I’m a Christian with Anxiety. And that’s okay.

Let me introduce myself.

My name is Joannie, and I am married to the therapist here at Grace Abounds.

I’m also a Christian, and I’ve come to realize that there is a common misconception that Christians should not struggle with mental health issues. I’d like to address that misconception if you will allow me.

I know it’s there because I used to believe it.

Burnout/Depression?
Oh, that’s because I’m relying on myself, and not on Jesus.

Anxiety/Panic?
I need to keep my eyes on Jesus.

This is what I was told. And this is what I believed.

For years, I pushed my symptoms aside, chastised myself for being such a poor Christian, and strived that much harder to “right” my relationship with Jesus.

Did it work?

Not at all.

In fact, it made it worse. The pressure I put on myself for being such a failure in my Christian walk simply added to the exhaustion, burnout, fear, and panic I felt.

I lived in this pattern for years.

Years.

I was suffering sometimes 3 - 5 panic attacks a week. Sometimes multiple panic attacks in one day.

For those of you who aren’t aware of the symptoms of a panic attack, let me explain to you some of the different things I experienced either all at once, or just one or two things at a time. There was never any rhyme or reason.

Rapid heartbeat
Tightness in my chest
Shaky hands
Sweaty palms
Nausea
Dizziness
Difficulty concentrating
Extreme emotions (sometimes I couldn’t stop crying for no reason)
A sudden feeling of “doom,” in which I was convinced I needed medical attention without knowing why I might need it. My brain was convinced I was dying, but I didn’t know why.

All of the above were my reality on any given day. When the symptoms would pass, I would get extremely sleepy, oftentimes I had no choice but to sleep. For hours.

Some would’ve labeled me as depressed.
I would get angry with myself for missing so much of the day (even though it was only on rare occasions that I slept) because I’m not necessarily prone to being still for very long. I’ve always been a very energetic and driven person.

Because my husband is a mental health therapist, I had help discovering that what I was experiencing was anxiety and panic attacks and that they often left my body and my brain wrung out and exhausted. The sleep was my body’s way of trying to recover. It was very similar to an adrenaline crash.

Sometimes recognizing that it was anxiety helped me gain control before it overtook me, and sometimes….knowing it was anxiety made it worse because I would get angry with myself for “failing” as a Christian.

After several years of this miserable cycle, I woke up one day and felt like it was going to be a pretty good day. I was on Christmas break with my family, and was going about doing after-Christmas cleanup.

I wasn’t stressed about anything.

I wasn’t worried about anything.

It had been a good Christmas with my kids and husband.

But I noticed my vision was blurry.

I tried to chalk it up to allergies, but as the day went on, it got worse.

The next day I couldn’t see to drive or even walk up/down the steps in my own home.

After a battery of eye exams and bloodwork which were all perfectly normal (besides my sudden need for an extremely strong prescription for glasses), a compassionate nurse practitioner who was knowledgable and open-minded about mental health issues, took some time with me. He asked me questions, and he listened to me as he tried to see how to help diagnose my sudden vision issue.

I answered a battery of questions and cried with each one, acknowledging the honest answer to many of them for the first time.

He asked if I’d ever considered medication to help control my symptoms.

No. I hadn’t. I had refused to even think about using a “crutch” like that. I was stronger than that. I had to be. I was a Christian.

Except…now I couldn’t see.

Daniel held my hand and, with encouragement from him and that caring nurse practitioner, I walked out of that exam room with a prescription for a low dose of an anxiety medication and a diagnoses of “generalized anxiety disorder.”

My husband was pretty convinced I would get my vision back, but I was not. I couldn’t see anything without my glasses! So I scheduled follow-up appointments with the optometrist as I had been instructed to because the only other explanation was early onset cataracts.

I cried for 24 hours, but I took my medication.

Daniel would tell me to get up and do something every now and then, so I’d walk around the yard. Then I would come back and cry.

But 48 hours later, and I didn’t need my glasses to see my children’s faces.

The medicine was working.

I canceled my follow up eye exam.

But I was more confused than ever.

Thankfully I had a very knowledgable and experienced husband at my disposal.

Here’s what I learned from him:
My body and brain had been stuck in a state of “Fight or Flight” for so long that it began shutting certain things down that it didn’t need to “survive.”

In my case it was my vision.

Well….it was my vision that was suddenly more noticeable than the other things it had shut down….

Like my appetite.
My taste.
My energy.
My concentration.

Over the course of the next two weeks, I gained more back than my vision.

I started getting hungry and actually enjoying my food.
I started laughing about silly things.
I started joking.
I started sleeping.
I started reading books….for fun again.
I started recognizing ways that God was working in my life, and my children’s lives.
I started feeling closer to God and understanding scripture better.
I started living. Like…really living.

Because I had acknowledged that my body was failing me, and accepted help. Because I finally realized that I, as a Christian, am not exempt from the fact that we live in a fallen world in which our brains and bodies get imbalanced sometimes and need some help healing.

I finally realized that my need for help had nothing to do with a personal failure, but everything to do with the world we live in and the brokenness of our human bodies and minds.

I have put in some hard work on myself, and so has Jesus over the past couple of years, to aid in my healing process, so don’t think medication was all the help I needed.

My ultimate goal is to get off of my medication, but I’m not going to pressure myself because I’ve learned the damage that can cause first-hand.

Medication isn’t necessary for everyone to heal, but it certainly was for me, and that fact should not make me feel like less of a person or less of a Christian.

I am a Christian who needs medication right now.

Period.

God doesn’t love me less or look down on me for that.

I thank God for my medication and the quality of life it has given me until my brain is healed enough to do without it.

And I thank God for Daniel, who sees the benefit of mental health counsel and medication when necessary.

Don’t suffer.

God has so much to offer you! Don’t miss it because you can’t think clearly.

Accept what you can’t control.
Take that first step.
Put in the work, and together, let’s end the stigma against Christians who need help.