I wouldn’t call myself a typical writer. I don’t write every day, although I know I should… or at least try, but I don’t. life gets busy and I get overwhelmed. It’s something I’m trying to be better at, the only problem is when I write I must deal with whatever is on my mind or heart which can 99% of the time.. scare me.
I am what I would call an “in the moment writer.” When I find myself getting extremely passionate about something or learn some sort of tool to use in life, I feel the need to “blog-stream” my thoughts to my very small, intricate fan club. Shoutout to my mom and dad, closest friends, and the random people who for whatever reason decide to click on the link to read something totally unrelated yet extremely personal to all our lives. Thank you.
So, here’s another blog. Same me, attempting at being the most vulnerable and honestly terrified about what words are going to follow once my fingers quite hitting the backspace button on my keyboard.
The easiest thing for me to do, in life, with writing a blog, starting a project, really anything is start. I start reading books and never finish them. I start “traditions” that never turn into a true tradition because I get caught up in the busyness of life and quit trying. I start things, but don’t finish.
I’m working on that.
And as of right now, I’ve started therapy and I haven’t quit. It’s been about 3 months now, 6 months in being back in the States. I haven’t skipped a meeting (partially because of the cost, your girl cannot afford to be out $120). I have stuck it out, as painful and as hard as this experience has been. I, Jordan Cunningham, have carried on. And that, that is something to celebrate!!!
But in the midst of celebrating, there is something I need to clarify or elaborate on.
For those of you who don’t know, I am currently suffering from anxiety and depression. I don’t say that as a cry for attention or anything of that sort. This is just a fact. And notice that I say “currently” because I firmly believe that my Father is going to prevail, and He is going to bring healing. Whether that is in my lifetime or when I see Him face to face, this pain and suffering will diminish. But, within that statement, I want people to realize that mental health is a real thing. It’s not just something somebody can “get over” or “calm down.” I have good days and just because I am having a good day doesn’t mean my anxiety and depression isn’t present. Sometimes my good days can change in a split second of an overanalyzed thought or just “too long” of a moment being alone. It creeps up, and it’s real.
It really concerns me when people think or state that there is a “quick fix” for anxiety and depression. Just like any other illness, it needs to be treated properly and that looks different for anybody who suffers from it. I have been living with anxiety and depression for years, without even knowing the extent of it. I have always been a type of person who overanalyzes just about anything and everything, I am a total 6 when it comes to the enneagram and it’s hard to be okay with that sometimes.
Let me give you an example. As most of you may know, I have flown back and forth to Uganda over a handful of times. BUT only a handful of people know that the day before I would normally fly out, my anxiety would kick in and by morning, I would be hovered over the toilet puking my guts out because of the irrational fears I had developed about flying. 1 in million seems so big to most people, but to me, it’s extremely small. Let me explain a little deeper, my dad passed away when I was 2 years old. He was struck by lightning. 1 in a 700,000 chance and within the past 50 years, only about 3,700 have died. So, when people, not realizing, say things like, “there’s a one in a million chance that your plane would crash,” or “just don’t think about it.” I begin to pick these statements apart knowing and believing that I could be that one. So, as it may be easy for one person to dismiss such a comment or irrational statement – there are some people who have trouble finding peace with such things. Me being one of them.
Among irrational fears like flying, I have come to find out that I will dismiss my need of self-care (mentally, physically and emotionally) for anybody else and for any possible reason. I am an absolute pro at dismissing my own problems for someone else’s, somehow I have warped my mind in believing that their problems are more important than mine.
MY MENTAL HEALTH IS MORE IMPORTANT.
I am currently learning that in order to serve others, I am going to have to serve myself first. I need to be healthy.Physically. Mentally. And emotionally. I am going to have to dig and drill into the hard, rooted, uncomfortable characteristics about myself to try and get a better picture of who I am and why I think or speak about xyz the way I do.
Simply put, a sick person shouldn’t ignore their sickness. They should go to the doctor and receive the medication they need to get better. (total disclaimer: I am not currently, nor will I ever be getting on anxiety and depression medication. I have drug and alcohol addicts on both sides of my family, and I would rather not take any sort of risk of becoming addicted, myself. All that to say, I do believe that medication can and does work for others suffering from anxiety and depression. I have friends who have been or are currently on it, and they are finding peace and freedom in that while knowing our Father gave knowledge to the doctors and scientists who invented such a tool to help. I am proud of you; you know who you are. Forever by your side. I love you.)
Before the year ended, I posted a picture on Instagram of a question I had been pondering on since the new year was creeping up. It stated, “Who do you say I am?” explaining the goals or resolutions, as some may say, for the new year and decade. As I’m rereading my caption, the last paragraph has brought me to tears. It says,” So, for 2020 and this new decade – I’m vowing to myself and my Father that I’m going to unapologetically be me. I am going to remember who He says I am, instead of the lies and harsh words my anxiety and depression have caused. I am going to walk boldly, confidently, and honestly fearlessly for the first time. I can feel it. Healing is coming. Healthiness is coming. This is going to be a good year. This is going to be a great decade. And this is going to be the best me, yet.”
