Checking In to Check Out

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One time, I thought I had some type of anxiety disorder. Always living in tomorrow, unable to focus in the present. I was paranoid at the sight of people having conversations around me. We’re they talking about me? We’re they planning my demise? All kinds of strange things going on in my thought life. For about a month, it was exhausting!

I decided to check myself into a mental hospital. I cried all night long. Before I could talk to a doctor about my experiences, they were giving me medication. Which was confusing to me because how can you medicate me if you don’t know what’s wrong with me? Scary. Very scary.

Anywho, that night as I lay in the room/dorm, I began to talk to the Father and ask for his help. I wondered how I had ended up in this place. As I lay there I continued to pray and affirm what I knew about who God says I am. I finally dosed off. The next morning, I felt like myself again. I was refreshed and ready to speak to the doctor to discuss what I thought was some sort of mental health issue.

To my surprise the conversation ended in me encouraging the doctor with his issues! Was I sent there for him? Was this orchestrated by God? All I know is I felt purpose. Throughout that day as I attended sessions, I wasn’t afraid, I wanted to stay and try to speak words of encouragement to the other patients. Before I could attend another session, the nurse called me and said it was time for me to go. I was shocked! The doctor asked me what I wanted to do, asked if I felt I needed meds, gave me a number to call if I felt I needed it and dismissed me. And that was that.

After I made it home and settled in, I felt like I had been sent on a mission. An assignment. Not for me, but for the doctor. You see, I began to talk to him about my relationship with the Holy Spirit. He was intrigued and began asking questions as if he’d never even heard of the Holy Spirit.

If he was helped, glory be to God. If I had to check into a hospital to be a light, so be it. I’m not ashamed or embarrassed at all. As a matter of fact, I have even more compassion for those who really deal with anxiety. I feel ya. Truly feel you. Maybe that part was for me.

That was two years ago. How am I today? I haven’t had any of those feelings since.

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