Faith Through Mental Health Struggles ... Finding God in Anxiety and Uncertainty

 I’ve never liked talking about anxiety. It’s one of those things that feels embarrassing... like admitting you’re too weak to handle your own thoughts.

But the truth is, I’ve been struggling with anxiety for years. Some days it feels like a low hum in the background, a shadow that lingers just out of reach. Other days, it’s like drowning... gasping for air while everyone else seems to breathe so easily.

When I was younger, people didn’t talk about things like anxiety or depression. You just pressed on, made do, kept quiet about anything that felt messy or unfixable. Even now, I find myself wanting to hide it. To cover it up with busyness or distraction or a polite smile.

But ignoring something doesn’t make it go away. It just grows quieter and meaner... waiting for the moment you’re too tired to fight it off.

I think about all the verses I’ve scribbled into journals over the years... verses about peace, comfort, strength. I wish I could say those words always work like medicine, wiping away the fear and doubt. But faith doesn’t work that way. At least not for me.

It’s messy. It’s showing up even when I feel broken. It’s choosing to believe God is near even when my mind is telling me I’m alone.

Journaling has helped. Writing down my thoughts, my fears, the things that keep me awake at night. I’ve found that putting the mess into words can take away some of its power. Not all of it... but enough to keep going.

But there’s something else I’ve been trying. Reading Scripture with a different lens... looking at the stories through the eyes of people who were hurting, doubting, afraid. Like Hannah, who cried out to God in her desperation. Like Elijah, who sat under a broom tree and begged for his life to end.

They were real people with real pain. And God met them there, not when they had it all figured out, but when they were broken and undone.

It makes me wonder if maybe God is meeting me here, too. Even when my prayers feel hollow and my faith feels tangled up in fear. Maybe He’s here in the middle of the mess.

I’ve been wrestling with all of this for a long time. I probably always will. But I think I’m learning to accept that faith and struggle can exist together... that God doesn’t leave me just because my mind won’t quiet down.

And I think there’s hope in that.