Unfortunately, my anxiety only got worse. I was worried about the state of my health. I knew I was probably fine as long as I didn't turn yellow or start pissing blood. Still, not knowing for sure how my body was doing was difficult for me. I really wanted to know, and I was upset that I couldn't get my blood drawn so I could know exactly how my body was dealing with the Trikafta. At the time, I was dealing with some alarming symptoms, but I wasn't sure if they were good or bad news, and my doctors didn't know either. I often experienced random pains throughout the day in my abdomen, especially close to my liver. I also felt a lot of pressure near my liver, or like things were moving around it. Doctors theorized that perhaps all of that could be attributed to my gallbladder working for the first time, and it was just clearing itself out. They also thought that my liver was purging all the mucus that had built up in it over the years. Unless I felt something absolutely crippling, I shouldn't worry about it. But, it was impossible for my anxious mind to not worry about that, among many other things. 

For the next couple of months, I endured crippling anxiety attacks every single day. They seriously wrecked my daily life. I couldn't do anything without possibly being interrupted by another horrible anxiety attack. Some were so bad that I strongly considered calling 9-1-1, fearing I was having a heart attack. My fear wasn't entirely irrational. I was born with Pulmonary Atresia, and unlike literally everyone else with PA, I went my entire childhood only needing a single open heart surgery. My heart had also raced my whole life, and had an extra beat too. It was only a matter of time before the lack of open heart surgeries finally caught up to me, right? 

Prayer only did so much for me. It didn't rescue me when I was in the midst of one of my anxiety attacks. However, what did help me was going back to the story of Elijah in 1 Kings. Elijah spent forty days wandering around in the wilderness before coming to a cave. He couldn't have possibly been having a good time during those forty days. I wondered if I was sort of in the same situation as Elijah. I certainly felt like I was lost and wandering aimlessly. I mean, my life completely stopped due to my anxiety and depression. I stopped writing. I stopped working on art. I stopped talking to people. I slept for most of the day, everyday, only getting out of bed to do essential things, like eating and chores. So, maybe I was right where God wanted me to be, even though I wasn't where I wanted to be at all. 

Even when I finally got on medication, nothing changed for quite some time. I was prescribed Zoloft, which was what I was prescribed before even though it didn't seem to have much of an effect, except I was put on a different dose of the medication. I was told to take Zoloft for three to four weeks to give it time to start working, and if I didn't feel any different, I could call the psychiatrist and figure something else out. Otherwise, if it worked, I'd be good to go. Personally, I didn't think it would work, but I had to give it a second chance. 

I knew those next three to four weeks would be really difficult, and they were. I still had day-ruining anxiety attacks, and my depression made it very difficult to think and talk. My mind was completely fogged up. I couldn't think about much of anything, let alone talk about it. But, I held on. I leaned into God more than ever before, even though I didn't feel very close to Him. I held onto any and all hope I could find. I made sure to take care of my physical needs, even if I didn't feel any joy come from it. I woke up before noon everyday and got ready. I ate well and abstained from sugar and processed food as much as possible. I went outside everyday, regardless of the weather, to enjoy nature and stretch my legs. I talked to my therapist and parents about my struggles regularly, even if I couldn't put my feelings into words very well. And, of course, I prayed and buried my head in my bible every night before bed. 

Things slowly began to improve. I started having tiny moments during the day where I felt like I could think again. They were very occasional and fleeting at first, but they still gave me a lot of hope. They were a sign that I had hit rock bottom, and things could only improve from there. I finally began to see the light at the end of the tunnel, even though it was dim and distant at first. Soon, I would be back to my old self. 

But, more importantly, I think I finally began to grasp Who God really was. For the first time, even though I didn't hear from God or experience any miracles, I felt close to Him. Somehow, I just knew God could hear me every time I prayed, and was with me wherever I went, even when I was in my own personal hell. If, for some reason, I felt myself slipping in my faith during those hard times, I read about Elijah in 1 Kings to remind myself that God was with me, even if things were tough. Revisiting that story also reminded me that things would get better soon, even if it took forever. I just needed to get through life one day at a time, pray, and hold onto hope that things would get better soon.