Anxiety and Being Me

The responses I get when I tell people that I earned an undergrad degree in accounting and am now pursuing a master's in mental health counseling can be pretty interesting. Typical reactions range from the taken aback - "Wait, what?" - to the surprised and yet enthusiastic (or maybe sarcastic) - "Wow! How's that working out for you?" - to the confused - "Aren't those...like... polar opposites?" I truly get a kick out of the perplexed smiles and confused, ruffled eyebrows. I find these respnses funny because I don't question the decision I made to change my life's direction. I am living out two of my greatest passions: to learn about things that matter and serve people in need.

When I first began toying with the idea of quitting my full time job to go back to school, I had some legitimate concerns. I mean, to have stable employment in the current economy could be considered a blessing. And if you know me, you understand that moving from a state of perceived control to state of uncertainty wells up all kinds of crazy anxiety. Yet, I knew accounting would never be fulfilling for me. So I took a small step, gave up my full time job, took on two part time jobs, and started classes full time.

Being that I experienced a significant amount of anxiety at the start of my undergraduate studies, I wondered how I would fair in the graduate realm. I can remember the pain of my freshman year of college all too clearly. Every morning I would wake up with a pit in my stomach, fear in my chest, and what seemed like a mountain of work to accomplish sitting under my lofted bed. At anxiety's peak, I petitioned God to end my life - I was unwilling to do it myself. I can remember one night specifically, probably in September or October of 2003, when I was driving back to Huntington from Van Wert. I had left at dusk, and as the sun set across highway 30, I prayed that God would send a semi-truck through the median. Make it quick. I couldn't bear another week of this constant weight hanging around my neck.

Luckily, an upper-classman friend at Huntington, who I also knew from high school, took the time to listen to my nervous rants. On an everyother day basis she would check in with me. If I was freaking out, she would meet me down in Wright Hall lounge so that I could unload my thoughts. Sometimes taking this time to decompress was difficult because I knew my assignments weren't getting any closer to being done. Yet, I regularly found myself sitting in that big red lounge chair, dirty from years of spills and general abuse, staring at the ceiling, unsure of how to move forward.

Gradually, with the help of some anti-anxiety meds, I was able to get my head above water. I got more involved in extra-curricular events and started staying up later to hang out with guys in my hall. I found a couple of guys who were willing to mentor me, in an informal sort of way. Whenever I would start to get panicky, I would go study in their rooms. I found that simply being in the presence of others worked to remind me that, while existentially alone, I could choose community. There's a lot more I could say about my college years and experiences with anxiety, but I'll leave it at this: talking through my problems and being in community (along with the ever-so-calming SSRI) may have been the keys to keeping me from diving off the deep end.

So back to the present day. I am still an anxious person. I still struggle with finding a balance in my studies (I have taken an hour break to write this, so that's got to be a good sign, right?!). Yet, I feel at home in the field of counseling. I know the impact that a listening, and somewhat objective, ear can have on a person's life. I had a former business professor ask me not too long ago what I was thinking when I didn't go into the business world, as I graduated at the top of my class. When I explained the turmoil I experienced throughout my early college years, the confusion and pain he never saw in me throughout our many classes together, he said, "I get it now. It makes perfect sense that you would want to meet people in that specific need. A need you know all too well."

So, here I am, working to find my niche in a new field. Dr. Davis, the head of my program, gave me some good advice yesterday while watching a counseling session I led. He told me,"You've got some real people pleasing in you. You take any idea I give you and try to implement it... immediately. We're going to have to work on that a bit." I responded, "I want to be the best counselor out there. I don't know if I understand how to tame that. I'm always looking to the next assignment, never valuing my past successes." His follow-up hit me deep in the chest, "Drew, you don't need to be the best counselor. You need to be you. You are going to be good at this if you can learn to trust the process."

So that's my next step. To be myself. I'm kind of in the process of learning what that means. I've got a lot of insufficiencies burried within, which become appearant in my thoughts and actions. But I'm working to bring those more clearly to the fore-ground. I'm trying to reorient my life in way that pursues God and serves others. This is what I know: I don't have to be the best. I don't have to be someone I'm not. I need to find myself and bring that to the table. I need to contribute to the story of God's redemptive healing.

Grace and Peace,
Drew