You Don’t Own Me.

To the depression that tells me there’s no reason to get up this morning; to the unwanted thought that lies to me and tries to convince me I am ruined; to the panic attack that attempts to ruin my day and put a halt to my plans; to the anxiety that does everything in its power to rule my life and render me powerless:

You don’t own me.

I used to wear you like a badge of honor, you know. You were my identity. Everything in my life revolved around you and making sure people knew the depth of the struggles I was going through. I didn’t see it back then as a plea for attention. In fact, I still wouldn’t call it that. But you were a crutch for me.

You gave me reasons to stop trying on the days that I just really didn’t feel up to the challenge. If I woke up feeling nothing but the hollow grayness that threatened to swallow me whole, I spent the rest of my day avoiding the world and all my responsibilities. If I found myself in the middle of a panic attack, I latched onto any person who would listen and did my best to keep them at my side.  If my thoughts spiraled out of control and made my mind all twisted up, I told myself that the fight was hopeless and so I might as well just quit trying.

I think at the end of the day, I loved you because indulging in you meant that I was allowed to feel anything I wanted to and I didn’t need to put in the effort to fight it. Really, a lot of it came down to this desire I had for control, and believing my feelings above the Truth.

You see, if I decided I was going to fight you, it would mean that I’d have to get up each morning and do the thing that I didn’t want to do. I would have to do the hard work of turning my focus outward rather than inward. I would have to trust in the guidance of others, and, ultimately, rely on the words of a God who I wasn’t even sure would heal me. I would have to surrender to something greater than myself for healing, and that was a scary concept.

So I kept you around for a good, long while, until the day came when I couldn’t take the pain you were causing anymore. I sunk to such a low; I was terrified of myself and who I might become if this thing didn’t stop.

So, I surrendered.

I did not surrender to you, though, as much as you would have liked to see that happen. I surrendered to the Truth and the Freedom found in knowing that if Christ conquered sin and death, He also conquered you. I surrendered to the knowledge that He desired for me to have life, and live it abundantly. I surrendered to the promise that because I believed, I was able to walk in the Spirit He had given me: the Spirit of power, of love, and of a sound mind.

And I began to heal.

Today, I woke up feeling like I could not do anything. My body hurt and my emotions didn’t feel much better. But I chose to remember who I am, and Whose I am. I got up, I did the thing I didn’t want to do. I lived my day in thankfulness to a God who saved me. I gave words of life to a few people, and I even cleaned my apartment.

Because hey, you don’t own me.