trust in the storm

It’s been tempting not to write a post this week because so much happened in the last week that has given me major anxiety, and normally I would allow myself to just rest. But then I remembered how writing for me is rest. Processing my life through words is one of the most restful activities for me. And I’ve also set a goal for myself to post something every Monday, whether or not it’s perfect or “finished” by my own definition, so this is me holding myself accountable at the same time as sharing my life with you.

This past week we moved into our new apartment, the home I have been dreaming of for the past month and half, envisioning our little family budding up within these walls. And the moving process wasn’t even stressful at all like I thought it was going to be eight months pregnant, thanks to the generous aid of Mitch’s and my parents and brother…no, the stress came from a different source.

A musty smell in the living room.

If you’ve read any of my posts about my health, you might know that I have had chronic health issues since living in a mold-infested apartment two years ago. So a musty smell may not be a big deal for someone else, but for me it causes PTSD. And sends me spiraling into paranoia, fear, and anxiety.

I never anticipated having to deal with this again. This was the exact thing I wanted to avoid in the space where not only we are living but going to be raising a baby–a vulnerable, fragile being who definitely requires a non-toxic environment. To be honest, the fear was absolutely paralyzing for the first few days here and I felt my whole inner world crumbling to pieces.

Sometimes, no matter how hard we try to avoid the things that have caused us immense pain and suffering in the past, they come back to haunt us. What do we do when this happens? How do we respond to these situations–to God?

I think my immediate response is anger and entitlement. I should not have to deal with this again. I have been through so much with my health; this is absolutely unacceptable. But the anger quickly dissipates into fear and I begin to question everything: I’m already so immunocompromised, how will I survive another exposure? How will this affect my baby? How will we ever afford remediation if it comes to that, God forbid it’s so toxic we have to move out and leave all our stuff behind?

The questions of why and how consume me. I’m thrust back into the dark and chaotic mental place where everything is up in the air and I don’t know where the ground is. My anxiety feeds my physical bodily responses, and I become an ultra-hypochondriac, wondering if my symptoms are related to mold in our apartment or if my own deteriorating psychological state is causing them at this point (most likely the latter). I don’t want to be back here, never thought I’d be back here. Especially now of all times, when the stakes feel so high as we are about to start our new family. Why would God allow this to happen again?

But as I am questioning and doubting and fearing, something inside of me is small and still and reassured. Someone is whispering to my soul that it’s all going to be okay. That even if the worst scenario happens and there is toxic mold in our apartment and we have to leave and get rid of all of our stuff–we will be okay. And I know this peace can only come from the Lord, because it is certainly not originating from me.

We will find out if we have mold in our apartment next week, and until then I am choosing to trust God through my fears. He knows what is best for me and my family, and He will take care of us.

Whatever fear and anxieties are consuming you, God knows what you are dealing with. Trust Him in the storm, not only once it’s over. He will come through for you, even if it’s not the way you wanted or planned.