Confessions of Fear

 

  “Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you.” Mathew 7:7
 
  This is a promise to stand on. This is a promise to hope on.

  While sharing with my home church last night about my growing awareness of the all pervasive hyper vigilance, in a somewhat joking, somewhat wistful way, I said it would be wonderful if I had a secret compartment; one that could be opened with a tiny screwdriver. Inside is the little black off switch to power down the adrenaline.
  (Smile.) God left that out of His perfect design so this means His design is able to do it another way.

  It’s paid to be mindful over the last couple of days as I headed out to the stores to pick up a few items and to get my shaggy, Covid lockdown hair shorn.
  While I’ve always known that visual stimulation is a trigger for anxiety, it was interesting to become aware that crossing a parking lot is an exercise in alertness, wariness and on tippy-toes-ready-to-run guardedness. It is common sense to be alert for cars backing out to avoid being hit but this was over the top.

  For hours after work, I could feel every nerve ending tingling with pins and needles: aftershocks of unreleased adrenaline that took most of the night to dissipate. Up until now, this has been a part of being away from home for an extended period of time. It was interesting to be aware how much I listened for any sort of threat containing noise while tucked away in my office. Previously a sub-conscious practice.

  Identifying what I am afraid of is the purpose behind this being cognizant of what is happening in my mind and body while going about daily tasks. I know as a believer I am not to fear the terrors of the night but these are terrors of the day.  It’s time to admit that being afraid of everything and nothing is a legacy of PTSD.
  I guess the fear of “something happening” is the worst. There’s irony there…something happens all the time and it isn’t all bad! It’s good to remember that.
  My faith kept me from admitting this before now. Deuteronomy’s, “Be not afraid,” fills me with guilt and shame because I am. I thought being afraid implies I don’t have faith, that I don’t trust God to keep me safe so I’ve over-ridden the fear, ignored it, numbed it…basically ran from it while at the same time knowing it consumed my every waking (and sometimes sleeping) moment. It takes a super human effort to do this that is unsustainable.

  
  It’s no wonder exhaustion has moved in and this ole gal is done with the status quo. (Smile.) Having nothing left is good because, instead of relying on my own strength, admitting weakness is the source of strength.
  It’s time for some truth.
  God, I am afraid. All the time. I need Your help to identify these fears so they can be faced head on. It’s time to dismantle this vague and all pervasive generalized anxiety. You have so kindly and tenderly dismantled and healed so many other aspects of the trauma and heartbreak I’ve experienced. You have shown me time and again by tearing down the old, a foundation is put in place for the new.
  I am ready for new…desperately so.
  Thank you for hearing my prayer. AMEN!