This morning thoughts of work woke me.
“Did I chart that?!”
Somehow the question of whether I had remembered (in the chaos of a rapid intubation, followed by a code blue) to chart a controlled substance is what pulled me out of slumber. It wasn’t the promise of good coffee or the plans of going poolside. It was worry over whether I documented something correctly that happened at work many days prior.
Even after I figured that one out, the feeling of persistent concern followed me. It followed me as I sat sleepily on the side of the bed, and it followed me into the bathroom. It followed me all the way to the coffee maker, and it followed me a[fterward] to the couch, coffee and devotional in hand. I just felt anxious.
I was feeling worried about something, and unable to pinpoint a cause, I recognized it for what it was. Anxiety. Just plain, ole anxiety. Although anxiety never felt “just.” It felt anything but. It felt awful.
Sometimes I could figure out the specific concern, and with that knowledge in hand, I could speak truth into my thoughts. I could speak God’s truth. Soooo many Scriptures that combated anxious thoughts. But still…
Sometimes even knowing the cause, even realizing it was ridiculous, that didn’t always make it go away. Sometimes anxiety was pretty darn persistent.
In these cases, I had to be persistent also. There was no “if you can’t beat-em, join-em” mindset allowed. When lies hit, truth had to hit harder.