I have so much I want to tell you, but I think I’d better start from the beginning and share why I even felt called to begin this blog in the first place. God is doing so much in my life and I have this deep stirring in my heart to vulnerably share my story, despite my fears in doing so.

Hello, my name is Skyler, and I have anxiety.

Even as I’m typing these words, my heart is racing and Satan is trying to talk me out of this. I’m not gonna lie, it’s super scary to be this honest with you. But I know there is power and purpose in my testimony, so I desperately desire to be real and raw with you.

My mental health journey started about four years ago. We were still living in South Dakota and our daughter, Saydie, was about six months old. Life circumstances were super overwhelming, my best friend had just moved away, our church life was devastating, and I was fighting a lot of insecurity issues because of a hurtful betrayal from my next-door neighbor. Life was swirling around me, and I truly didn’t understand just how much I was struggling until it was too late.

I ended up in the ER for vertigo and rapid heart rate.
And I was fully convinced I was dying.

I had no idea how to process what was going on with me. They ran SO many tests on me, took x-rays, took my blood, and then took it again. And found… absolutely nothing wrong.

I was fine. I was healthy. And I was sent on my way.

I should have left that hospital relieved, but I didn’t. I felt more uneasy than I did going in. I was sure they had missed something. I was sure there was something very, very wrong. I could not shake the feeling that I was, in fact, NOT okay.

Fast forward a few days of not sleeping, hardly eating, and refusing to even step foot outside our house, and my sweet, sweet husband (God bless him) literally shoved me in the car and drove me to the on-base clinic. Again, blood was drawn and tests were run, and again, they all came back perfect.

But then came one last test. A depression and anxiety evaluation.
The results were overwhelming.
Anxiety: 19/20
Depression: 18/20

Staring at that paper, I had my first official mental breakdown. Right there in my doctor’s office, I bawled my freaking little eyes out. Quite honestly, putting myself back in this memory is making me feel nauseous. The lightheadedness I felt at that moment was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I could no longer deny that I had a problem. I could no longer push my feelings under the rug or blame my symptoms on being a new mom or a lack of sleep.

No, no. I needed help.

But as quickly as that realization came, so did my denial as the doctor brought up the topic of medication.

NO. NO. No way. I don’t need that. I’m fine. I can do this on my own. I ain’t taking that.
Sam, let’s get out of here!

Oh, how fast I believed the lie that medication was sinful. Not necessary. A crutch.
LIES LIES LIES. ALL LIES.

But taking meds was the absolute LAST thing I wanted to do. So I filled the prescription bottle, went home and laid it on the counter, and told myself that I was never going to pick it up again.

Oh, praise God for His grace. I am so stinking humbled by how Sam held me through this because my faithful Father used his embrace to speak truth over me. And the truth was, I wasn’t a failure. I wasn’t a disappointment. This wasn’t a punishment. It was totally and completely okay for me to not be okay.
And the biggest truth that God whispered to me in this? I was still His, and He was still mine.

My need for medication was NOT something to be ashamed of. It was not a lack of faith or trust in God. It was not a weakness. It was just a part of the process. And it was okay for it to be a part of my story.

Fast forward and praise be to God, after 18 months of daily medication, I was able to ween off my dosage and I’ve been med-free ever since. I’m so grateful for the great growth that has happened these last three years. I have learned so much about myself, how my body works, and what I need to do to take better care of me. And although there have been some pretty hard stretches, God has faithfully carried me through each one. He is so so stinking good.

But as thankful as I am that my medication was only a short chapter of my story, I am eternally grateful for it. I believe with all my heart that my medicine is what got me to the point of hearing God clearly and making the changes necessary to become a better me. And there will never be a day that I don’t thank Him for the healing he provided while I was taking those little white pills.

I sit here today and I’m truly overflowing with gratitude because, for the first time in a long time, I love who I am. I have peace, joy, courage, and confidence that I’ve never had. And although I’m still walking through this valley, I know I’m close to my victory. I can feel it. His hope is within me. God is here, and He is faithful. My journey isn’t over, but I’m getting stronger every single day, and I love what He’s doing here.

And to anyone who may be walking this valley as well, I need you to know there IS hope. You are NOT alone. There is NOTHING wrong with you. And I promise you can get through this.

I know this is such a dark season to walk through. I know there are days (and weeks, and months) that are so hard and the lies are so loud you can hardly make it out of bed. But I am living proof that God truly does work all things for His glory and our good. I beg you to keep fighting the good fight. No matter what your battle looks like, no matter what you have to do, no matter what anyone else says, pretty please keep going. I know it may seem hopeless now, but you are a conqueror, and you can do hard things. Believe it.

---