But, there was another side to these wonderful things. Due to the dramatic increase in energy, my body had too much excess energy to know what to do with. I tried to get it all out by doing a week's worth in chores every day, as well as going for miles' long jogs and walks every chance I had. But, it still wasn't enough, and all that excess energy caused me to go through a period of extreme physical anxiety attacks.
They almost always started with my heart racing out of the blue. I'd try to slow it down by taking control of my breathing and taking in long, deep breaths. But, living with CF for eighteen years made me a little too conscious about my breathing for so long. Taking control and focusing on my breath scared me, because I'd always start to think about how well my lungs were doing, and tuning in to feel if there was anything wrong. As those who have experienced anxiety attacks before know, when you're going through an anxiety attack, it often feels like you can never get enough air. I felt like my airways were constricting, and my chest couldn't expand far enough for me to get a full breath in. I'd then start to really panic as my heart raced faster and faster, skipping beats as it did so. It snowballed downhill from there.
These attacks lasted anywhere from five minutes to five hours, and sometimes I had multiple attacks every day, and woke up in the midst of one at night. It was hell.
I was in constant contact with my doctors, because Trikafta was still a very experimental drug. Every two months, I had to get my blood drawn to ensure that my liver could handle the medication, and I was told to not eat anything with grapefruit or alcohol. Grapefruit interacted with Trikafta and made it much less effective, and the doctors didn't know if my liver could handle Trikafta and alcohol at the same time.
I alerted my doctors of this sudden rise in physical anxiety almost as soon as I started to deal with it. Unfortunately, my doctors were a little nervous about prescribing me medication right away, as some anti-anxiety medications could interact negatively with Trikafta. But, while they researched further, my doctors assured me that I wasn't alone. Many people on Trikafta reported a sharp increase in anxiety and depression symptoms. At the time (January-February 2020), doctors didn't know why Trikafta caused such symptoms for about 20% of those who were taking the drug. It wouldn't be until late 2020 that scientists would discover Trikafta sometimes negatively messed with the brain, causing some people to experience much more severe anxiety and depression symptoms than usual.
Other than that, I was completely at the mercy of my merciless anxiety. It made me moderately agoraphobic, especially when I experienced anxiety attacks alone in public, and at times even while I was driving. I became afraid to drive or go out in public alone, and if I felt even a slightly bad feeling, I would refuse to leave the house unless someone I knew was with me at all times. Or, if I was driving, I'd immediately pull over and let my passenger drive. This really stifled my ability to get outside every day and exercise, or go out and see people. It also killed my hopes of going to college starting in the fall of 2020 (I tried online college in January. I found the work doable, but the professor was shit, so I dropped out two weeks later).
I was, once again, bitter. I felt betrayed, not just by Trikafta, but God Himself. I felt like I'd been duped into being hopeful once again. Like I was the butt of yet another sick joke. Sure, I had my physical health back, but in exchange, my mental health tanked further than it ever had since middle school. If I couldn't get back on my feet in a few months, I'd quit taking Trikafta. I figured it was better to die in ten years than suffer from debilitating anxiety attacks every day and night. I didn't want to spend another fifty or sixty years suffering like that.
Once again, a glimmer of hope came in the form of a couple medications: sertraline and propranolol. Sertraline was a mild anti-depressant that basically encouraged my brain to produce a little more of the happy chemical known as serotonin. Propranolol was a mild medication to help slow down my heart rate. While I wasn't too thrilled about adding two more medications to my existing mountain of daily pills, I was desperate for some relief from the anxiety.
It took awhile, but the medications, even at small doses, really did work! Over a period of a few months, my anxiety attacks gradually became less aggressive and less debilitating. My heart rate slowed down to a reasonable pace. And, I could sleep through the night, peacefully and at ease.
But, I must admit, the night before my doctor called to tell me that I could try those two medications, I woke up from yet another anxiety attack. Instead of pacing around my bedroom for over an hour, trying (and failing) to use breathing techniques to calm myself down, I noticed I had placed my old study bible on my night stand. I had dug it out shortly after I started taking Trikafta, as I thought that maybe God was there after all. But, I never really got around to reading it, and never had the desire to crack it open, until that cold, dark, February night.
Flipping through my bible's delicate pages, I came across 1 Kings. There, I had the inexplicable urge to read it. Nothing really seemed to resonate with me for the first eighteen chapters or so, but I just couldn't put the Bible down. I can't really explain why, but I just had this iresistable urge to keep reading. As I did so, my heart rate gradually slowed down to its resting pace. My breathing naturally returned to normal. My body no longer felt tingly with anxiety. My mind was no longer haunted by a deep sense of dread. Then, just as I felt relaxed enough to put the Bible down and go to sleep, I started to read about Elijah. There, it clicked.
In chapter 19 of 1 Kings, Elijah fled from Israel (which, at the time, had turned its back on God, and Elijah was trying to bring them back to Him) after his life was threatened by the leaders of Israel. Elijah was terrified, even though he and God had full-on conversations all the time, and God had given Elijah miraculous abilities in order to reclaim Israel for the Lord. Elijah sprinted into the wilderness, until he eventually collapsed under a tree from exhaustion. There, between heavy breaths, Elijah cried out, "I've had enough, Lord! Kill me; I am no better than my ancestors." Finally, Elijah laid down and fell asleep.
Some time later, Elijah was tapped on the shoulder. He sat up, only to hear an angel tell him, "Get up and eat."
The angel had prepared a meal for Elijah. So, Elijah ate his meal, and went back to sleep. For a couple more days, the angel fed Elijah and let him sleep, telling him that he needed to physically recover before embarking on his next journey.
Once Elijah had recovered just enough, he was prompted by the angel to travel forty days through the wilderness, until he arrived at a cave on mount Horeb; the Mountain of God.
The next day, God came to the cave and asked Elijah what he was doing there. Elijah explained that he had been chased out of Israel and his life had been threatened. So, he ran away to the mountains where he now was, utterly crushed and disheartened by what just happened.
God then commanded Elijah to watch outside the cave. There, Elijah witnessed a mighty wind to blow through, and then a great earthquake followed it. After the earthquake, there was fire. But, God wasn't in the elements. It wasn't until things got silent and still again that Elijah could feel God's presence and hear His voice.
By then, I was in tears. I finally resonated with the Bible. And, for the first time ever, I realized I had actually connected with the Lord. While I heard no voices besides my own internal monologue, I just knew God was telling me, "It's okay to be struggling right now. It is normal, and I love you." Even as I type this, I can feel my eyes welling up with tears. It was just such a profound, inexplicable moment. Like a switch had been flipped somewhere within me, and I was no longer numb to the presence of God.
I sat, still and frozen in bed, just resting with the feeling as hot tears streamed down my cheeks. For the first time in forever, I felt truly at peace. I just knew that I would be okay, no matter what. All of my anxieties surrounding my physical and mental health were gone for the moment. And, all of my anxiety surrounding my spiritual health would leave me forever, for the most part. I no longer questioned if this nonessential issue or that nonessential issue kept me from being a Christian. I no longer feared my depression and anxiety were signs that I just hadn't found God yet. Even God's most faithful servants all throughout the bible suffered from anxiety and depression at some point. Even God in the Flesh, Jesus Christ, experienced such things while dying on the cross, prompting Him to cry out, "My God, my God. Why have You forsaken Me?"
