On Why I Believe in God

Toward the end of my freshman year of college, I began to experience increased anxiety. I'd always dealt with low-level anxiety, but this was different. I had moments where I lost my ability to function like a "normal" person. I wouldn't call them panic attacks, as I didn't experience the physical symptoms which I understand are typically involved in panic attacks. Rather, I became completely overwhelmed by the fear that I could not handle a single thing at that moment. Occasionally, I couldn't do much more than curl up in a ball and hope everything would stop feeling so...big. During these anxiety attacks, I felt like everything was just too open - something like the opposite of claustrophobia. I needed pressure on my body, especially on my chest. I needed things to just be smaller for a while.

That fall, it just got worse. The attacks became more frequent and more intense, and I fell into severe depression as well. I struggled to get out of bed some days. I called in sick to work at least once a week. I would sometimes get ready for the day and then suddenly feel like it was all too much and I couldn't do any of it. I'd call in to work, then go lie down on the couch or my bed, wrap my arms around my midsection and cry or try to fall asleep. I'm surprised I didn't get fired from my job. My grades plummeted. I sometimes thought about hurting myself but couldn't bring myself to do it. I hated myself but I hated pain more.

Most days, I had moments where I just wished I could cease to exist. I didn't want to hurt myself and endure physical pain, but I wanted to stop being alive. Depression was an interesting experience - it hurt, but it also felt like nothing at the same time. All the nothing was so painful. Anything I was asked to do was so heavy and so difficult. I couldn't do it. I was drowning in the weight of everything I had to do at the same time I was drowning in all the nothing I felt. 

During this time, I had two things that kept me from slipping completely under. The first was Stephen. He and I were engaged during the worst of my depression and anxiety, and he was so incredibly patient, loving, and supportive during that time. Having him to talk to, to hold me, or just to simply be there gave me something to hold onto. Something to keep my head above water. I will always be grateful to him for that and he continues to be that type of strength to me now, depression or no depression.

The second thing was my belief in God. To extend the drowning metaphor, Stephen was my life-preserver while my belief in God was my anchor. He kept me from floating all over the ocean and getting lost. I always knew who I was and where I was, which was reassuring and helped me to avoid losing my head completely.

I prayed daily that my depression and anxiety would leave me, that I would receive some type of relief, or at the very least that I would be able to hang on until it was over. I would often pray during a particularly difficult anxiety attack or bout of depression that I would find some immediate comfort. I typically didn't receive overwhelming comfort. But occasionally, I did. Occasionally, prayer would result in an overwhelming feeling of peace, a release of the tightness in my chest, and a sense that everything was truly okay. While these moments were rare, and lasted a couple of hours at most, they helped to solidify my belief in things I had been taught my whole life. God is real. He knows me, he actually cares about me, and he listens when I talk to him. He is my Father, and he loves me. I felt strongly that this was so because the only times that I felt completely at peace during my depression occurred just after I had fervently prayed to God. 

In the Book of Mormon, there is a verse which reads, "And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble...for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them." (Ether 12:27). Only recently have I realized that, as much as I hate experiencing anxiety and as much as I feel it has been a major obstacle in my life, it has also been a tool. Through my experiences with anxiety, I have discovered the real power that lies in turning to God for help. So while I sometimes curse my anxiety, I am also grateful for all it has taught me and continues to teach me. It is one of my greatest weaknesses but it is also becoming a strength, for through it I am coming to know my Father.

I'm doing much better now than I was five years ago, but I still sometimes experience anxiety, despite my attempts to abandon it altogether. It occasionally floods through me, and I sometimes feel too overwhelmed to even open the scriptures or kneel to pray. In times like those, I frequently turn to other sources to help get my mind off things. These "other sources" typically fall into two categories. The first, "distractions," includes things like books, movies, or food. They make me feel a little better, but I find no real relief - nothing solid anyway. The second category includes things like spending time with other people or self-help advice. These things help me feel more steady, but it's more like being thrown a pool noodle to give me a break from drowning, rather than gaining the strength to climb out of the pool I've fallen into. The relief is real but, for the most part, shallow and momentary. I still lack real strength and perspective. I'm still in the water.

Then there are times that I decide to shrug off enough of the anxiety to turn to God, almost as if he were sitting next to me, and essentially say, "Forget this. Forget my weaknesses. Forget my fears. I want to spend time with you. I want to be with you. You are important to me, and I am important to you. Will you be with me now?" In those moments, I find it almost easy to slough off the rest of the anxiety (or most of it), and my soul, my heart, my mind are filled with a warm, confident, comfortable feeling. I feel strong. Rather than simply being pulled out of the pool, I am supplied with peace and with power. I find that I can stop drowning, swim to the side, and climb out of the water. I can stand in the sun. I feel its warmth on my face, the breeze on my arms, the warm, solid ground beneath my feet. 

In those moments, the fear leaves me. I can live. I can see. My heart, for a time, is whole and healed. This is joy. This is peace. This, for me, is God. And the more I get to know him, the more I come to love him. He is my Father, and he is real.

*I don't write this post to imply that anyone who struggles with anxiety or depression need only pray in order to be suddenly "healed." Even in my own experience, it took time and outside help (including counseling) to sort through my feelings and get to a place where I was able to manage and finally overcome my depression and severe anxiety. I share these things simply to explain how my understanding of and relationship with God have changed because of my experiences.