I just realized the last time I wrote was last June of 2020, still knee-deep in the Coronavirus pandemic.
At the time, I was in fear of "real life" coming back and pushing me back to church and into the depths of life that scared me so much. Little did I know it wouldn't be until one full year later than I would receive my vaccine and finally be protected from the coronabeast.
I wish I could have known I would have another full year of "living my best life", tucked away in the safety and security of my own home, away from the threats that plagued my life pretty much daily.
But recently, the sharks have started circling around me and I feel like I'm being pushed head-first into their feeding pool.
This past weekend (of course on a holiday weekend) we received a text from our bishop asking if we were ready to return to church because they had callings in mind for us.
It instantly got in my head and plagued the rest of my mini vacation. Can you NOT text me on a holiday please?
My first feelings were rage, and I wailed aloud, "Please leave me alone!", as if my loud outburst would magically float across time and space to the bishop who would say, "Oh, I'm sorry, never mind."
The truth is, if I can be honest, I don't want to go back to the way my life was a year and a half ago. Where I felt pressure to say yes. Where I played the part. Where I had to pretend everything was fine and great and wonderful when it wasn't. Where I went to church every Sunday, and activities and callings and meetings with a twist in my gut, anticipating and mentally preparing myself against the unexpected; against the expectations and people who may or may not come up and talk to me or ask something of me.
My husband and I were having a Sunday church discussion a few weeks ago and I was venting that I was really stressed about having to go back to church. When they announced they were opening back up to 2 hours of in-person church back in the building, it gave me a stomach ache. I could feel freedom slipping through my fingers and a weight tied around my neck pulling me under.
My husband didn't understand my deep distain for going back to in-person church.
I tried to explain to him that going back to church with social anxiety (or any anxiety for that matter) FEELS mentally the same as if there is a physical danger there. He responded, but it's all in your mind, there is no physical danger.
I said, "You're right, but imagine what it would feel like if you still felt like there was danger, even if there wasn't, and no amount of reason could change how you felt."
I continued, "Going back to church, for me, feels like I'm being thrown into the water with a school of hungry, circling sharks. There is no physical danger, but the fear is just as real as if there were. Now try enjoying church feeling like that."
I've said it before, I'll say it again, if I could have church at home the rest of my life I would. If I'm allowed to say what I wish, it would be to never have to have in-person church again with a congregation or to have to attend any of the meetings, socials or group activities.
It doesn't mean I don't have or want to keep my testimony.
It doesn't mean I don't believe in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
It means because of my social anxiety, all the good things and good feelings about the gospel are suffocated by the anxiety of having to play the part and associate with all the people and bend to all the painful expectations.
I know this is my social anxiety talking, but at the moment, I'd rather live a smaller life than fight the constant battle and worry that comes with pushing myself back into the water. It is exhausting.
- I'm not ready to go back to meeting with the bishop or counselor behind a closed door.
- I'm not ready to be putting on a happy face for all the people, when inside I'm ready to run.
- I'm not ready to act like I'm fine when I'm not.
- I'm not ready to have to dream up an excuse for why I don't want to have dinner with someone, why I can't give a talk, why I can't accept a calling, why I don't want to have the missionaries come and visit or why I don't want to open my door when someone drops by.
- I'm not ready for the mental fight and anguish within myself every single time I think about these things or step through those doors on Sunday!
I told my husband I was born into the club but it didn't mean I wanted to be.
All the hard feelings are coming back and I feel slowly like I'm suffocating under the pressure of having to go back to that life.
When people say, 'you can create and live a life you love', I have a hard time believing that because I wouldn't choose this but don't feel like I really have a choice. This is not what I love but the guilt of not doing it is worse than doing it. I don't love the role I feel I am expected to play. And it doesn't mean I don't believe the gospel teachings, it means the gospel and church life are 2 separate things for me. One is beautiful and the other is torturous.
Are you having a hard time "going back to the way things used to be?"
My counselor once told me it was ok to look at how my life was before the pandemic, and decide what I don't want back in my life. Why does it feel like I really don't have a choice?
How are you dealing with going back to in-person church? Is it harder for you than before the pandemic? I could use some insight.
