Whistle Pop Crackle

"This is just a part of growing up."  -Flynn Rider, Tangled

"Whistle. Pop! Pop! Crackle."
Twitch.
"Whistle. Pop! Pop! Crackle."
Twitch.
"Whistle. Pop! Pop! Crackle. Pop! Pop! Boom! Pop! Pop! Hiss."
That's about when the convulsing started.

The fireworks were rough for me this Fourth of July.  People here really like their fireworks.  I like them too—or at least I did until I found myself alone in the kitchen with some uncut strawberries and a maniac swinging a knife around the room.  It was me.  I was the maniac.

"Pop! Pop! Hiss." I don't understand, "Pop! Pop! Crackle," why this is happening.  "Pop! Pop!" Am I dying?  "Pop!" Stop, please stop!  "Pop! Pop!" Please...

But I couldn't stop.  I couldn't stop shaking, I couldn't stop gasping, I couldn't stop hurting. The knife dropped to the table and I staggered off to my room like Frankenstein's monster (if he were at all like a little girl with post-traumatic stress disorder).   "Pop! Pop! Boom! Pop! Pop!"  I couldn't block out the sound. "Pop! Pop! Boom! Pop! Pop!"  I could feel the walls shake. "Pop! Pop! Boom! Pop! Pop!" I groaned.  "Pop!"  And sobbed. "Pop! Pop!"  And I think I might have screamed. "Pop! Pop!"  But I can't really remember.  I remember feeling bad.   And I couldn't stop it.

My anxiety flares up like that sometimes.  I think mostly I am afraid of pain.  Pain makes me wonder if I will ever be able to finish school.  If I will be able to hold down a job.  If I will be able to get pregnant.  Pain determines if I go out or go home, if I eat lunch or throw up, if I lay down or stand up.  In some of my darker moments I wonder, how much can pain do to me before it can kill me?  Living like that is hard.  Being 22 like that is hard.  A lot of things are hard, things I'll never have to deal with.  I realize that.  For me pain has meant missed opportunity and isolation from my peers.  Pain is the reason my heart jumps out of my chest every time I hear a loud noise or walk through a crowd of people.  

But pain, much as I hate to admit it, has done me a lot of good too.  I'm more empathetic than I used to be, I have more faith than I thought I did, I listen more, I prioritize better, I am more obedient when I don't want to be.  I help people feel good about themselves.  Someone asked me recently who I am when I am my best self.  I think my best is someone really quite spectacular, but pain has been a big part of making that person better.

Pain led to new opportunities.  In pain I drew more pictures, sang more songs, read more books.  I did more family history, I grew closer to my grandparents, I let more people serve me, I loved the people who felt unlovable.  I became a better healer because I knew what it meant to be sick.  I learned more about the world around me.  I brought people together. I started a blog.

My pain has brought a lot of good things into my life.  Sometimes my friends will say things like, “I’m sorry that you had to go through all this, but I’m sort of glad that you did.”  I guess I feel that way about people too.  It’s how I feel toward the Savior. “Sorry you had to go through all this, but I’m so glad that you did.”  I am grateful that Christ not only knows my pain, but can take it away.  I guess I am still working on the belief that He will, but I take a lot of comfort in these words: 

"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:7).

 Here's to the day when I'm no longer afraid.

Comments

  1. UnknownMonday, October 03, 2016

    Thank you so much, Alexis, for all of your blog posts. It is so inspiring to read your stories of your enduring numerous intense trials with faith in the gospel, Jesus Christ, and His Atonement. Thank you for being very brave by being a voice for people who suffer from mental illness. Thanks for being a great example to me: you're so awesome!! :)

    Alex Habashi

    ReplyDelete

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