I went to church on Sunday. It's hard returning to a place where a full blown panic attack has erupted. It's much easier to avoid such venues, to avoid the gut wrenching anxiety about being there. Yes, the number of times I didn't have an attack far outweigh the once but it's that once that causes the struggle. Why is that I wonder?
Could part of it be shame? It's impossible to keep a lid on the attacks when they decide to come, when the fight/flight response goes into overdrive. I know I don't like falling apart in public. Lord, help me forgive those who caused me to believe that somehow I am responsible for them, that I am not strong enough, that these attacks are somehow a twisted way of getting attention, that they are a reason to be embarrassed. Forgive me Father for believing these lies. Especially the one about being embarrassed.
I went to the Canadian Legion on Saturday to hear a woman share of a healing method for PTSD. It was very interesting but the understory is the Legion. They have cheap beer. My ex and I spent a lot of hours at the one in Orangeville where I would watch him get drunk on numerous occasions. I had quit drinking by this time and was forever the designated driver trapped by circumstances. I was nervous about going for that one reason, while the Alliston branch is not one where we spent any time, the sounds and the smells of rancid beer are identical.
Sad memories.
The group was small so we were able to test the healing method which I confess was a bit bizarre but it did yield surprising and instant results. I hadn't realized how much the sound of rattling beer bottles terrified me. Like an air raid siren, the glassy rattle warned of coming danger.
The outcome? Beer bottles can't hurt me.
I am always amazed at what triggers an emotional response. I am just as delighted when it is diffused.
"Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Heb 12:1-2
The Black River is a journey in faith. It delves into an exploration of life: from the calm, clear waters of the good days, the mundane, to the swirling eddies and deep waters of issues that face every one of us. Thank you for visiting this site. You can contact me personally at: godandtheblackriver@gmail.com
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