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To date: I had a chocolate bar, a bag of chips, three scoops of ice cream with cake, aside from dinner.
I felt competely capable of binging on sweets and unhealthy food. I felt less so over other things. With my mind locked up for a minute, screaming anxiously in my ear; but my face remained a mask of normal.
I’ve gotten better at masking my anxiety, and even more so at controlling my breathing. But it comes.
I don’t really have much to say or do about my conditions; I’ve not been to a doctor, but talking about it to people I trust help. Today it was just one of those days where I happened to be in church when it happened, so there’s the only logical thing I could do then:
And I don’t mean that the moment I prayed, my mood lifted up like bubbles in the sky; my thinking certainly became clearer, but my mind was still full. I’m still curled up somewhere. I’m still raring to take action so I wouldn’t feel so incapable, and yet I felt like I want to yield in exhaustion. And yes, I can feel the bulk of everything I had eaten to tamp down the feelings.
But I surrendered. Where at the moment, I can do nothing – I prayed. After many hours of my other coping mechanisms, in between all of that, I prayed again. And again.
Because at the moment where I can’t move I’ll just have to believe that God does – that He doesn’t sleep, that He takes care of His children, that He’s willing and able and that He’s with me, and before me, whatever happens the day after, or the next day after that.
I would probably have worse attacks than this in the future. But facts do not make the truth; and certainly my weaknesses do not mean God is not there in my life.
So I hold on.
Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.
Psalms 121:4-5, 7-8 ESV