Sunday, January 13, 2013

Why I Sleep In On Sundays

I have been struggling to share this for a while now.  Forgive me if it isn't very eloquent.

 














I don't actually sleep in on Sundays.  This is why.

I am LDS (or if you are unfamiliar with that term, Mormon).  If you know something about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, you may also know that everything that is done revolves around member participation.  During sacrament meeting (our church service), different members will be asked to give either the opening or closing prayer or one of the three talks (like a sermon).  We do not have a pastor who does all the speaking.  During the other two hours which consist of different classes, members are again expected to open or close with prayer and to participate in discussion.  Teachers are called to lead these classes from the general membership.  Before and after church is a time (unofficially) to catch up with those you know.  Overall, it is a very social occasion.

I suffer from horrible anxiety.  I hate being in social settings.  It is so bad that I rarely go anywhere unless my husband goes with me.  Sometimes, I have panic attacks just from thinking about going places where I will have to interact with others.  So I stay home out of fear, even if I really want to go to some event.

The irony is not lost on me that I am a member of a church that is dependent upon member participation.

One of my goals this year was to attend church every Sunday.  It's only two Sundays in and I have already failed to attend even once.

The reason I decided to write this is because of a recent encounter.  I was asked by the missionaries why they hadn't seen me in church lately.

How do you tell two young men who are serving the Lord full time that you don't go because of what is essentially a mental illness?   I have a hard time sharing this here.  To say it aloud to two young men who may not understand is almost impossible.   So, I left them feeling like they felt that I am losing my faith and that is the reason I no longer come to church.

I am not losing my faith.

The last year has seen my faith strengthened tenfold.  I have started studying my Scriptures instead of just reading them.  I have been making it a point to pray often and daily, which is something I tend to find difficult to remember to do.  I have learned so much about my faith and myself.

Yet I can't go to church.

I prepare myself to go to church.  I study the lessons being covered in classes that week.  I pray for the strength  to overcome my anxiety.  I plan out my outfit.  I do everything to make sure I have no excuse not to go.

Yet on Sunday mornings, I lay in bed, paralyzed with fear that I will have to talk to someone, be asked to give a prayer, or just sit in my seat and have people I know and truly love look at me.  On the mornings when I do get up to get ready, I often end up hyperventilating or crying because I'm so overwhelmed.  And I stay home.

Because home is where I feel safe.  Nothing bad will happen to me at home.

These experiences leave me feeling so incredibly guilty.  I feel like a failure.  Because of my anxiety, I have failed to serve well in the few callings I have been given.  Yet I know, because I have trouble being in social situations, I will have extreme difficulty serving  callings in the future.

I know I should talk to my bishop about this.  Yet I don't.  I feel like if I just prayed more, fasted, etc. etc., I could overcome this.  I'm afraid that this is the advice I would be given.  And even though, I have prayed and fasted, I still have this problem.  And that makes me feel unworthy of asking for help.  (Yeah, suffering from depression does not help my situation at all.)

I wish I had the ability to write everything that I feel.  That would take up more words than I wish to share.  I can only say now that anxiety will no longer be my secret shame.  I have no reason to feel unworthy, even though I know I will continue to struggle with those feelings.   So while I have not said everything I wished to, I hope that what I did write conveys even a little bit of what I struggle with.

This is me and a small part of my story about my struggles, not with my faith, but with anxiety.

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