Out of the Pit

Out of the Pit

He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked.

—Psalm 40:2

How does one start the beginning sentence of a book? Do I go the formal route with structure and no denying I have a college education, or the new hip way of just throwing it all out there and hoping for the best? Hi, I am new here, and I greatly appreciate you giving me, an unknown author to the world, a chance. Personally, some of the best books I have read were written by previously unknown authors who experienced a spiritual transformation with God-given strength. I believe God allows us to go through these difficult times to not only grow in our own faith but to be there for others when they experience similar circumstances. I was driving in my car one afternoon when the idea of writing this came to me. I was listening to a worship song and had such a burst of energy come out of nowhere. Ideas started flooding my mind, almost as if they had been stored and waiting to make their way through all along. Visions of scripture and my testimony intertwined in my head, and I honestly was caught off guard, but certain this was no mistake. The song ended and I pulled into the driveway to enter the house as reality smacked me in the face. I opened the door to pure chaos as my five-year-old was begging for dinner, and the baby was stumbling as he tried to get his footing as a new walker.

Being an anxious thinker, thoughts came to my mind, like Nice dream, but you’re a mom with young, busy kids—and you have a bachelor’s in business, by the way. I literally believed every lie that approached me, especially that I was not fit for this task. I would even get discouraged after reading about the authors of my devotionals, all stating they had theology degrees next to their names. Each time I read them, I felt unqualified for my vision just because I didn’t feel equipped.

What makes someone qualified to share their testimony and lead others anyway? I had recently read the top 5 reasons couples do not make it in their marriage were infidelity, military, loss of child, finances, and moving. I am happy to say we have never had an issue with infidelity, but we have been through four of the five. Now, going through these very hard things that I know God allowed me to go through for a reason, do you think He would say, You are not qualified until you get a proper education? I am not saying people waste their time going to school to be teachers of God’s word, we need them desperately. I believe God can speak through anyone with any background, and if you don’t understand that your sole identity is Child of God, Satan will have no problem assigning you a new one. So here I am, just a wife and a mom, with a testimony I’d love to share in hopes of helping others.

I am not sure what condition you are in, but I have been in the pit. Not just a pit, the pit. Since God pulled me through, I have had a strong passion to be there for anyone that is hurting and possibly in that place too. God started bringing people into my life that were going through some very dark times, and I realized the gift of compassion and empathy I possessed. I strongly believe God brings people into our lives that have the ability to empathize with us, and it gives us earthly comfort. I have seen the result of helping others, so I wanted to personally bring it to a larger scale and write this book.

I am prayerfully going to try my best to format this as if I were coaching myself back when I had depression. I know the triggers and what to avoid talking about in order to not worsen the situation. I will do my best to be sensitive but also real about what you are going through. I have full confidence in God to help me guide you out of your pit. Before I begin, I would like to pray for you as you enter this journey:

Dear God, you know this child of yours by name, you knit them together in their own mother’s womb. You know every single ounce of their trials and pain, and they desperately need you maybe more than they know right now. Please guide me in the best way to help shine a light on their situation and show them you. I thank you for never leaving or forsaking us and loving us through it all. Please bring healing to this child and remind them during difficult times that they are more than conquerors! We love you God. In Jesus’s name, I pray, amen.

My Testimony

Igrew up in a very loving and God-fearing home with a mother, father, and younger sister. We went to a nondenominational Christian church every Sunday, and my parents were heavily involved in various ministries. Every year we were taken to Walt Disney World, and we have more home videos than anyone I know. My home was completely full of love and nurturing in all ways possible. I am by no means trying to brag about my upbringing, but I am simply trying to convey that anyone can develop anxiety and depression, even if their life wasn’t difficult prior. If my childhood was so smooth-sailing, then what in the world did I need to be anxious or depressed over?

My family had planned a small summer vacation to Cedar Point and Sea World in Ohio. We had some road trip hours ahead of us so we grabbed some breakfast from a fast-food restaurant and eventually reached the park. We went on with our day, rode roller coasters, begged to play rigged, cheap prize-winning games, etc. A couple hours in, we find ourselves at an IMAX theater watching a film on life in the ocean. All of a sudden, my younger sister gets out of her seat and starts running to the exit. On the way there, she had gotten sick and left a trail of yuck all the way down the aisle. It was very traumatic for her as she was crying and embarrassed in front of a theater full of people. My parents figured that it was probably the breakfast sandwich we had eaten that morning since she had only gotten sick once. Within seconds of that conclusion leaving my parent’s mouths, I developed symptoms of sweat, nausea, racing heart, panic, fogginess, etc. My official what-if thinking had established its first imprint on my mind. What if I throw up in front of everyone and cry? I did eat that same sandwich. It is only a matter of time until my life is ruined as well. Once I had come up with enough evidence to support my what-ifs, they turned into When will this happen? And there you have it: a panic attack at the age of nine. I will tell you this though: it never happened. I was certain of becoming a victim, so I held a bag up to my face the entire time. Since my sister seemed to be on the mend, my parents decided to stay another day and try to enjoy the trip. I even talked my parents into getting me a stroller because I was so convinced I was sick. There I was, sure of my upcoming sickness, and I am far away from home in an obnoxious amusement park full of large crowds and noise. Quite a perfect setting for an anxious mind, but I made it out of there alive.

