Huge Fear Finally Faced, and the Aftermath

I've never struggled with clinical anxiety at all, not like I do now, until the fall of 2011.  All at once I fell apart and have been struggling just to feel safe, calm, and happy ever since.  What was the event?  For the first time in my life I was honest with another person about my own feelings, and told about a dark even in my life, of which I'd convinced others and myself that I was fine.  Vulnerability did me in.  With the help of the spirit, Heavenly Father, my Savior, therapists, group therapy, and dear friends, I've come a very long way.  First I learned to say a few words to one person, then a few words to two people, and then a few more words to those few people, and within a year I was growing more and more able to be real and myself with many people in many situations, even in the midst of immense physical anxiety symptoms and its accompanying depression.  Eventually I learned to let God back in, and believe He really can help me too, and possibly didn't abandon me.

So what are my fears?  Today we were asked to write them down in Relief Society.  Many are still the same today as they were before:

I'm not good enough to be loved/I'm unlovable.
I'm not good enough for God and His ability to bless my life.
I will always be alone.
I will always be replaced by someone better.
Everyone always leaves me.
I'm just meant to help others but not worth help and love in return.
I sucked at life and wasted time in school (just graduated) and don't have anything of actual worth to show for it.
I'll never have a family who loves me unconditionally, nor do I deserve one.
I'll always be a disappointment to those I love.
I'll lose myself if I get into a relationship.
I'll be afraid and hurt and scared and faithless for the rest of my life.

Thus, again, I'm unlovable.

Throughout my course of therapy, I have tried to believe that my family possibly is more available to me than I had suspected, and maybe it was just me who was just too afraid to reach out, and that my walls were too high and too thick.  I have often told myself, "One day we can have close relationships, when I learn to practice vulnerability and honesty with them.  We're not close because of ME.  So there's a chance."  I've held on to that all this time.  All this time.

To make a very long story short, I've tried it out with each sibling.  I've tried reaching out, being real, showing my weaknesses and being honest with what hurts.  And each one has shown me they are unable to be what I want and need.  One sister in particular is one of whom I have always looked up to and whose words have always meant the most to me, almost as a Mother figure, as my own mom has been sick and emotionally unavailable for 10 years.  Over the past two weeks, I have made the most of an attempt one could make in my shoes, and I was harshly shot down, with words that stung.  We were both completely open and honest, and I found out what she really thinks of me.  Apparently, my "irrational assumptions and fears," of all these years, were actually real.

They were real.

She was my last option of someone I could really talk to, who I thought would take time to understand me AND respect me AND provide support without becoming a codependent relationship.  Instead I was insulted in every possible way, and she refused to listen before deciding and declaring what kind of person she thought I was.

At first I was hurt because, well, her words hurt.  Deep.  The pain has lasted a few weeks, but I feel I've "endured it well."  However, a cool thing also happened here that is worth mentioning.  Just this:

I faced one of my greatest fears of all time - rejection from the family member whose opinion of things and opinion of me I care about the most - and I survived it.  I realized it was time to let her opinion go, and move forward caring more about opinions who actually matter.  That of God's, and my own.  Was I successful? - That is debatable, and I would probably argue "unsuccessful."  I'd read scriptures, I'd asked my visiting teacher and home teachers to pray for me that I'd have peace of this matter specifically, I'd read great conference talks, I'd pleaded on my knees, I attended the temple, and I reached out to those I trust.  I believe I did all I could do.

A few days ago, the day after I went to the temple, the tender mercy arrived.  This very sister suddenly texted me a compliment and then an apology.  I felt it was an answer to prayer, and thanked the Lord for impressing her to text me, and for her ability to listen to the spirit.  I responded with honesty once again, and kept the ball in my court.  I explained to her this:  I'm still hurt a great deal, but I understand I can't control her, and it is my job to find my own resolution with the help of the Lord, and to find a way to trust His opinions of me instead of hers, and that eventually with time He would heal my heart and I'd be able to let it go.  I thanked her for her apology, and that was it.  She still never took anything back that she said.  This response gave me the resolution I needed.  I acknowledged to myself and to her that I can't control her opinion, and that's gonna have to be okay.  But I wasn't ready for what was to follow next.

You see, I let her go.  All these years I'd held on to the possibility of being close to her, and now all at once, all of a sudden, I have had to let go of that hope.  Some things don't work out, and being close to any single member of my family, the closeness that I crave and need and expected might happen, will never happen.

Our relationships will have to remain more distant emotionally, at least I don't see how they could change any time soon at this point.  I've tried, and you know what?  Good for me.  I took the risk.  I made an effort.  Now I don't have to live in "maybe land" anymore, because now I know and can move forward.  But this means a terrible, terrible truth that has sunk it's way deep into the sorest spot of my heart.  I feel like she died.  The image I had of what we could be is no more.  I feel as if I've lost someone of immense importance, like when I lost my mom to mental illness, all over again.  Like when anyone else in my life left and didn't miss me.  I feel like she was my last possible option of what the word "family" could really mean, and now I have to face a huge empty hole of nothingness.

Basically, I'm grieving a loss and I'm in the first of 5 steps of the grieving process, and that's gonna have to also be okay.  I can't seem to stop crying.  I don't know how to mend this wound.  I don't know how I can go on and find joy.  If I wasn't good enough for my family, who are good people solid in the gospel, then how could I be enough for anyone else?  Where are God's promises and why aren't they being kept?  I'm doing my part.  When does it get better??  When do I get to be happy?  Why so much heartache???  I can't handle anymore of this!  (dude check out the anxiety thinking - "black and white thinking" - all over that paragraph)

I've been sobbing at nights and last night I felt too defeated to kneel and as I lay in my bed crying, I asked God, "If you love me, why ____?  And if you love me, why ____?  Do you really love me?  Then why ______?..."  It was mostly just that.  I went to sleep feeling ashamed for asking such questions, but I had nothing else.  I expected Godly reprimand.  But as Elder Wirthlin said, "Sunday will come."  And mine did.

Church today was everything and everything and everything and more of what I needed to hear.  A direct answer to my defeated questioning, "Do you love me?"  One could not mistake how aware the Lord is of me today.  We had fast and testimony meeting, and I've never heard a meeting revolve around the principle of "families" so much as today.  Everyone wanted to echo the bearer of testimony before him, to talk about the power and strength of family.  Yes it hurt, but even more, it told me something important - the Lord knows what is hurting me, and that He understands.  He isn't mad, He isn't interested in scolding me, and He isn't disappointed in me.  Just that He knows, He understands, He knows it hurts and He feels it too, and it's okay.  Sunday school was about adversity and trials and how to get through.  Relief Society was all about Faith vs. Fear.  Yep, I know, right?  And that was A GOOD lesson.  One discussion felt so much like group therapy, and I almost raised my hand to share, but was too afraid of crying, so I didn't.  Next time.  Then there was choir practice, and I'm the choir director.  We perform next week, and the whole song came together beautifully today for the first time.  We even left early because it sounded so good.

I still hurt so much, my anxiety is rising (though still manageable for now), and I'm battling Satan in my head like crazy.  I'm running out of energy to fight his lies anymore.  I still don't know what to do at this point for my pain, except cry.  And pray, and read, and reach out, but mostly just cry.  I'm not brave enough to reach out in the midst of the tears, at least not in person.  But I do know that the Lord is here, I know He cares, I know He loves me, and that He wants me to be happy.  For now, that is good enough.  Thanks for listening.