Cue cheesy Tim McGraw song. But seriously.
Did you know that a side effect of anxiety is feeling like you are dying? It's interesting. You have to be PRETTY stressed out and worried to get to this point I think. Maybe not. I'm not an expert on it other than being an expert on the feelings of anxiety.
A day doesn't pass any longer where I don't feel like I'm dying. It's getting better. Yesterday, there were only two prolonged periods where I thought I was dying. So far today, only one. My anxiety, stress, and worries have diminished dramatically in the past month. I've even felt joy and hope and recognized beauty this past week. These are huge strides.
But why is there anxiety in the first place?
So, I no longer work at camp. A series of unfortunate events made it so that the poster child for camp ministry no longer does camp ministry for the time being. It was an extremely hard, yet ridiculously easy decision. Of course, because life is full of paradox.
This has been easily the scariest period of my life. I've been mistreated by someone I thought was a friend, not taken seriously by people I thought respected me, I carried the weight of being mistreated for six weeks until I could no longer handle it. I do not have a job and my money is quickly running out. I again, pretty consistently feel like I'm dying. Life is strange.
Another strange thing about all of this? It's not being able to be honest with most people about what happened. I'm living in a town where a large majority of people I'll be interacting with are very familiar with the camp. And I can't explain the circumstances as to why my internship ended early. I can't be honest with people about my anxiety issues or the feeling I have that I'm going to die because that would open up a can of worms. It's rather isolating and I've been saddened with the realization that society expects victims to carry and protect far more than they should.
I'm not asking for pity. I know I had a part to play in the things that happened. I know I could have handled things different. I immediately apologized for the part I played to the person who mistreated me, to my boyfriend, and to others around me. I repented and asked God for forgiveness. My role in this feels minute... yet, I am forced to hide all the broken pieces to the world around me. Because as a whole, we don't talk about sexual harassment, we don't discuss victim's rights, we don't offer ways for people who have been hurt to heal. Instead, we make sure the victim knows the role they had in everything. Instead, we make sure the victim feels isolated. Instead, we make sure the victim has to start completely over. Cool. Good.
I'll admit I'm angrier today than I will be in a week, a month, or a year. I admit today that I'm more sad about this situation than I will be in a week, a month, or a year. I will even go so far as to admit that in a week, a month, or a year I could possibly see this entire situation differently. But right now, I'm in the midst of overcoming a personal tragedy with no opportunity to speak out. Thank you Christians, who in the name of grace, preserving the camp's name, and protecting the reputations of people involved have made me feel utterly alone. I appreciate that. (Please, note the sarcasm.)
I will choose to rise above because I believe in true grace. I will choose to rise above because I believe that God's love is powerful. I will choose to rise above because there is hurt and shame everywhere and if I allow it to continue to have control over me, my life will be a mere shadow of what could have been. I will choose to be strong so that I can help others. I will choose to be strong so that God can help me. I will choose to be strong so that one day I can teach my sons and daughters that true respect, true grace means, and true forgiveness might look differently than the cheesy prescription of a Christian culture gone awry.
May God have mercy on my soul. On all our souls.
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