I created this blog as a way “to be Frank.” (That is, to be like St. Francis.)

Of the many traits that I appreciate of what I have learned of Francesco’s life is that he chose living simply, at being that instrument of peace, and in finding God in creation–whether it be in Brother Sun or Sister Moon.

To be honest, I’ve been struggling lately to find God anywhere. Part of me is longing for him, but I have been drowning in a flood that has made it very hard for me to seek out anything but a way to stay afloat.

For most of my memory, I have lived with some form of anxiety. Years ago I was diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder, and I’ve sought counseling on-and-off throughout the past twenty-plus years. I’ve struggled with social anxiety, and especially struggle with confrontation, even in the mildest and most non-challenging ways. It’s led me to make some very poor decisions, to run, to hide, to lie, all in order to not fail others, to not “be” the failure I secretly “know” I am.

At times, I have had to take medicine to help counteract my anxiety. And, while some seemed helpful for a period, most came with side effects that really bothered me, and eventually, each one would seem ineffective and I’d stop using them.

I experience a level of unnatural (I believe) anxiety throughout every day. There is always a “what if,” or a “I MUST do this,” or a “I have to fix that or someone will discover I’ve failed,” type of conversation running through my mind. I end most days fully and utterly mentally exhausted, and on the worst days, my mind won’t stop for rest. It’s a constant weight, and can become rather debilitating at times.

I don’t really recall when I began dealing with this. I was sick as a young child, and then was diagnosed with a chronic illness at age ten. I know those things played factors on how I viewed life, and I believe how I was reared also played a factor. But, as time has gone on, and the symptoms and mindset have darkened and deepened, I am recognizing more and more that it’s more than environmental. It’s simply mental.

Over the past few weeks, those mindsets have grown pretty dark, and anxiety has led me to make some pretty bad choices. I’ve hurt relationships of people around me, I’ve struggled to stay physically healthy, and my personal isolation has gotten pretty bad.

All this came to a crisis point a few days ago, and the negative thoughts, poor choices, emotions, and all, became a FLOOD in my mind. Things were overlapping and piling onto each other. Thoughts weren’t clear. Though I’m never outwardly expressive of my emotions, I couldn’t keep most of them in. I got so bad as to consider some type of mental health crisis intervention. Had it not been for some family support system, I think that’s where I would have wound up.

I say that to say this…

Francis’ prayer said, “Make me an instrument of peace…Where there is injury, [let me sow] pardon…”

I think one reason I so desire to be an instrument of peace in my own life is because, in reality and below the surface, there is little peace. I seem to be able to “sow” peace on others’ soil, but hit hard clay and thorn bushes when trying to plant within my own.

When sharing some of my internal thoughts while dealing with this latest “flood,” I shared with some close connections that, while I have never been one who contemplates suicide, I have often had the thought, “their (family and friends) lives would be much easier if I wasn’t here messing things up and failing all the time.”

While there is a distinction, I also recognize the fine, blurry line that passes between those thoughts and thoughts of ending life.

I’ve spent a lot of time recently reflecting on the “injuries” I’ve caused. I’ve caused them for people I love, but also I’ve caused them for myself.

But as I write, I also feel that I need to recognize another “injury” that has been done to me not just by me. That comes in recognizing that my anxiety and mental struggles were not created by me. Having them is not my fault. I did not cause this to be a part of who I am. Yes, how I deal with it becomes my responsibility. But I also need to learn that these “injuries” don’t have to become weight that I carry in my mind.

I don’t exactly know what exactly “injured” me. Was it a childhood experience that I’ve long since forgotten or blocked from my mind? Was it environmental, that is, how I was parented, taught, raised? Is it a chemical imbalance in my brain? I just don’t know all those answers. I think a bit of all of them, perhaps. I tend to show key markers for all of those factors playing into who I am today.

What I do know is that I would not choose this. I do not wish to live in constant states of anxiety, fear, and always waiting for the next crisis.

And I am coming to terms with the idea that perhaps the “pardon” will come through better understanding, through discovering more roots to these issues, and to learning that I can love myself despite my mental illness.

I’m on a new medicine after this last round of “flooding.” I hope it–along with counseling and new practices in my routine–can help me find ways to pardon not only myself, but to find pardon shown to me by God, by family, and friends.