Hello friends! I want to share my testimony, so sit back and hear (or rather read) what God has done for me! And what he can do for you too!
It all started during my sophomore year of high school. I was placed in geometry, and was struggling to keep up with my class. One thing you should know about me is that I’m really, and I mean really bad at math- but this really was my Goliath. I was behind and my grades were slipping, so, I decided I’d study on my own. And that was a bust, How could I teach myself if I didn’t even understand the subject. I don’t like asking other people for help but I swallowed my pride and asked my math teacher and friends for help.
This also did not work, so not only were my grades a mess but I couldn’t do anything about it! I got so frustrated with my class and myself- I just felt so stupid. What’s worse, I over-stressed myself and developed peptic ulcers. Don’t look it up, not a pretty sight. Didn’t feel pretty either. I got better but started to realize that I suddenly got very nauseous at school but would feel better by the time I got home. This feeling grew and grew, and I found myself spending less time in class and more time in the bathroom stalls while I waited for my mom to pick me up.
Cut to the beginning junior year, when I made the fatal mistake of drinking school apple juice. Suddenly I got the worse acid reflux and almost threw it right back up. At school. In class. No body noticed, but in my head- I was already panicked and humiliated. This was when the constant worries of throwing up in school started, which lead to my diagnosis of anxiety. Not sure how to explain anxiety to someone who has never experienced it, God bless you, but to sum it up in a couple of words: Fear, dread, having trouble breathing, chest pressure, chest pains, constantly worrying in my mind, panic attacks and crying.
I was irrationally worrying about throwing up in class or on the bus or in the cafeteria; it got to the point where I’d start panicking the moment I stepped foot in any class room or even on campus grounds. Once again, I spent a lot of my time crying in the bathroom stalls while I waited for my mom to pick me up. I also became very food conscious, I wouldn’t eat certain foods for fear it would make me nauseous or throw up. (I’d make up wild assumptions in my mind- like I couldn’t drink milk in the morning or at school because some famous singer threw up on stage one time, in front of millions of fans, after they drank -I think- milk. Crazy.).
I was terrified and getting worse. I just wanted to calm down, get better. When I went to the doctors, they already knew about my anxiety and ADHD diagnosis (Now we know why I’m terrible at math) and decided to start helping me by treating ADHD. They told me that my ADHD was the problem, that’s why I was having anxiety. So, I gave it a go and it did not work out. At all.
You see, the medication that they gave me made me focus more. This would have worked out great, if I didn’t have anxiety; I was more aware of my surroundings and the fear I was already feeling increased- if that’s even possible. I decided to stop all medication- my doctors weren’t listening to me at all and I was very anxious about fixing this quickly, you see, some time had passed and I had missed a lot of class, my grades were slipping and I was scared of failing.
My last resort was to bring my problem to the school- they always go on and on about mental awareness and telling a teacher about what you’re going through right? So, my mom scheduled a parent-teacher conference with all my teachers to explain what was going on and I was going to tell my close group of friends, at the time, that I had anxiety. Sure, I was nervous and scared but it was better than nothing. I had to try.
And I did, -I can’t remember which went first, but basically- i told my close group of friends after English class- I was going to transfer out of that class and go online for that period, so they’d ask what was going on anyways. Maybe I’ve watched too many sappy after-school specials because I didn’t get hugged and supported, I got laughed at and called over-dramatic. The teacher conference was also a flop; we went in and my mom explained everything- tearfully- and I got to explain some stuff too.
There was only one teacher who really helped me and I’m thankful I had her as a confidant. I dont blame my other six teachers for not really doing anything- they just stared at me like I had just coughed during a pandemic or something- you can’t really fix what you don’t understand yourself. That’s why I don’t hate my family for not helping me or my friends for laughing at me.
Some time had passed, and I was definitely agoraphobic. I just didn’t want to go anywhere, I didn’t want to go out because it was risky- what if I threw up while shopping with my mom? What if I threw up in the car and someone from school saw me? Or anyone in general! And for the first time, in a long time, I hadn’t given up hope but I was starting to.
I was very bitter; with everyone, school, God and myself. I never tried to think of it and never even said it but I was so hurt by what God had done to me. I thought he had done this on purpose because I believed for a long time that I wasn’t good enough, God didn’t love me. This was my punishment. This was all my fault, I’m this way and I’m making myself unhappy. I was very upset with my life and the way things were going for myself.
Around this time, one morning, my mom told me that a pastor she listens to or knew told her that something amazing would happen to me. I didn’t believe her- I mean I still hoped, I knew miracles did happen, just not for me. The turning point was when my mom told me that If I kept going on like this, I’d end up in online school or just taking the G.E.D. This, this is what REALLY hurt me. On top of everything that was going on, this was it. The cherry on top. I never liked school, but I realized that I loved learning. I loved hanging out with my friends. And I was going to lose all of that because anxiety had gotten the best of me.
