In Transition
I don't think my posts ever come easy. I always choose to write about topics that are emotionally deep and demanding. I have had this particular post sitting in my drafts since February. While the thoughts I considered sharing on this page have shifted multiple times since then, there is one thing that has been constantly on my mind:
Transition.
For me, that has been a less-than-fun word for the past few years. It has meant change I was not prepared for (but are we ever?), emotions I still do not know how to express, and relationships that have come and gone. It has meant a different living space every four months, a new schedule almost every month, and a different season of being every time. Transition has not been my friend to say the least.
I started this year with the word hope resting on my tongue, mind, and heart, and that has not changed. I am in a wobbly place, for lack of a better word, but I do know that I serve a God who makes all things new and beautiful every single day. Every moment of my inadequacy is covered in His redemption. Every second of my panic is bathed in His grace. Every worry and fear and doubt that creeps into my mind does not hold power over the name of Jesus. And I have hope in that name beyond all else.
But right now, I seem to be finding myself in the midst of the most intense transition I have ever experienced so far. It is a transition of self, and I am terrified.
Last year, I lived in inner city Los Angeles for four months, and it was probably one of the craziest experiences of my life to date. A lot of things happened during those four months, many of which I am still learning to process. The most intense change that took place last year, however, has been the sudden presence of anxiety in my life. This is not something I readily share with many people. The few who do now know this about me do not know the extent to which this new part of my life effects every moment. In fact, I do not often know or understand the extent of it.
As I am learning about anxiety, the way my body and mind handles it, my triggers, and the things that calm me, I deeply feel the discomfort of transition. Change has consumed every part of my life -- what I eat, who I interact with, what I say, how I carry myself, and what I think about.
"What is wrong with me?"
These words are the most daunting of all the thoughts that have come out of this transition. For the past month, I have spoken these words to myself daily, sometimes more than once.
I don't think this is about to be one of those posts that ends with what I have learned during this transition. I do not write this for pity or comfort or support. I write this because I need to be real. This post is meant to be raw because it is still in process, just like me. So I am not going to say here that I know nothing is wrong with me, or that this thought itself is wrong. This transition of self has engulfed me in so much self doubt that I cannot say those things and really believe them. Not yet.
This transition of self has left me feeling less like Michaela than I ever have. I do not understand why certain people I once felt so comfortable around make me nervous or why I immediately hyperventilate when I cry. I cannot explain to you why my body shakes at seemingly random moments or why anger seems to be my new default emotion. And I cannot guarantee that these new parts of myself are not permanent. While I pray they are not, there is very little in my life that I am now sure of.
Again, I do not write this post for pity or attention in any way. If you know anything about me, you know that I am a verbal processor and that writing is one of the most comforting releases for me. These are the things that I could not bring myself to say out loud but that I feel needed to be said, nonetheless. This post is a kind of confession, if you will. And a plea that you would be gentle with me.
We are all in transition, always. Life is not meant to be static. But what a wild thing it is that we all experience transition in different ways.