I see you, mama. You’re the one sitting alone at the family party. You’re the one hovering a little too close to your sweet babies at the park. You’re the one standing in the bathroom at work for just a moment of quiet. Your thoughts are swirling constantly, faster and more fearful that a “regular” mama. You find yourself spaced out at times, and hyper aware at others. You’ve heard the words “just relax” and “everything is fine” more times than you care to count. Sometimes you wish you could make everyone understand why you are the way you are all while knowing you would never wish this on anyone. Your soul is anxious and you are so tired.
I feel for you, mama. You’re the mama who wakes up in the middle of the night to grab a quick drink, only to be unable to close her eyes again until the sun comes up. You’re plagued by thoughts of mistakes in your past and uncertainty in your future. Every move you make as a mom, wife, person is gone over a million times in your head. You wonder what you’re doing right, if anything. You wonder what you could do better. You wonder why this life seems so easy for others but it’s so overwhelming for you.
I know you, mama. I’ve held your hand and rubbed your back through the anxiety attacks. I’ve been on the receiving end of messages typed in pure panic. I’ve watched you; at the grocery store, family dinners, and trips to the park. I’ve seen the fear flash across your face when someone gets too close to your babies. I’ve witnessed your knuckles turn white when you grab the cart or your child’s arm a little tighter to keep them close. I’ve almost read your thoughts, the ones that tell you everyone out there is out to hurt them. I’ve also seen the guilt when you’ve turned down an invitation out because your anxious heart just can’t handle it right now. I’ve seen the frustration with this world for being so terrifying, but also with yourself for allowing it to limit you so much.
I am you, mama. I’m the mama who lies awake. I’m the mama who questions even the sweetest of little old ladies at the grocery store, when all they want to do is compliment my children. I’m the mama whose heart beats a little faster at the thought of certain outings. I’m the mama who hides in the bathroom because I’m certain the world is trying to crush me at times. I’m the mama who sends panicked messages over every little thing. I’m the mama who cringes when someone tells me to relax, wanting to scream back at them, “DON’T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH BAD THERE IS OUT THERE?!”
I am the mama with an anxious soul.
I’m also the mama who’s trying to regain control. I’m the mama looking for a better way, because you cannot tell me there isn’t a better way.
“This is what the Lord says to you: ‘Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God’s.’” 2 Chronicles 20:15
This vast army of anxiety that you’re fighting, mama, you are not fighting it alone. I am fighting with you. Your loved ones are fighting with you. Most importantly, the Lord is fighting with you. Your battles are his battles. The enemy will try to tell you otherwise as it tries to bury yourself in your heart and soul, but do not believe it mama. You may be the mama with an anxious soul, but together we can fight to quell the waters you’re facing. You are precious, you are worthy, and you are priceless. You’ve got this.