A Letter to Panic Attacks and Anxiety

Dear Anxiety and PTSD-induced Panic Attacks, I hate you. No, I loathe you. You are the bane of my existence and the reason I can’t enjoy the things that once brought me peace and happiness like God or writing or reading. Yes, even reading (don’t ask, just know that it is horrendous). You make me…

Panic Attacks and Sexuality in the Church

My pastor talked about sex last Tuesday night. I knew that before I got there, thanks to the Facebook post on our mid-week service page. In hindsight, I probably should not have gone, but I’m getting ahead of myself. For context, we’re currently going through the book of Ephesians and Tuesday night’s passage of Scripture…

6 Reasons for Midnight Tears

I’m sitting on my bed, crying because all the floors in my parents’ house are tile, which is a problem because I want to sit and be as small as possible but I can’t because tile hurts differently than carpet. I’m crying because this is the second, no, third anxiety attack I’ve had in a…

On the Rare Mornings I Feel Too Much

On the rare mornings I feel too much, my heart slams itself against my trachea and the world nestles hard on my esophagus. It is not unlike a hummingbird flinging itself against a still, sharp, rain-washed window. On the rare mornings I feel too much, my breathing collapses upon itself, repeatedly, like someone squeezing my…