My Story of Finding God in a Nervous Breakdown

The Coffee Date That Changed Everything

I couldn’t have known that a coffee date in Indiana three years ago would be the end of my life as I knew it. No signs pointed to what was about to come. That’s sort of life, isn’t it? We make do with coping mechanisms that are unhealthy but familiar…maybe even affirmed, until they don’t work anymore. Nothing about the coffee date caused my nervous breakdown; it was truly invigorating and fun! But, less than an hour later, I crashed. Hard. Not a car crash, but my nervous system. My dear friend and GraceStory COO, Myranda, witnessed the shutdown of my tired, scared body. She held me so unjudgingly and lovingly as we "limped" toward Cincinnati. 

Body Memories from Cincinnati

Cincinnati holds many memories. Many of them are happy. Most of them are painful. It is our GraceStory “mecca,” where everything is at a centralized point. But my body has definitely “kept the score.” It knew where it was going. So much of the road there is littered with stories of my anxiety, raw, traumatic moments, and profound grief at what has been lost…even in this beautiful journey of restoration.

That evening, as I drove towards Cincinnati, my body became increasingly aware that, once again, I’d be pushing past one of my self-care boundaries meant to provide safety. I told myself I would not spend the night in a home with someone who felt unsafe. Sure, I could lock the door and make small talk, but my mind couldn’t lock out my intuitive protector parts, who were simultaneously trying to heal from years of trauma while also playing board games and chit-chat. But that night, my body said no more, and I listened. 

Instead, I curled up on a pullout couch in Myranda’s hotel room. My body shook all night as generalized anxiety pummeled my mind. My nervous system betrayed my will to “just be fine.” That weekend, we had nine GraceStory engagements planned. I cried my way to and through most of them. I just couldn’t stop shaking. My jaw chattered, hoping to get to Monday, when I’d have a counseling appointment to work out these wrinkles and move on. But when Monday finally came, I learned the “wrinkles” couldn’t be ironed out in an afternoon. 

When Muscling Through Doesn't Work Anymore

I hadn’t driven for more than a few minutes throughout the weekend. Suddenly terrified to be behind the wheel, I—who would take a road trip to Florida alone if needed or adventure with three littles and a nursing infant for hours—was unable to drive for two minutes without feeling dizzyingly blinded by a panic attack. But I knew I still had a five-hour drive to get home. I stopped by my mentor Rebecca’s home for a fortifying hug and a prayer. Then, somehow, I did it—the ticking from my EMDR anxiety app was my soundtrack the whole trip. That was my last major drive alone since March 7th, 2022. 

I was so confused about how something like this could happen. I’d always been able to muscle through with a stern talk about not letting the devil win or keep me from doing God’s will. I would “push through” and “stop at every exit if I had to keep connecting with people and inspiring hope.” But then, all of a sudden, I couldn’t. I couldn’t push through. Nor could I even start. After that trip, I got home and slept for hours and hours. I’d get up, make food, and try to school my kiddos. And then I’d sleep again once they were settled. Grocery shopping is just a 25-minute drive, but even that was too much. And making decisions about menus and what was needed to restock missing items in the fridge was too much to think through. I became overwhelmed by anything at all that required me to make a decision…and with a history of eating disorders, food decisions were the worst. I began utilizing grocery pickup because I could shop online and have my husband, Daron, pick things up after work. My ability to push through was useless. No willpower could override my body’s demand to care for myself.

My History with Dissociation

As a child of trauma, I had grown very familiar with survival by override. Dissociation from body and mind had been a lifetime coping mechanism to keep me safe in unthinkable situations. I can remember moments as a child looking down with curiosity as I felt my body shaking violently, but realizing my physical body was calm on the outside. I didn’t have words for it then, but we now know to frame that experience as disassociating. I couldn’t force or slip into that separation of mind and body this time. My mind was fully present during this crash, and my body was fully aligned with the unhinging process.

Celebrating Small Victories and Being Honest in The Process

Those days were tough, but I told the GraceStory Board I was letting myself sleep as much as I wanted for two weeks, and I’d be back. Three years later… I’m still rebuilding. I’m still celebrating the wins when it comes to driving. Like a person learning to trust their leg muscles again to walk, I am regaining trust to be alone behind the wheel.

I recently celebrated a 45-minute drive—yet even writing that leaves an uneasy feeling in my chest that I am boasting too soon. At times, this feels like abandonment by God. After all, he could heal me and let me return to HIS work, right? And yet he makes it clear that isn’t how he sees it. God builds the house. God provides for and nurtures his children in every good work and in every good thing. He created us with pleasure! And as author and finisher of our faith, it is his pleasure to complete what he’s started in us, on his timeline, for our good and his glory. 

Learning to Trust Again, Even if The End is Unclear

I miss the independence I once had. I took for granted the ability to hop in a car and just show up at a friend’s house for the weekend, hours away. I didn’t understand the privilege it was to plan something and not worry if I could follow through or if my body would suddenly “relapse.” These are current wrestlings. But I also have learned that every lesson doesn’t have a quick and tidy devotional recap. We are in process. God isn’t asking us to spiritually bypass the process to get to the inspirational quote at the end. He isn’t concerned with content for your latest book or social media posts. He is simply healing the broken relationship between humanity and himself. And he’s graciously concerned with every one of those hairs that are or aren’t still in your head as you stumble through life “figuring it out.” His patient grace shows up in our stories even when we can’t see it; I have experienced this as I still beg for healing.