As we saw in the last chapter, the man in the story did the work of re–membering, a healthy and healing work of connecting the dots of our stories. I wish I could tell you that remembering would make the anxiety go away immediately, completely, and for everyone. What I can tell you is that it is vitally important to healing and wholeness. But it may not be enough.

When I began dealing with my own anxiety issues more than twenty years ago, an essential part of that work included what we talked about in the last chapter—connecting the disparate parts of my story, making sense of them, and discovering God’s nearness in it all. But my inquiry into my own life led me down a longer and more complicated road—the story of my extended, multi–generational family. And that’s when things started making much more sense.

What I learned was that anxiety burdened my mother. And my mother’s mother. And many others in my family. Indeed, what I learned ultimately is that I wasn’t an anomaly, but the bearer of a genetic burden.

Suddenly, I wasn’t alone. I was in the company of the anxious.

Discovering the extent of anxiety not just in my body, but in my family, helped me immensely. Suddenly, I was dealing with something larger than me. It made more sense. Just as a grandparent’s proclivity to cancer or diabetes might impact me, so our generational history of anxiety left its unique mark on my life. In fact, I wasn’t even afraid when my therapist talked about having an anxiety disorder. It made a lot of sense. It helped me take this condition seriously.

Just as a grandparent’s proclivity to cancer or diabetes might impact me, so our generational history of anxiety left its unique mark on my life.

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I also opened up to the possibility of treating my symptoms with medication, much like I’d do if I were diabetic or struggled with high blood pressure. Medication can be controversial, for some. They can be misused and even abused, so pursuing this path wisely and under the care of a competent professional is essential. My doctor prescribed an antidepressant called an SSRI which, in time, curbed the pervasive undulations of anxiety. He also prescribed a low dosage of a benzodiazepine, something to be used when panic ramped up and took my body hostage. I was a bit nervous as I wondered about feeling strange or encountering side effects.

Then came the day of a major oral exam in graduate school. I sat in the front of a room with two other people being examined, looking out at peers and professors. Ordinarily my heart would race endlessly, my hands would sweat, my mouth would dry. But I’d taken my benzodiazepine about a half–hour before, and I felt good. I felt present. I felt calm. When the questions started coming, I was clear. And I was really, really good.

I thought back to my birthday party and that odd and troubling “spotlight effect” I’d experienced, but this time I didn’t encounter it. Since then, these two medications have been like supportive friends in difficult times, there when I need them. As I’ve grown older, my anxiety has diminished, but there are still times when I’ll reach for a pill. I see it as God’s grace for an anxiety disorder and a generational struggle.

While every human being wrestling with the contingencies of life “under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 1:9) will experience some anxiety, we need to recognize the life–altering and overwhelming experience of pervasive, debilitating anxiety which requires medical and/or therapeutic intervention. In these cases, it is unhelpful, even immoral, to spiritualize anxiety away with a Bible verse—“God works all things together for good” (Romans 8:28)—or a trite encouragement—“I’m praying for you…God’s got this!” For someone whose anxiety requires clinical intervention, it’s crucial to remember that God works through the ordinary processes of therapist’s appointments, anti–anxiety medications, good sleep, regular exercise, nutritious meals, and supportive friends. While we can pray and intercede on behalf of someone with an anxiety disorder, we can also show support by de–stigmatizing it and affirming every aspect of a good treatment plan.

In these cases, it is unhelpful, even immoral, to spiritualize anxiety away with a Bible verse.

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Cynthia, a twenty–eight–year–old stay–at–home mom, struggled with debilitating social anxiety for years, sometimes unable to leave her home for days or weeks. Growing up, her father attributed her anxiety to a lack of faith and chastised her for being weak. Her husband was only slightly more curious, more often than not passive–aggressively chiding Cynthia for not getting groceries or making friends. When Jane, a deacon from church, came by to drop off some clothes for the baby, Cynthia found herself opening up for the first time about her pain. Jane – a licensed therapist – listened well and wisely, sensing Cynthia’s reticence to get help given the narrative about mental health issues in her family. Jane shared a bit about her own battle with depression, her need for mental health care, for medication, and for good support structures.

Cynthia wept. She felt both fearful and hopeful, and before Jane left she set up an appointment with her physician. Cynthia’s journey to health and freedom was difficult, not least because of the family voices as well as the inner voices that chided her for being weak and broken, even helpless. But with Jane’s support, Cynthia began to pursue the care she needed. In time, her husband recognized his own unhelpful and even toxic contribution to Cynthia’s struggle and repented, committing to his own journey of emotional and spiritual health.