Abundant Life: How Eleanor Roosevelt Helped Form My Approach to Anxiety

I was three months shy and yet an eternity away from my 25th birthday when I found myself sitting in a chair similar to one you’d sit in at the dentist. This chair, though, is at a psychiatric office and the dentist was one of the last things on my mind. I was there to receive Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) Therapy. The impending pain inflicted by the treatment itself did not scare me. If I had anything to fear, it was that the treatment wouldn’t work and I’d be back where I started: searching for relief from major depression and the constant emotional pain of severe anxiety (which was so great at that point that I felt it physically all the time). The fact that I was even sitting in this chair meant that evidence had been submitted to my insurance and they had accepted that 3-5 different prescription drugs had been unsuccessful for me and so I was already in a sensitive place in terms of my optimism towards recovery - and that’s putting it politely. I was very ready to give in to complete and utter discouragement and despair yet I still looked around at everyone who loved and supported me and made myself cling to their hope for me when I couldn’t find any within myself.

I sat in that chair every single day for about 3 weeks receiving treatment for about 30 minutes. Sometimes a nurse would sit down with me and we’d converse; other times I was left to myself with music playing softly in the background. Every time I sat in that chair, my eyes would inevitably wander over to the door and rest on a little poster there which featured a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt. Oh, how her words made me cringe: “You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” Now, I dream big. So every single time my eyes rested on that quote, I pictured myself in an airplane. There was no destination in this mental image; there was simply the reminder that the idea of flying has long been terrifying to me and - to this day - I’ve never been in an airplane and I have no idea how to do airports. (One of my goals with this blog is to write a post about the first time I go flying.) This mental imagine scared me even more because - please understand - I’m still sitting in that dentist chair in a psychiatric office receiving treatment for mental illness. The path from that chair to the airplane was hidden underneath everything imaginable on an overgrown, neglected path. I had tried so hard to bring the past into my future but it left me with a life path that would be impossible to navigate. Now I was slowly realizing that the past belongs in the past but each traveler is allowed a backpack of tools they’ve picked up as they’ve traveled their life’s road to help them figure out each step, navigate the obstacles and ultimately reach the final destination.

The path from the chair to the airplane remained quite overgrown for some time. I finished the TMS treatment (unfortunately, it did little for me) and simultaneously began Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) with my favorite of the 7 different therapists that I had in a two year timespan (friends, therapy is hard. But it’s also very worth all the hard work, especially if you have a great relationship with your therapist. Please don’t be afraid to try several different therapists to find the best fit for you. It made a world of difference for me and that’s my prayer for you). Those months of CBT were a game changer for me. Slowly, slowly, I recognized many of these negative thoughts in my mind that I believed, wrote them down and acknowledged where they were coming from. Then I reframed those same thoughts into truths by indentifying them with core beliefs about myself. Little by little, that old, neglected path was pruned. It was painful. It was freeing. It was exciting. It was an adventure in my own head and it was healthy and amazing. And I had someone walking with me every step of the way, holding my hand tightly in support.

In many ways, I have reached that airplane. I got up from that chair and I got a new job where I am happier than I could have hoped I’d be (a prospect that seemed impossible from that chair). I took a small risk by spending some money on a concert ticket - long story short, we ended up receiving a free upgrade to the orchestra pit at that Pentatonix concert and I enjoyed every moment of it (I would not have had the freedom to allow myself the pleasure of that ticket before sitting in that chair). I even rediscovered my love of music, the joy it gives people, and my ability to be an instrument of that joy. Sitting in that chair, I could not have fathomed any of this. Then, I couldn’t see the future: even tomorrow was in the dark. But I am a child of the Light. (See what I did there? That was CBT.) I still struggle with moments of “What’s the point?” - I think we all do. The point is that our God is the God of abundance and we can choose to embrace the struggle or we can give in to despair. Because I sat in that chair, I am no longer afraid to let myself flourish. You must do the thing you think you cannot do, then come back and tell me it was worth it for the strength, courage, and confidence gained through the experience.

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