Independence Day

Last night, I went to a Colorado Rockies game with my husband, parents, brother, and his family. I sat in a stadium of 50,000 people. I was in the middle of a tightly packed row where making a quick exit was impossible. And after the game, I walked back to our car with my husband and got stuck in bumper to bumper traffic for an hour.

For most people, everything I’ve just mentioned is unremarkable. I am not most people. I remember what it was like to have such debilitating anxiety and panic attacks that I couldn’t drive fifteen minutes across town with my husband. Crowds and traffic jams and car rides amped my anxiety up so high that I began to avoid going almost everywhere. I sat at home and watched people on TV doing the things I couldn’t. I saw happy families on Facebook going on vacations, having parties, and going to concerts. And slowly, I began to give up hope that I would ever get to have a life where I got to have those experiences.

Giving up hope felt better to me at the time—because every time I dared to hope, every time I opened the door to hope just the tiniest bit to let a crack of light in, I would “fail.” I’d have a panic attack or feel that terrible anxiety, and the door would get slammed shut. It was less painful not to hope at all. It was safer.

It was also terribly depressing and especially unfair to my husband, who deserved to experience life as much as anyone does. But I didn’t know how to change. I knew that I couldn’t simply decide not to be anxious or depressed. But I COULD decide to hope. I COULD decide to deal with the issues in my life head on. I COULD choose to listen to God telling me, “Hey, Renee—trust Me. There’s so much more for you than this.” And so I cracked open the door to hope and let the tiniest little sliver of light in.

I’d done that before, but I’d always slammed it shut if I got scared or discouraged. I had become so comfortable in my misery that I had just surrendered to it and decided to live that way—to believe the lie that other people got to live fulfilling and happy lives, but not me. It wasn’t until I let myself truly hope that life could get better that it did. And I decided that no matter how hard it was, I was going to fight for that better life.

And it has been a fight. I’ve failed so many times. I’ve taken baby steps forward only to end up on an expressway backwards again. But I didn’t give up and let myself stay there. I fought back. I’m still fighting. And because of that fight, last night I got to watch the sky over Denver explode with fireworks while I sat between my mom and my husband, fighting back tears.

Today is Independence Day. Maybe it’s time for you to declare YOUR independence from the things that hold you back—from the lies that you let yourself believe. Maybe today will be the day that you choose to allow yourself a little bit of hope. I promise you, God will build on that—always. So open the door to hope—open it a crack or kick it wide open. Whatever you do, choose to focus on the light of hope. Choose it a million times a day if you have to. Fight for it. Your life is so worth it.