Written in my journal in mid-February….
Today was beautiful. God is awesome, and I was reminded of that today. I am at InterVarsity’s winter conference.
The past week before coming here involved breaking down several times. I am seeing a counselor, and we discussed some deep things recently. Together, we reached the conclusion that panic attacks were no longer my biggest struggle. At one point, they were. But, at some point in time, another issue reached the forefront: repressed emotions. I have been repressing emotions for years. Some emotions come through the cracks but not always to their full extent, and sometimes they do not surface at all.
So, back to this particular week. I’ve been having a lots of little moments this week where bits and pieces would surface, and I would just start crying. I was not totally sure at the time what it was that needed released, but I knew that something needed to come out. I have been praying all weekend that whatever needed to be released could be released so that I wouldn’t go back to my college with the same buried issue. Tonight, though, I did not pray one of my normal, everyday kind of prayers. It was a cry out to the Living God. It was a plea for freedom from the very depths of my soul. It was a cry for the One who defeated death to break the chains that had me so trapped for so many years.
After a few minutes of that, this feeling of darkness washed over me, but it didn’t consume me. It was all the bad emotions I’ve suppressed over the years. It felt dark and cold and … broken. I felt the brokenness, the disconnect between what I felt and what life was originally designed to be before the entry of sin in the Garden of Eden. These feelings were accompanied by images of scenes where people hurt me and of other bad experiences that impacted my life greatly. It was terrifying. It was far worse than my worst panic attack. It was worse than hallucinations of monsters I’ve had in the past. It was real, raw emotions. It was like 10 years worth of pain and emotions, all at once. I was sobbing, and making that like wail-like sort of sound. Tears were pouring in rivers down my face, to my shirt, my lap, the floor… I was a mess. But, somehow, I was okay with that. I was at peace with all of it. I knew that God was there, and I knew my prayers were being answered. I knew that it would pass, and I had to let it happen. I knew that if I tried to stop it, then it would not accomplish fully its purpose.
But then, when the darkness was draining out, this light came flooding in, along with joy and hope and more peace than I ever thought was possible to exist. I am pretty sure I started laughing at some point, just because I couldn’t contain the joy that filled my entire being. I was shaking, to, because the amount of hope and joy and light and life…. my body couldn’t contain all of it.
May I never forget what happened tonight. May I always remember that He is the peace amidst the most scary thing I’ve ever known. Let me never forget that His light shatters the darkness, and the darkness cannot even attempt to fight back, because the light is too powerful. Fear and peace don’t have to be antonyms, and aren’t antonyms for those who place their hope and trust in Christ. I was terrified, but still at perfect rest.
What God did that night was a miracle. He worked through my hurt and my pain to do something beautiful. This, too, is a part of my story. And I cannot keep it hidden. What is written above was recorded in my journal (with some minor edits) on February 18, 2017. I have avoided telling my family and some people about it, but I shouldn’t do that. It is a story of how God works in broken places and it is now a part of my history.