I’m not gonna lie. The last couple of weeks have been rough. Anxiety is real. It’s like an unwelcome guest who just won’t leave no matter how much I want it to. I drop kick it out the front door and then it sneaks in the backdoor. After a phone call with our insurance company it latched onto me like a parasite. And it followed me to bed Monday night and kept me company until 4 a.m. Anxiety is not my friend.
It all started a few weeks ago when it snowed. Snow makes Mikayla feel anxious. She deals with her anxiety by following me around all day and talking nonstop. I began to experience a fair amount of anxiety after spending 4 days with my chatty mini-me shadow. Wednesday came, the roads were clear, and we headed to church. I took the girls to their class and I went into the worship service thinking that I would be able to relax and regroup.
We were halfway through the first song and I began to feel claustrophobic. The drums that have never bothered me before were making my chest pound. I grabbed my purse, bolted out of the sanctuary, and ran into the restroom. And then it happened. The worst ugly cry I’ve ever experienced in my entire life came pouring out of me. As I began to pull myself together the door opened and my friend was suddenly by my side. She has a lot of experience working with special needs adults. She listened as I shared what was bothering me and she encouraged me. And then she said 3 words that sent me over the edge. She said “I get it.” As soon as those words were out of her mouth I lost it. I asked her “Do you get it? Do either of your children have anything wrong with them? Do you deal with special needs 24 hours a day without a break? Do you have to worry about if your kids will ever leave home?” As soon as I spit out the last word I wished I could take it all back. I usually just think those things when people tell me they understand. I’ve never actually said them to anyone. But it happened. I was glad that it happened with a friend who will continue to love me even when I’m unlovable.
Hope had a really bad day at church last Sunday. Something wasn’t right even before she went to class. But I was hoping that she would settle down and enjoy class. I got a negative report from our frazzled friend you was helping Hope during class. I was feeling as if everything was spiraling out of control. Things I thought the girls had finally overcome were coming back to haunt us once again. I was so discouraged.
Our insurance company denied a couple of medical claims that we thought they would pay. Totally frustrating. And our insurance is also in the process of reviewing the medical necessity of our girls therapies. A couple of the therapists met with me to discuss what we need to do if the insurance decides to stop paying for the girls therapies. It wasn’t an easy conversation. I didn’t sleep that night because of all of the questions racing through my mind. What if they quit paying for therapies? What are we going to do then? How can this be happening? The insurance will let us know their decision by February 19th. And so we wait.
So I’m totally stressed out and I look at the calendar. A mammogram on the 27th? That should help my anxiety, right? Oh joy. I didn’t want to reschedule it so I go to the appointment. She calls me in and hands me the gown. She tells me the gown opens in the front. If you’re wearing deodorant you need to use a wipe to remove it for the test. Put your clothes in a locker. Keep your purse with you. Sit in the waiting area and we’ll call you soon. Yes. I know all of this. I’ve done it before. But thank you.
I’m reading my book and waiting for them to call my name. And then I suddenly realize that I didn’t remove my deodorant. How in the world did I forget to do that? She even told me to do it. So I ran to one of the dressing rooms and removed my deodorant. I got back before they called my name. After the test was over I went into one of the dressing rooms, put my purse on the chair, and then felt like a complete idiot. It’s kinda hard to put your clothes back on when you forget to stop at the locker and get your clothes. So I sneak out of the dressing room, grab my clothes, sneak back in the dressing room, and get dressed. Yep. There’s nothing wrong with me. Other than I don’t function well on 8 hours of sleep in 2 days time. It’s really nothing that a 72 hour nap wouldn’t cure.
I went to church after I got home from my appointment even though I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t have a full-blown ugly cry in the restroom. That’s progress. As we stood for the closing prayer a friend came up to me. She hugged me and she handed me a paper.
So much truth that I needed to hear while I’m in the middle of my current mess. The Lord will direct our steps. If we lose insurance coverage for the girls therapies He will direct our steps. He cares about every little detail of our lives. He cares about our girls behavior. He cares about my behavior. He cares about how much sleep I get or don’t get. He cares about the anxiety that I carry. He wants me to give my burdens to Him and He will take care of me. (Psalm 55:22) It seems as if I’ve stumbled a million times in the last few weeks. Yet He still holds my hand and I know that He will never let go.