Update On My House Arrest

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The setting is nursing school and the main character is a hypochondriac with anxiety and OCD. We will call her Courtney, because that is her name. In nursing school you learn about most disease processes, and as a person riddled with worry anyway, I undoubtedly had every disease we studied (with the exception of prostate, testicular, fontanel malformations, and maybe cleft lip/palate….yep, the rest were fair game). This hypochondriasis was not unique to me alone. My best friend was convinced she had AIDS without any symptoms or exposure. But this isn’t a blog about her so let’s move on.  During third semester (give or take, this is my story) I became convinced I had lymphoma. The symptoms, albeit vague, were there and my lymph nodes were, in fact, enlarged. No big deal, I’ll just go to the Dr and let them tell me how utterly ridiculous I am and I will then find something else to worry about. The kink in my plan started when the Dr agreed with my diagnosis and thought that my theory was actually likely! After a plethora of labs were drawn and a biopsy was done to find the culprit of my symptoms, I was told, “We will let you know the results in 2 weeks.” Two….WEEKS.  As the days grew longer it consumed my every thought to the point that, not only did I have lymphoma, but I was dying. Part of me knew this was ludicrous (not to be confused with Ludacris). But those thoughts set up camp in my brain just to make sure that any rational thoughts on the subject were redirected back to Crazy Town.

So one night I remember going into the bathroom to wash my face. I don’t remember being sad or upset but when I looked in the mirror, I had this crushing thought. This overwhelming dread and fear that I was dying. Newly married, in nursing school, never having kids.  As the tears began to flow, I became angry that my life was over before it even started. I literally kneeled on the floor, in the dirty bathroom (the military housing was super old and never actually looked or felt clean), with the water still running (sorry Mother Earth, I do better now at conserving water), and I sobbed. Like the ugly Kim Kardashian cry (My bad, I will never reference them again, forgive me). I prayed, “God, WHY?!?”

And as instantly as this cockamamie debacle started, it stopped. I was jolted to my senses and God said to me (not audibly but just as evident), “Don’t you trust me?”  I couldn’t move. I felt a peace that I hadn’t felt in months and I felt so silly for letting something consume my every thought that wasn’t even reality (spoiler alert, I did not have lymphoma). “Don’t you trust me?”

When you are in the middle of the battle, real or perceived, you think it will never end. When I cried day after day that God would give me a baby (that would stay in my womb)….He did. When my first born only slept through (up to) one hour at a time for the first year with no naps and a need for constant movement, I tried to accept my fate. This is it, I will never sleep again. But I did. When a heartache from a broken marriage consumed me and I just knew that not even God could fix this one. He did, and made it better. When a family member was so lost in the throes of mental anguish for TEN YEARS and I thought she was gone forever. Her mind was restored. When I fell into the deepest pit because I was a prisoner in my own home (read my other posts for our family’s autism journey)…I see light at the end of the tunnel.

This Saturday, we have a babysitter coming for the first time in a year and 2 months. This Saturday, I will be in the same room with my husband in the dead middle of the day, without my kids. And not only can I go to the bathroom by myself without meltdowns and fear and panic, but I can go freely from one room to the next without a single scream. This Saturday my son will not see me and will not even know where I am. With a hesitancy and an inkling of a tear, he proudly said, “I’m ready. I can do this.” This may not seem like much to you. But to our family, this victory is monumental.

I say all of this because I talk too much….Oh and also to say this… Mark 4:40 says, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?” Still after being pulled from the rubble so many times? Still after turning devastation into beauty? Still after He has proved His grace time and again….”Don’t you trust me?”

I don’t know what will happen on Saturday. Honestly, I don’t care. The progress we have seen is so huge that I am ecstatic knowing there’s hope. There is a way out of that pit. No matter how deep or how far you’ve fallen. “Don’t you trust me?”…..