Healing and Miracles: A Personal Experience

Hey, so I want to talk about something that’s pretty sacred to me, so I’m not sure if I want to share, but I think it could be very important to people who need a hope in miracles and healing, signs of God’s love, faith in a trial, and a knowledge that you are not alone. So, I’m sharing anyway, but you know, take it seriously I guess.

I don’t know if this part is relevant or not, but I get a little too deeply involved with my concern for other people and sometimes internalize their problems in an obsessive manner. There was one summer where I was very distressed about some people’s souls, and it led me to being distressed about my own, and I asked God that I would never fall away, never leave him.

Anyway, in 2017, I completed my student teaching. It was the happiest three months of my life. I was utterly lost in service, staying after school for several hours literally just to bring up a single student’s grade sometimes. I was living for those children--but that also meant they took up all my energy. Then student teaching ended all at once, and I crashed. I crashed hard.

I call the next four months my mental breakdown, but when I tell people that, they sometimes laugh or shrug it off like it must not have been that bad. I’m telling you, it was the worst Hell of my life (and this is coming from someone who has also spent the last ten months completely broken-hearted). I recoursed more than usual to obsessive behavior, which ended up with me reading all the details of a criminal trial that I shouldn’t have read, which led to crippling anxiety since I was not in a healthy mental spot already.  I had a very hard time leaving my house. My big read coat with endless pockets was a Godsend because I could keep my pepper spray in hand at all times and no one would know. I was in a state of constant fear. (Which all of you with chronic anxiety are probably like #mood, but I’d never had it this bad).

To handle the stress and fear, my mind delved deeper into obsessive thoughts that turned into horrifying intrusive thoughts. The best way I know how to explain it is that when I hear something that I can’t understand, my brain decides to internalize it to make me understand it. This is a problem when you are having anxiety about certain specific criminals or sins. And this is very OCD, but sometimes the intrusive thoughts turn into what my brain interprets as needs. For example, the need to know what serial killer thinks like leads to a need to stand in his shoes. Terrified yet? I was. I was scared the world, and I was scared of myself. So, you know, just compound my anxiety by giving me thoughts of, “if anyone knew what was in my head, they’d shun me forever. I’m a horrible person.” (And I usually have some dang good self-esteem). It was outside me and inside me, and there was no escape.

How crippling was this? Not only could I not leave the house without gripping pepper spray, (which also led to my wearing the red coat for way longer in the season that necessary), but I would also curl up in a ball sometimes with horrible graphic thoughts. I was scared to get to close to anyone, emotionally or physically, for fear that I’d lose control and hurt them. I continued substituting because I’m stubborn like that (and too socially anxious to ask to drop jobs I’d already committed to), but whenever the classroom was empty, I would curl up in a ball in the supply closet feeling like Ella in Ella Enchanted--that if I didn’t do the horrible things in my head (some less serious that others--like simply stealing), I would fly into a million pieces.

There were three things I think that helped me survive along the way: 

1. My stake president was definitely inspired because he started an annual mental health conference that made a huge difference in helping me feel that at least I wasn’t alone, and that there were tools out there to help me with my problems. I considered therapy (but chickened out because I’ve been navigating a lot of social anxiety my entire life), I talked my problems out with my parents withholding almost nothing, I practiced breathing, relaxation, and mindfulness exercises. These things at least got me to be able to leave the house and manage my stress headaches so I could go to work.

2. My parents, especially my dad. My mom, who also struggles sometimes, made it clear since I was a child that Satan is real and likes to beat us when we are down. This was comforting because it helped me see that maybe the awful obsessive thoughts weren’t really mine. She also reminded me that a lot of time “bouts of darkness” come before God calls us to a certain work. (Ifor me, this was teaching). Then, my dad assured me that, if I was so freaked out about it, then clearly those things in my head were not my true desires, and that the desires of our heart are what matters to God. He gave me a father’s blessing that was so comforting and powerful. It had such beautiful promises of healing and of God’s love (in spite of my horrible thoughts). I wrote down what I remembered on a notebook paper, folded it up, and kept it in my red coat. Eventually, I was able to trade the pepper spray-gripping for gripping that life-saving square of paper.

3. The temple. I had no car, so going to the temple meant walking. That also meant a lot of time to think, which was sometimes horrifying, except for some reason when going to the temple the horrifying thoughts would turn into long conversations with God in which I received clearer revelation on how to proceed with my life than ever before. And inside the temple, I found peace in God’s understanding, even when the intrusive thoughts entered with me. The fact that lightening didn’t strike me, and God didn’t condemn me with dark feelings when I entered seemed like a good sign.

Another thing I hope you see from this is that when I tell you “my brain decided…” I’m not just trying to push off responsibility. A lot of people roll their eyes when I speak of my brain in third person, but I have to say it to remind myself that I am not my mental struggles and intrusive thoughts. Brains tell us messed up things sometimes, but our spirits decide what to do with that. But anyway, things were still very dark and crippling, and I was walking everyday in a fog, climbing an impossible mountain. 

So here’s the deal, I don’t have this anymore.  Yes, I still have obsessive streaks and battle intrusive thoughts here and there, but it’s nowhere near as crippling and dark. I haven’t felt the “do the horrible thing or explode” feeling in some time. The promises in my blessing came true. God stopped it.

Huh?

Yep.

At the darkest moment, even with the coping strategies, the need to do the bad things led me to a point where I was on my floor crying with no will to go on. I didn’t want to do the horrible things. I didn’t want to think about the horrible things anymore--not only because I didn’t want to hurt people, but I absolutely did not want to disrespect the God who had given me so much. I would not leave Him. I would not let my broken brain persuade me I had to leave Him. So, I looked up to God, sprawled in sitting position against my dresser, and told him, “God, I would rather die than continue to live this way, then to court thoughts that are repulsive to you who has given me so much, loves me no matter what, and whom I love.”

I told him I was done. I asked Him to take me. Clearly, he didn’t. But the exploding feeling stopped dead. I was healed.

It wasn’t immediately perfect. I still felt dark for a bit, and I still held onto that paper when I felt the house (and I still have issues), but It’s bizarre to me to think how I went from pain x10 to pain times x4 in a single moment. Bizarre to think that I haven’t had it come back that bad at all. I believe it was a miracle. I also believe that part of the reason (one of many) for the struggle was that in asking to never leave God, He’d answered by proving me, and it worked. Maybe that’s why he healed it when I told him I was done. But I grew closer to Him than ever in my life, and I grew confidence in my own ability to chose Him. I also was able to share and council with people I loved who were facing or had faced similar breakdowns. The problems may come back, but my faith has grown because I know I can get through them with God.

I’m not the sort of person who is easily grateful for trials, but I do know that God is in control and, if we let Him, will absolutely always structure our lives for our greater good. This year was another, less Hell, and I murmur sometimes, but I know God loves me. Miracles are real. Healing is real. Faith is a power.  It won’t always be instant, but I want to testify of all this and that it will get better, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.