. Or even the bar you’re reaching for. Just know that if you keep swinging, it may be fun for a little while, but eventually, you will grow weary, no opportunity to rest or move forward, or you may fall.

Take a leap, either with your faith or with your actions, toward a new life.