There was nothing I alone could do to save myself. One night, before I was suppose to sleep, I got on my knees and prayed to God. I hardly prayed back then, I didn’t know what I was doing, but I really did pour my heart out and then some. I was just in tears, asking him to help me, save me from this and I’ll follow you forever. It’s weird, because I didn’t start truly walking with Christ until now, all this happened like, three maybe two years ago- I don’t know why God even listened to me.
I mean, I wasn’t right with God at all, I thought he was a punisher, I believed he didn’t love me, I sinned all the time and wouldn’t spend time with him because I was worried it would cut into my own time. And I still do this. But after I was done praying, I laid on my bed and I had this feeling in my chest, a small seed of faith inside of me. I somehow didn’t doubt, despite what I was thinking- he wouldn’t do anything, he didn’t listen to me- something told me not to doubt, everything would work out.
Next morning, I wake up and I feel happy, joy, peace. Get ready, eat breakfast, and I’m still feeling fine. My mom drives me to school, and I still feel fine. I hop out of the car, my mom drives away, I walk in and suddenly- I feel it. Like a wave, fear and dread slowly creeping on me. I stop walking, I closed my eyes and in my head, I thought something like, Jesus is my savior- and it was gone.
I walked to my science class, sat down and was in total shock. I wasn’t sure what to really do or say to God at that moment. I just sat there, in class, at peace. Finally. Do you know how silent it is when you aren’t panicking in your mind? I noticed just how quiet it is.
And God wasn’t done there, I don’t think he ever is done giving and loving, showing his mercy because remember how I mentioned I had missed a ton of class? The front office had shown me, on a piece of paper, how many days I’ve missed and it was around 60-62 days in total. I had to make all these hours up and I had only gone to detention twice, maybe three times? There’s no way I could have made up all those hours, especially when one of those times was when I was actually in trouble and was forced to go.
No way, there’s no way I did it on my own, I didn’t go. However, after I’m anxiety-free, I’m determined to not go to summer school and since I can finally sit around other people and not freak out anymore, thank you LORD, I made my way over to the front office to work on my hours. The lady at the front office sends me to some other lady’s office and I knock the door, step in and sit down. I tell her my name and she starts looking for me on her computer.
I’m mentally preparing for this lady to tell me I have many hours I need to make up, I already know what books I’m going to bring with me to detention and what work I need to get done while I’m there- and suddenly, she tells me I don’t have any hours to make up. I can’t believe it, I know for a fact I didn’t make it up but she insists, I have no hours to make up. I almost cried in front of that lady, right there and then.
And my grades? Suddenly, I had good grades in all my classes. I could brag about how i worked hard to make up for all the times I was out but there was no way everything could have been graded in time and for me to complete all the work I needed to get done if it weren’t for God. God literally did it.
What else did he do? Same year, I had to take this math test and pass it or else I wouldn’t graduate. I had taken it many times before and had failed. This time the test was after school, and I went in, praying to God, asking him to help me get through this because literally, no matter what I did, I could not pass. It was definitely in his hands now because I felt so defeated, once again, I felt so stupid. I take the test, and by the end of it, I’m thinking- I did not pass that one.
I make my way over to the office located at the library, where I was taking the test, and wait for this teacher to give me my results. I’m sitting there, defeated- she was trying to find me on her computer and mentioned how other kids who had my last name hadn’t passed. I was already accepting defeat when she told me that I passed. I just sat there, again, shocked.
Me? Passed a math test? A math test that contained all of the problems from years before that I couldn’t understand- me? She jumped up, printed out my papers, I got up in a daze. I was literally going to cry that time, tears in my eyes and my voice was shaky. I grabbed the papers from her, went to the bathroom stalls and yes, I had a little celebration party. Just me, myself and God. I even went on my knees- the dirty, nasty school bathroom floor on my jeans- and just thanked him.
I’m thankful that this happened to me. It made me realize just how much God really loves me- even when I’m wasn’t trying to get right with him- he was taking care of me. I still get anxiety from time to time, I’m battling with OCD and intrusive thoughts right now and, while it’s been really hard, I can honesty feel God through my weaknesses. Please, no matter your situation- even if it’s small and you don’t think God even cares, he does! Can I tell you that you can rely on him, because he is mighty to save! If you think he hates you like I thought he hated me, you’re wrong. He loves you more than you’ll ever know. If you’re going through a season of disbelief, a season where you don’t have hope for better things, my friend with the little faith you do have, believe and pray. God makes miracles happen!
