Finding Him in the Storm
A Story of Faith in an Anxious World, written by Kari Facer
photographs by Kati Ellis
July 9, 2020
“When I woke up this morning (kind of woke up), I felt so overwhelmed and like I wasn’t going to be able to make it through the day. I cried pretty hard when Luke went to work. I was ok though. I had some ups and downs throughout the day, but I am feeling the fear settle in again as the evening approaches and it's freaking me out. I keep thinking I need more faith, to trust in God’s eternal plan. ‘Come what may and love it.’ Right?”
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Anxiety scares me. My mind won’t stop moving, sleep won’t claim me, my heart won’t stop racing, my body won’t stop shaking. Should I flee or fight? There is so much that happens to you physically when you feel that level of fear mentally. It can be debilitating. I remember telling my husband that I wish someone would knock me out because I needed to escape my own mind.
Before my fourth pregnancy, there were only a few times in my life that I can say I experienced anxiety. And most of those related to a difficult labor and delivery experience with my third child. I still don’t know what caused it, but in June 2020 when I was six months pregnant with our fourth child, our first girl, I had an anxiety attack; the first of many.
June 3, 2020
“Last night was a really hard night for me. Hugh had a fever and threw up, but then was able to fall asleep just fine and slept almost the whole night. But my nerves got the better of me. I felt so much fear and anxiety and felt like I couldn’t control it. I meditated, read scriptures, Luke blessed me and in his prayer said our kids would be fine - and I felt that. But for some reason my body felt differently.”
I didn’t think that anxious feeling would last, and to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening to me. But those feelings lasted about a week and then kept coming and going all that summer. Little things would set me off, and it would take days for me to get to a place I felt somewhat like myself, only for the panic attacks to start all over again.
I soon recognized that I needed outside help. The anxiety only seemed to be getting worse. I started seeing a therapist and was prescribed medication to pull me out when things felt too heavy. My prayers became more intense and frequent, I began a deep study of faith, watched what I ate, made sure I was exercising my body, kept a journal, and meditated regularly. If there was something that claimed to help anxiety, I was desperate to try it.
July 7, 2020
“A couple weeks ago, I tried to explain to Simon that I felt different while pregnant—that I was more emotional and felt anger and frustration very easily. This morning I was a little upset with him for something with his cereal and the dishwasher. I found him in the family room a few minutes later. He said he was saying a prayer. A few minutes later he came back and said he had prayed for me. He prayed that the baby wouldn’t make me so frustrated. I thought it was sweet that he would do that, but also felt guilty that he felt like he needed to pray for that. I shouldn’t be so frustrated. I can do better than that.”
I remember feeling like I wasn’t doing enough for my kids at this time. But one of the things that kept me going was them; I wanted to show up for them. What I failed to recognize at that time was where I was succeeding. My son showed me that he knew to turn to the Savior when he needed help, or rather, when I needed help. But his example humbled me. I began a habit of daily repentance. I would turn my day over to the Lord and ask Him to show me where I could have done better, and then I would listen. I was learning to rely on the Lord more fully.
July 11, 2020
“Mental illness is absolutely exhausting. I can distract myself for short periods of time, but then those negative emotions always come back. I can tell myself that these emotions are irrational, silly, and my fears are so far-fetched, but the negative emotions don’t go away. The shaking continues. Fear and hopelessness settle in and the cloud of doom takes its place with no intention of ever moving—set on blocking out the sunlight for what seems like eternity.”
September 3, 2020
“This trial has been so hard. Pregnancy has been hard. I’m so scared of life, and I've never felt that way before. Part of me wants to run away from it all—just to make it stop. Part of me hopes Christ will come soon and make it all stop. I want someone to save me. To take away the pain. I’m doing my best. I’m trying to be good, to be the best I can be and am seeking God’s will. He isn’t ready to pull me out yet. There must be some growing and learning I still haven’t done yet. Why can’t I grow and learn faster?”
While I felt like I was riding an emotional rollercoaster, I was determined to fight rather than flee. I was still a mother, still pregnant, and I needed to feel anything other than fear to get through the day. I learned how much I needed my Savior. I remember escaping to my room and falling to my knees every chance I got. Like a starved soul, I craved that connection to Christ, desperately clinging to any kind of hope, no matter how small. I felt the most peace in those moments.
My journal entries from this time are full of pain and raw emotion; however, they are also filled with tender mercies from the Lord. I wrote down countless verses of scripture and inspired words. I wrote about the people and the things I was grateful for. I wrote about Christ. The pages of my journal are filled with pain, but also hope: hope in Christ.
Looking back, I can see the Lord was aware of me. He knew I needed people on my team. He gave me a loving husband who believed in me and did everything short of taking on the anxiety himself. The Lord gave me friends and family who called and checked in with me, made me laugh, and gave me hope. We were in a new town, and He provided a doctor who was able to perceive my needs, listen to me cry, promise me I would be ok, and always be a phone call away. The Lord sent me a doula to rub my feet, hear my concerns, and give me support and encouragement throughout my birth experience. Although I couldn’t always feel God’s love, I could see it.
My delivery ended up being a beautiful experience. A tender mercy. The Lord had assembled my team, and with their help a part of me healed that day. I think I needed to be there, in that place, with those people, and God provided that. I am so grateful for people who heed the Savior’s call to follow Him and serve Him through serving others.
We named her Gwen. And for whatever reason, my panic attacks became less frequent. Maybe it was pregnancy hormones calming down, the fear of labor and delivery no longer hanging over me, or the realization that I can do hard things. I may never know, but she brought sunshine, like a rainbow after the storm. And even though I knew there would be more storms, I also knew there would be more rainbows.
January 15, 2021
“I’m grateful for our health. Even mentally I have felt so much better! My anxiety is not gone. The other night I told Luke that I feel like I am standing on the edge of a cliff, trying not to fall and wanting to back away from the edge. The fall would be anxiety. It's just a step away. Some days I feel like I have put a little bit of distance between myself and that edge, but I would say most days I feel like I am close. Thankfully I haven’t really fallen like I had been doing all summer.”
I seem to have set up camp not far from that cliff. I still go for walks along the rim, and occasionally I slip off the edge. But I’ve learned that Christ will always catch me.
When I think about the Savior’s last day on this earth, what that Friday felt like for Him, I think how hard it must have been and how alone He must have felt. We will all have hard times in our lives where we feel broken and alone. We may wonder if we'll ever feel whole again. But our very own Sunday will come, just like it did for Christ. He didn’t give up when things were hard, and neither must we.
It’s hard to write an ending when I feel like I am still trying to find one. My world was anxious, and it sometimes still is. But I have learned that I need to find Christ in my life every single day. Having a mental illness can cloud out all other emotions and numb that connection with God. When I couldn’t feel His light, I had to find Him in other ways. I found Him in my husband and my children. I found Him in my extended family and friends. I found Him in scripture and song. I found Him in prayer. I found Him in the storm. If we look for Christ, we will find Him.
