Stand Close By by Iona and Eli Snair

When anxiety came to our house, it didn’t come inconveniently like an uninvited guest – it came violently and unimaginably like a home invasion. Our son Eli was 9 years old – an explorer and adventurer, with an unstoppable drive to conquer every inch of the forest behind our house and populate it with the legends he and his buddies would fashion from bits and pieces of the stories they loved. Terabithia was back there; Narnia came and went; and Modor of the Middle Earth cloaked the simple birch and cedars with captivating menace and mystery every day. 

It happened so quickly that we missed all the signs and found ourselves quite suddenly immersed in a new world. This one had none of the enchanting fairy tale elements that had entranced our boy in the past. This one had only the darkness and dragons – and a knight caught unaware and unprepared for the battle ahead.

“I remember what it was like when the anxiety started. It felt sick. It felt bad. It felt horrible. I kept thinking something was going to happen even though they said it wasn’t. Something is going to happen to my mom. Something bad is going to happen to my mom or me. The thoughts went over and over in circles in my head. I pictured death, destruction, sadness. The things I feared might happen were in my head all the time and even though it made things worse I just couldn’t stop picturing them. I would try to tell myself to stop but then something small would happen – like a thought or someone being late or even a noise I’d hear – and my thoughts would go back to thinking about all the bad things that I was sure were going to happen to me and my family. Nothing seemed to work. Even if it worked for a while, the thoughts would come straight back . The thoughts made me want to throw up. I just wanted it to stop – it made me want to disappear so I could make it stop. I knew nothing was really happening but thinking about it was like it was true. It was horrible. I couldn’t stop my thoughts. And then when something I feared would happen – like I’d get separated from my mom in a crowd or something – I regretted over and over doing whatever I had done to get into that spot and told myself I needed to make sure that never happened again. I felt fear, sadness and hopelessness and it wouldn’t go away.”

We’ve learned a lot about anxiety since those early days. We’ve learned that our son has an anxiety disorder that may reside in him for life. We’ve learned that the fear has very little to do with what is happening externally and much to do with his internal pictures of what might happen; he responds to the potential for pain as if it were actual pain. The same imagination that took him on his many adventures now served to create a world that felt unsafe and uncertain. The same sensitivity that caused him to instinctively know how others were feeling and to meet the world with gentleness and compassion now left him overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted.

In the first year after the anxiety took hold we tried the deep breathing and the self-talk, the medication and the diet change, the support group and the skill building, but Eli was still so very fragile. Crowds and chaos could act as an open door for the anxious feelings, but so would sitting alone and thinking. 

“I wanted all the things my parents were trying to get me to do to help, but they just didn’t seem to help. I felt like there was nothing that could be done that would work. I felt like I couldn’t beat it – like I was going to be stuck like this forever. I met another kid who was really anxious but I was afraid to talk to him because I thought he might feel anxiety different than me and just think I was weird. Sometimes I feel like no body could understand me and I need someone to talk to who feels the same way as I do. I wonder if anybody feels the same way as me.” 

Eli wasn’t the only one feeling overwhelmed. As his mom, I just wanted to make it better and correct all his faulty perceptions so they wouldn’t have power over him. It’s not as simple as that. I remember one night sitting by the window during a neighbourhood power outage and looking out at the darkness. “I know it’s not true Mom, but I feel like everyone has disappeared and we’re the only ones left alive and it makes me feel really scared.” 

“Of course it’s not true. Everyone is there. There’s nothing to worry about. Everything is fine.” The words tripped over each other rushing out of my mouth. All were accurate, but what Eli needed most was someone to step into his shoes for a minute and say, “Honey, it must feel so scary to think that might be true. I’ll sit here with you while you work that one out. ”

It took some time, but we began to learn that Eli didn’t need correction, he needed to know that in the middle of his anxious thoughts, he was not alone. My first instinct was to make him feel safe by setting his thoughts straight. But soon I realized that my best efforts to redirect and reassure didn’t seem to have any lasting effect. They actually served to create a dependency on me to rescue him – a feeling that he really was powerless to stand alone.  

And maybe he was. Maybe we all are. But maybe we weren’t meant to.

One day things were especially bad and Eli and I were asking God for help. We asked Jesus to walk Eli out of this anxious place and into a better place, and then we waited. In his mind, Eli saw a wonderful old house with children running in and out of the many rooms, laughing and playing. He saw himself joining in and exploring with them. I asked him, “Where is Jesus in the picture?”

He said, “Just a minute.” And then, with a big grin on his face, he said, “Jesus IS the house!”

That image was the beginning of some better days. The realization that as he lived his days he actually lived and breathed within the presence of Jesus was a sort of reorientation for Eli – a reframing of the truth. The verses from the Bible that he had carried in a pouch around his neck to give him something to focus on in the anxious moments, now took on new meaning. Having seen where he was invited to reside seemed to release him from some of the places he had gotten stuck visiting.

“One thing I started doing when I felt anxious was praying for people we know who were anxious too, and that helped because I realized I wasn’t the only one in the world feeling this way. Praying for them got my mind off myself and actually helped me feel better because I realized that a lot of people are fighting the same things I’m fighting – and maybe if I stand next to them they’ll be stronger. And maybe I will be too.”

I remember back to when Eli was in kindergarten. One day at dinner he was telling us about how sometimes kids got hurt on the playground and it really disturbed him. We asked, “What do you do when that happens?”

“Well,” he said, “I don’t really know what to do so I just go over and stand close by them while they’re crying until help comes.” 

Eli has figured something out that some of us take a life time to grasp. Sometimes there is no quick fix; sometimes there is no easy answer. It just hurts. And what we need most is someone to stand close by. It doesn’t make the pain go away, but it sure makes it easier to bear. 

The anxiety isn’t gone, but together we’re continuing to learn what it looks like to stand close and share the difficult days, without having them define our lives. The invader no longer has control of our home, and at times we dare to believe that life is “back to normal”. But then anxiety returns and we realize that for now, perhaps this is our normal. And if standing together means standing here for awhile, then it’s where we need to be. 

Though we all wish the story was different at times, this is the one we are living. And in the middle of it Jesus has never left our side. Together, we’re standing around our warrior child until the healing comes. 

Iona Snair is a mentor and instructor with Lifeteams – a youth ministry training school operated by Vancouver YFC/Youth Unlimited (www.lifeteams.ca). She and her husband Rob work together to equip college age students to impact young people, but her favourite job is raising their two sons – Eli and Sasha – together.

Eli Snair is a grade 7 student in Abbotsford B.C.. He loves Garfield, playing outdoors, reading Archie comics, playing strategy games, anything medieval, lego, and every holiday. According to his little brother Sasha, he’s also “the best big brother in the world.”

Comments

[Valerie Mackley]

I am privileged to have read this article. This will help me with my own selftalk and the need to come alongside of someone who may be feeling anxious for whatever reason. It is good advise that you give, we may not be able to fix the problem or explain it away but we can stand next to that someone. I know that My God is always with me but having someone with “skin on” is very comforting. Thank you for your article.

[jan]

the telling of your story releases real blessing.
thank you so much for sharing!

[Jean]

Its Goood!