Adventuring with Anxiety
Picture this—
you’re riding around a tropical island you’ve never been to before in the night, on the way to a restaurant, on the back of a golf cart holding your one year old in your lap.
The palm trees are a shadow against the dark sky, and while everything looked so beautiful an hour and a half ago, it seems looming and ominous now.
About ten years ago, this wasn’t the case for me. I was the friend to crash a house party with, get lost in the woods with on a spontaneous hike, take taxis through Barcelona at 10pm bar hoping until the early morning.
While my days of house partying are long gone, and my sobriety a coveted characteristic, my ease into adventuring dissipated as well.
The little adventures that made me smile when reminiscing with friends became distant memories never to be replaced until now.
Picking up where we left off, my husband and our three kids are crammed into a four-person golf cart, zooming around a dark island searching for a little restaurant on the water.
All I can worry about is someone popping out of the trees, attacking us. I am fighting to see and believe the best about this island, but my mind is betraying me.
It’s not like I’ve ever had a scary travel experience. I honestly haven’t. I’ve had some unhappy experiences on family trips growing up, but who hasn’t? So why, why, does my anxiety flair up at the times when I’m supposed to be enjoying myself, without a trigger insight?
For one- that’s just how anxiety works. My brain has been hijacked since being in an abusive relationship almost ten years ago. My anxiety plays out in different ways in my life now, and while I still receive help through counseling and holistic means, I still struggle.
The first week on our trip of a lifetime (the location to come on the blog in two weeks!) was a hard one. I spent 36 hours straight awake traveling, having packed for us five through the night. Our kiddos all caught hand, foot, mouth, before we even stepped off the ferry to get to our final destination. We had a huge mishap at the airport that threw us for a huge loop. We forgot to bring cash. Stress is just enough to send my brain into a panic, even if it’s not traumatic.
The first week, I was trying to enjoy the literal paradise we had arrived to, but I just couldn’t shake this depressing rain cloud looming over me. It felt selfish, it was confusing, and no matter how much positivity I spoke over myself, I couldn’t believe it.
That’s about when I finally opened up to one of my close friends, asking for prayer.
On this wonderful trip, I finally could understand that this world is so broken, trouble will find you even in paradise. So will sickness!
I felt bad for being sad…because I knew how generous God had been with our family, and, surely, that means I should be happy, right?
Wrong.
“I keep my eyes always on the LORD. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure.” -Psalm 16: 8-9
I wasn’t even trying to search for happiness through the tangible, I was just trying to silence the negative and fear in my mind.
Holding onto this truth, and Psalm 37:4- “Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart,” I then start repeating something one of my friends advises me when I’m having a hard time- to literally wave my hand to the side and say, “Satan, leave me alone!”
I needed to get out of my head and get into the Word, to remind myself that perhaps, this struggle is rooted in a spiritual battle versus a flesh issue.
Satan would like nothing more to destroy my time away with my family. He’d enjoy nothing more than to make me afraid of God’s creation. He’d be laughing over the animosity that grows during tense situations. He takes credit for making my children sick. Satan loves to drag God’s children down, down, down.
Once I opened up my depression with my friend, and asked for continued prayer, it made it much easier for me to keep my eyes on Jesus and lean on Him for support. He knew how much I desired to seek his presence during this trip, and not to be at war with myself.
The next week of our adventuring looked a lot different. My children all got better, and the daily beach ventures felt so much brighter. We met some locals and learned more about this island. We learned how safe it was, how to get around, and even started going to a church down the street.
The more we tried to get to know the island and appreciate it, the more relaxed I became. We realized how close-knot the community on this island was. How they anticipated a response to their calls, even if you were a stranger.
The more we came to know this temporary home, the more I saw how *my* actual home was giving me a spirit of having to be on guard all, the, time.
Compared to this tiny island, the United States is so much more dangerous. With the speed limit a whole 25mph on the entire island, seatbelts a personal choice, and car seats basically nonexistent, on this island your guard is meant to be let down.
That is not the way of America.
Everyone is a threat, everywhere a threat. Walmart isn’t even safe anymore.
Once I started to open my mind to this new way of living, my anxiety began to leave me alone.
Now that I’m getting that adventure bone back in my body, I’m so hopeful that this re-found bravery will be the prized souvenir I take back home with me.
I missed this side of me.
I had no idea it was still here after all these years.
While I hope someday I never have to adventure with anxiety, I’ll take what wins I can and run with them.
So now the question is, where to next?