It all started during my sophomore year of high school. I was placed in geometry, and was struggling to keep up with my class. One thing you should know about me is that I’m really, and I mean really bad at math- but this really was my Goliath. I was behind and my grades were slipping, so, I decided I’d study on my own. And that was a bust, How could I teach myself if I didn’t even understand the subject. I don’t like asking other people for help but I swallowed my pride and asked my math teacher and friends for help.
This also did not work, so not only were my grades a mess but I couldn’t do anything about it! I got so frustrated with my class and myself- I just felt so stupid. What’s worse, I over-stressed myself and developed peptic ulcers. Don’t look it up, not a pretty sight. Didn’t feel pretty either. I got better but started to realize that I suddenly got very nauseous at school but would feel better by the time I got home. This feeling grew and grew, and I found myself spending less time in class and more time in the bathroom stalls while I waited for my mom to pick me up.
Cut to the beginning junior year, when I made the fatal mistake of drinking school apple juice. Suddenly I got the worse acid reflux and almost threw it right back up. At school. In class. No body noticed, but in my head- I was already panicked and humiliated. This was when the constant worries of throwing up in school started, which lead to my diagnosis of anxiety. Not sure how to explain anxiety to someone who has never experienced it, God bless you, but to sum it up in a couple of words: Fear, dread, having trouble breathing, chest pressure, chest pains, constantly worrying in my mind, panic attacks and crying.
I was irrationally worrying about throwing up in class or on the bus or in the cafeteria; it got to the point where I’d start panicking the moment I stepped foot in any class room or even on campus grounds. Once again, I spent a lot of my time crying in the bathroom stalls while I waited for my mom to pick me up. I also became very food conscious, I wouldn’t eat certain foods for fear it would make me nauseous or throw up. (I’d make up wild assumptions in my mind- like I couldn’t drink milk in the morning or at school because some famous singer threw up on stage one time, in front of millions of fans, after they drank -I think- milk. Crazy.).
I was terrified and getting worse. I just wanted to calm down, get better. When I went to the doctors, they already knew about my anxiety and ADHD diagnosis (Now we know why I’m terrible at math) and decided to start helping me by treating ADHD. They told me that my ADHD was the problem, that’s why I was having anxiety. So, I gave it a go and it did not work out. At all.
You see, the medication that they gave me made me focus more. This would have worked out great, if I didn’t have anxiety; I was more aware of my surroundings and the fear I was already feeling increased- if that’s even possible. I decided to stop all medication- my doctors weren’t listening to me at all and I was very anxious about fixing this quickly, you see, some time had passed and I had missed a lot of class, my grades were slipping and I was scared of failing.
My last resort was to bring my problem to the school- they always go on and on about mental awareness and telling a teacher about what you’re going through right? So, my mom scheduled a parent-teacher conference with all my teachers to explain what was going on and I was going to tell my close group of friends, at the time, that I had anxiety. Sure, I was nervous and scared but it was better than nothing. I had to try.
And I did, -I can’t remember which went first, but basically- i told my close group of friends after English class- I was going to transfer out of that class and go online for that period, so they’d ask what was going on anyways. Maybe I’ve watched too many sappy after-school specials because I didn’t get hugged and supported, I got laughed at and called over-dramatic. The teacher conference was also a flop; we went in and my mom explained everything- tearfully- and I got to explain some stuff too.
There was only one teacher who really helped me and I’m thankful I had her as a confidant. I dont blame my other six teachers for not really doing anything- they just stared at me like I had just coughed during a pandemic or something- you can’t really fix what you don’t understand yourself. That’s why I don’t hate my family for not helping me or my friends for laughing at me.
Some time had passed, and I was definitely agoraphobic. I just didn’t want to go anywhere, I didn’t want to go out because it was risky- what if I threw up while shopping with my mom? What if I threw up in the car and someone from school saw me? Or anyone in general! And for the first time, in a long time, I hadn’t given up hope but I was starting to.
I was very bitter; with everyone, school, God and myself. I never tried to think of it and never even said it but I was so hurt by what God had done to me. I thought he had done this on purpose because I believed for a long time that I wasn’t good enough, God didn’t love me. This was my punishment. This was all my fault, I’m this way and I’m making myself unhappy. I was very upset with my life and the way things were going for myself.
Around this time, one morning, my mom told me that a pastor she listens to or knew told her that something amazing would happen to me. I didn’t believe her- I mean I still hoped, I knew miracles did happen, just not for me. The turning point was when my mom told me that If I kept going on like this, I’d end up in online school or just taking the G.E.D. This, this is what REALLY hurt me. On top of everything that was going on, this was it. The cherry on top. I never liked school, but I realized that I loved learning. I loved hanging out with my friends. And I was going to lose all of that because anxiety had gotten the best of me.
