For years I’ve suffered with anxiety. After therapy I found out that it wasn’t created after my years of an abusive relationship. It was always there. Something I’ve always had. The ptsd and constant torment in my head replay old memories that show that it is true. Just repression of my anxiety and denial of the adults around me caused the lack of treatment. Part of me feels after the 20 years of this untreated mental illness I can never recover.

I recall these old memories and remember the loss that contributed to this fire. I tell my husband sometimes of the memories I have and the sweet guy always holds me and says,”good thing it wasn’t real. I’m so sorry you’re tormented with dreams like that”. And I just accept the sweet words, unable to tell him that these “dreams” weren’t dreams. That they were real.

I remember a team meeting at my youth pastors house. We were discussing ideas for fundraising to get new equipment for the youth department. They looked at me and I started discussing my idea, then I noticed the girls behind me were talking, then the people to my far right were discussing, and the group towards the front near my pastor and his wife were talking as well. I got so upset that no one was listening so I shouted,”hey I’m talking, how are were supposed to come up with an idea if no one can focus on each other?!” And everyone froze. My pastor got so red in the face and scolded me in front of everyone,”you will NOT disrespect my wife like that in our home. SHE is talking NOT you.” And I knew my face got so red and I tried to defend myself. And he shut me down. A couple of my guy friends thankfully jumped in and said “Pastor J, I didn’t know your wife was talking either. She is right no one is respecting each other.” And my pastor still frustrated at me “Jess is talking and there is no reason for you to speak that way”. The pastors wife continue to speak. And everyone’s eyes just slowly left me. I started at the floor, frozen, cold, unsure what to feel. After the got done speaking. I gathered my belongings and stood up, I told my friend I was leaving and it was time to go, but he said someone else could take him home. I got in my car and could feel all the stress, embarrassment, rage, the hurt. I cared for this man and his family, looked up to him so much. My intentions weren’t meant in disrespect. But in frustration in what I thought was lack of respect in the situation.

I was growing up in a home with constant yelling. Screaming. Fighting. And anytime I could feel stress or chaos I couldn’t hold in my urge to fix it and get it out than bringing it to a screaming halt. This man called me later and apologized. I forgave him. No one spoke to me for weeks and he lashed out at me several times again after. Later I found out the reason for him treating me this way was because he didn’t get fair treatment from my father whom he worked with on the worship team.

I might not have handled the issue of that situation well. However I was 16 and the only other way I saw conflict handled was with fists and screaming in others faces. So I thought what I was doing was an improvement.