Even Then by Anna Cosper
There's a coping mechanism recommended for people who struggle with anxiety--a grounding technique.
The point is that, during an anxiety or panic attack, the act of focusing on your senses can distract you enough to calm you down. It's almost like a game. You must find five things to see, four things to touch, three things to hear, two things to smell, and one thing to taste. Anyone who has ever sought any kind of treatment for mental health knows this exercise. It is, in its most rudimentary form, a distraction.
I can remember sitting on the scratchy couch across from a psychologist at age 14 as she walked me through the exercise.
I never really found it helpful, in my personal experience. But I still think of it on late nights, during bathroom floor breakdowns, and curled-in-the-corner panic attacks that fall over me in nauseating waves.
On this particular night, I found myself pondering the exercise.
As I said, it never really worked for me. But maybe I just needed to modify--mold it to fit who I am, to who God is. I need to be grounded on something other than this earth.
So I begin:
Five things to see
I see the moon, in all its glory--in all Your glory--its light cascading through the window, spilling across my quilt in silver rays of grace.
I see the darkness that envelops everything in the room untouched by the moonlight.
I see the neon green digital clock on my bookshelf. I'm watching the minutes and hours tick by and slowly accepting that tomorrow will be another day of chasing yawns with gulps of coffee.
I see a cross and a seashell. I keep them next to my bible. A wooden cross inscribed with the words "Nothing is impossible for God." A simple, yet profound truth that one's heart needs constant saturation in. The seashell is small and white--it was one of the only ones found intact during my most recent beach trip. It is a reminder that when everything else is chipped and broken, it is God who makes me whole. And it is a reminder of the people God has brought into my life that have helped piece me back together.
Four things to touch
My hand reaches to pick up the cross (1) and the seashell (2). I hold them up to the moonlight and trace the indentions on the seashell's exterior. I curl my fingers around the curvature of the cross and repeat the words in my head: For nothing will be impossible with God.
I reach then for my Bible. It is too dark to read and too late to break the darkness with the light of my table lamp, but I open it and flip to the Psalm I have nearly memorized by now, Psalm 139. It is marked up in all kinds of colored highlighting. There are pen and pencil marks with words or phrases underlined or circled for emphasis.
"Even the dark is not dark," I say to myself, willing my heart to turn toward that truth.
I brush my hand over the Psalm, the words I can't fully make out with my eyes, but most certainly can with my heart. And I fully wrap these words around my heart and sing them over my heart and trust that He is doing the same--wrapping and singing like a Father bandaging a child's skinned-up knee, He wraps and sings as He works to bandage my skinned-up heart.
Three things to hear:
I hear a white noise sound machine--the mimic of ocean waves only halfway soothing me, not enough, apparently, to aid in my falling asleep.
I hear my own breathing becoming deeper now.
I hear the rustle of the thin pages of my Bible underneath my fingers.
Two things to smell
I smell clean sheets and Glade plug-ins. The intentional act deepening my breathing even more. In and out, up and down, on and on we go into the night.
One thing to taste
This one always stumps me, especially in an environment like my room in the dead of night. I fumble around in my mind for a way to answer this one, to complete the exercise, determined now to do so. It is meant to be literal, of course. For you to literally taste something as a part of grounding. It engages all of your senses--sight, touch, hear, smell, and taste.
But it's 3AM and I'm not exactly in the mood for a snack.
But I can't stop repeating the same phrase in my mind, "Taste and see that the LORD is good” (Psalm 34:8 ESV).
Taste and see.
Grace like milk and honey, a never-ceasing stream of mercy. In and out, up and down, on and on, breathing in and out against my bandaged, skinned-up heart.
The moon, the dark and all its un-darkness, the cross and seashell--reminders of grace and deliverance, Ebenezers I keep close by--the Bible I've had for over a year that's already more worn out than any other Bible I've ever owned in my 20 years of life. Its leather edges bent upward from frequent use, the pages wearing thin from nights like these spent thumbing through excessively highlighted Psalms--purples and yellows beckoning like a signal fire: look here! Right here! This is where you're grounded, this is where you're found because this is where he has found you.
All the grounding in the world cannot save me if I am not grounded in Jesus.
The things that I see, touch, hear, taste outside of His goodness will fade and fall.
These tools are useful only when held in tangent with Him.
Even if the rain keeps falling and the floods keep rising and the nightmares still haunt and the memories still taunt--yes, even then I will trust.
Even if the need for healing never seems to end and the chaos around me continues to circle around and around, spilling into every aspect of my life--even then I will trust.
No matter how many times I sit cross-legged in my bed, wondering if this is ever going to end, if the light will ever break the night, even then I know you are good. Even if relationships remain broken, words unspoken, hearts unopened, yes, Lord, I will still know that you are good. You have always been good to me. I will ground myself in that truth. I will yank and pull at this heart of mine and tether it to who you are and who I am in you.
Because you are the ground beneath my feet.
You are the grounding that I need.
And in you, I find all I’ve ever needed to be.
Anna Cosper is a college student and English tutor in rural Alabama. She is a blogger and intern
for Ann Voskamp’s ministry. She enjoys a good book, a cup of coffee, writing to reach the
vulnerable, leading worship at her church, and spending time with Jesus. Anna is passionate
about writing about the very real struggles of day-to-day life and finding Jesus in the details of it
all. You can usually find her analyzing literature, singing the harmony to every song she hears,
and spending time with people that make her soul glad.