There was nothing I alone could do to save myself. One night, before I was suppose to sleep, I got on my knees and prayed to God. I hardly prayed back then, I didn’t know what I was doing, but I really did pour my heart out and then some. I was just in tears, asking him to help me, save me from this and I’ll follow you forever. It’s weird, because I didn’t start truly walking with Christ until now, all this happened like, three maybe two years ago- I don’t know why God even listened to me.
I mean, I wasn’t right with God at all, I thought he was a punisher, I believed he didn’t love me, I sinned all the time and wouldn’t spend time with him because I was worried it would cut into my own time. And I still do this. But after I was done praying, I laid on my bed and I had this feeling in my chest, a small seed of faith inside of me. I somehow didn’t doubt, despite what I was thinking- he wouldn’t do anything, he didn’t listen to me- something told me not to doubt, everything would work out.
Next morning, I wake up and I feel happy, joy, peace. Get ready, eat breakfast, and I’m still feeling fine. My mom drives me to school, and I still feel fine. I hop out of the car, my mom drives away, I walk in and suddenly- I feel it. Like a wave, fear and dread slowly creeping on me. I stop walking, I closed my eyes and in my head, I thought something like, Jesus is my savior- and it was gone.
I walked to my science class, sat down and was in total shock. I wasn’t sure what to really do or say to God at that moment. I just sat there, in class, at peace. Finally. Do you know how silent it is when you aren’t panicking in your mind? I noticed just how quiet it is.
And God wasn’t done there, I don’t think he ever is done giving and loving, showing his mercy because remember how I mentioned I had missed a ton of class? The front office had shown me, on a piece of paper, how many days I’ve missed and it was around 60-62 days in total. I had to make all these hours up and I had only gone to detention twice, maybe three times? There’s no way I could have made up all those hours, especially when one of those times was when I was actually in trouble and was forced to go.
No way, there’s no way I did it on my own, I didn’t go. However, after I’m anxiety-free, I’m determined to not go to summer school and since I can finally sit around other people and not freak out anymore, thank you LORD, I made my way over to the front office to work on my hours. The lady at the front office sends me to some other lady’s office and I knock the door, step in and sit down. I tell her my name and she starts looking for me on her computer.
I’m mentally preparing for this lady to tell me I have many hours I need to make up, I already know what books I’m going to bring with me to detention and what work I need to get done while I’m there- and suddenly, she tells me I don’t have any hours to make up. I can’t believe it, I know for a fact I didn’t make it up but she insists, I have no hours to make up. I almost cried in front of that lady, right there and then.
And my grades? Suddenly, I had good grades in all my classes. I could brag about how i worked hard to make up for all the times I was out but there was no way everything could have been graded in time and for me to complete all the work I needed to get done if it weren’t for God. God literally did it.
What else did he do? Same year, I had to take this math test and pass it or else I wouldn’t graduate. I had taken it many times before and had failed. This time the test was after school, and I went in, praying to God, asking him to help me get through this because literally, no matter what I did, I could not pass. It was definitely in his hands now because I felt so defeated, once again, I felt so stupid. I take the test, and by the end of it, I’m thinking- I did not pass that one.
I make my way over to the office located at the library, where I was taking the test, and wait for this teacher to give me my results. I’m sitting there, defeated- she was trying to find me on her computer and mentioned how other kids who had my last name hadn’t passed. I was already accepting defeat when she told me that I passed. I just sat there, again, shocked.
Me? Passed a math test? A math test that contained all of the problems from years before that I couldn’t understand- me? She jumped up, printed out my papers, I got up in a daze. I was literally going to cry that time, tears in my eyes and my voice was shaky. I grabbed the papers from her, went to the bathroom stalls and yes, I had a little celebration party. Just me, myself and God. I even went on my knees- the dirty, nasty school bathroom floor on my jeans- and just thanked him.
I’m thankful that this happened to me. It made me realize just how much God really loves me- even when I’m wasn’t trying to get right with him- he was taking care of me. I still get anxiety from time to time, I’m battling with OCD and intrusive thoughts right now and, while it’s been really hard, I can honesty feel God through my weaknesses. Please, no matter your situation- even if it’s small and you don’t think God even cares, he does! Can I tell you that you can rely on him, because he is mighty to save! If you think he hates you like I thought he hated me, you’re wrong. He loves you more than you’ll ever know. If you’re going through a season of disbelief, a season where you don’t have hope for better things, my friend with the little faith you do have, believe and pray. God makes miracles happen!
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