What a prophetic statement I spoke over myself. I am starting to realize that when you speak Life over yourself in mighty ways and are believing in the Truth of it – Satan is going to come after you. H A R D. He doesn’t give you breaks to catch your breath. Hell, he doesn’t even give you room for oxygen. He slowly suffocates you, and if you’re anything like me – sometimes he gets a tiny little victory.
The other night, I was home alone watching Netflix when suddenly – BAM – I was crying, slowly loosing my breath and overthinking just about anything. One second. It took one second for a good day to turn horrible. Anxiety and depression are what I would call silent killers. I say that because whatever thoughts or fears roam through your head seem to be so loud and real to you, while nobody else can hear them. And if you’re anything like me, knowing that makes me want to talk about them even less. You feel alone, useless, and if you’re like me again, you physically start to get cold. It’s scary. But back to my story. Thursday night. Home alone. Good day turned bad day, but shockingly turned back good day. Or night, if you want me get really specific.
Let me explain.
I have been living with my best friend, Alex, and her husband, Bryce, for almost 2 months now. I just want to brag on these two for a sec because they haven’t even been married one full year before they offered up their guest room to me without any hesitation. They have patiently walked with me through post-therapy sessions. We have become die-hard Designated Survivor fans, and we have loved finding our staple meals for our little “family.” Alex and Bryce are easily my favorite part of being back in Nacogdoches. They make life more fun and easier. While they are both creative, passionate, and authentic; most importantly, they have become a consistent safe place for me to come to while living in their home.
Thursday night, both had run off to hang with other friends but for whatever reason (probs, the Holy Spirit doing His job), as I was having my lovely panic attack, I texted her. I asked if we could talk through whatever my mind was overthinking about, and then she was home within the next 30 minutes. This incredible woman sat on the couch listening to what I knew was nonsense but felt like it was extremely real for over an hour. She plugged her ears as I physically screamed as loud as possible so I could relieve my chest from the weight of everything I was carrying on my shoulders. She watched me cry hysterically over the things I just “knew” when dealing with these outbreaks, so much so that I began laughing. She listened the majority of the time, chiming in every so often to remind me of whose voice I was giving too much power to and His voice I was needing to listen more to. By the end of our conversation we were lightly laughing at the fact that this season was going to be fun, yet hard. And before we went to bed, she said something that I just can’t shake, “Even if you aren’t excited about this season of discovering yourself, I am excited for you!” This statement brought me right back to a couple days before the year even started when I wrote down, “Who do you say I am?”
As much as I want to say I have been discovering myself and who my Father says I am, I can’t. I started off strong by fasting from makeup for about 3 weeks, I felt like I was depending on my makeup to remind myself that I was beautiful and that no man would want a woman whose skin is always so bare. LIE. I repeat, lie.
Okay, so I wouldn’t say I haven’t been discovering myself completely – but I did discover one thing, and as I’m typing it out… this needs to be celebrated! BARE SKIN IS BEAUTIFUL. I’m not sure what woman needs to hear that (or in this case, read that), but just reread this: your bare skin is just as beautiful as your skin will a full face of makeup on is. JUST. AS. BEAUTIFUL. Even with all your imperfections. The Lord perfectly molded you with His hands knowing exactly what He was doing, He makes no mistakes. I encourage you to hold tight to that. Read it again, He makes NO mistakes and will never make a mistake. He was creating good things before you, and He will make good things after you. You are one of those good things. Your bare skin is one of those good things.
I think I got off track, but I mean, a little encouragement never hurt nobody. It’s crazy what writing does for me. Opening my eyes to the growth that has already developed even among all the chaos I seem to only focus on. It always feels as if I am the only one with the problems in this small town, which is obviously not true – but remember, it feels real to me and in my head that voice is loud. It’s constantly screaming, “YOU ARE ALONE IN THAT. NOBODY CAN UNDERSTAND.” Which, to be honest, nobody can understand to the full extent of how I feel about a situation or thought or understand what I have experienced, but that doesn’t mean that I should be hiding away from my people slowly suffocating in the background.
All of that to say, this is me speaking. This definitely is not all of me, nor is it probably half of me but this is me unapologetically being who I have become and patiently waiting for the woman I am going to grow into. I am going to vow to myself to constantly move forward and not run in place. I vow to take care of myself, in all aspects of life. And I want to lastly vow to always be honest, never feeling embarrassed for who He says I am.
SO, CHEERS TO THE NEW YEAR, EVERYONE, AND HERE’S TO THE TRUE ME!