Fall had come and it was time for school again, and my obsessive thinking carried itself into my life as a fourth grader. I still was very anxious of throwing up and would call home sick from school constantly because of this fear. I remember getting the same symptoms I had developed during my first panic attack, and I made myself believe I was truly ill. This scenario would repeat itself over and over in many other situations as a young child. I avoided so many fun activities and birthday parties because of my plagued present moment. I learned to just accept my anxious mind as something I would just have to deal with forever. It was my mental bully, and I allowed it to beat me to a pulp. I felt so differently than others and determined that something was just plain wrong with me.

Out of innocent obligation, I was baptized at the age of nine—I really wanted to partake in communion and be mature. I meant well and I believed in God, but there is so much more that I didn’t understand at the time. I would have gone to heaven by accepting Jesus into my heart and naming Him my Savior, but I didn’t have a daily personal relationship with Him. I knew the stories, and the beliefs of my faith, but I so badly wanted that genuine ache that people had for God in their lives. I felt that if I tried to display that, it wouldn’t be genuine. I would look around during worship at church and see people literally crying out to Him while their hands were raised in the air, like they just wanted God to pick them up. These people expressed such a personal desperation for God that it visually seemed their life depended on it. How could I obtain that—was it just not meant for me?

Looking back, I understand now why I didn’t feel this way naturally, I thought I had all that my flesh needed and was in no need of immediate rescue. I coasted this way all the way to college until my aunt (with whom I was very close) took her own life. I think I was shocked more than anything, but I managed to continue school and work, and push on for about a year while trying to process what happened. Sure, I was completely sad and had nightmares of what occurred, but I didn’t handle it properly. I didn’t go to God, not once.

At the exact one-year anniversary of her death, my whole world changed drastically. This perfect storm was buried deep within me without my knowledge. During college, I was a nanny and watched kids from multiple families. It was 2008. I was in my junior year, and I was babysitting after a long day of school. I had just put the kids to bed after a fun night of playing and I grabbed some coffee. I sat down on the couch to relax, but all of a sudden, I started to panic out of nowhere. I felt like I needed to run. To this day, I do not know the trigger for this particular attack, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. Within seconds, my hope in general was completely gone, and I started questioning who I was and where I was going in life. I developed all the common symptoms of a panic attack and newborn fear was ever so present. This dark cloud formed above me, and no matter where I would go, it would follow. I would get up and walk around their house hoping that scenery change was all I needed, but the feeling remained heavily. I was so scared, but I didn’t even know why.

To most outsiders, my life was going amazingly well. I had a job, an education in the works, and a loving family. I called my mom right away with confidence she would make this foreign feeling disappear. I remember the conversation so well: Mom, I am freaking out. I am very anxious for no reason and I have no hope. I am scared and I don’t understand what is going on. She was confused and reminded me it had been a long day and told me to stop by after work. Now I am being fully honest with you. I believed my mom could single-handedly fix this, since she had fixed everything else in my life thus far. It is natural for a child to run into the arms of their mother or father in times of hardship. When my children fall and bump their head, they will immediately scan the room for my husband or me with their arms raised. Usually there will be lots of tears, but as soon as they are soothed and told it will be okay, they calm down and are able to pick up where they left off.

At the time, I was living in my own apartment about thirty minutes from home and decided to stay the night at my parents’ because of how unstable I felt. I figured I just needed some rest and an encouraging chat with my mom and dad. I was so scared that I actually made my mom sleep on my floor. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was trying to fight a spiritual battle in my mind with my mom as my weapon. Sitting here visualizing it makes me giggle, but it is true. I can just picture my mom shrinking and stepping into my mind and fighting bad guys. It became apparent to me though that my mom couldn’t fix this. It wasn’t something tangible for her to battle. I remember waking up the next day and still feeling this anxiety-driven hopelessness.

My father had experienced anxiety and depression, and because of his history, he was able to relate to this new scary feeling and offer advice. I went in to work the next day at my nanny job and I remember taking the kids to the mall play place while my head was swimming in this storm. I still could not shake this feeling, and I started second-guessing myself as a caretaker for children in this state of mind. I decided to go to my primary care doctor to get some blood work done and talk about possible medication. The doctor checked my vitals, asked what my symptoms were, and made certain I was not considering suicide (which really set off my obsessive thinking!). I had my blood drawn and was hoping that something was just off, and I was deficient in some type of vitamin that could be fixed with a supplement. To my disappointment, my numbers were great and did not reflect this overpowering emptiness inside of me. I wanted a reason for this feeling, something to point my finger at, something to blame. I ended up going on a low dose of an antidepressant and an anti-anxiety medication for panic attacks. Part of me knew that this wasn’t going to solely fix my problem, something was wrong with me, and I was lost in a maze of confusion.

I started focusing on things I did not currently have at this point in my life. I did not have a steady boyfriend, which led to the thought of never getting married or having children. I had completely lost my confidence in myself, and my mind just continued to wander. My what-if thinking had returned at full force and just snowballed into a big mess. I ended up having to quit my job as a nanny and temporarily moved in with my parents. Ironically the week after my depression hit hard, we had a Disney trip planned. I was confident that it would be enough of a