I’ve not been sleeping. For maybe weeks. Months? I don’t even know. What I do know is that I wake up between 1 and 3am just about every morning and lie awake pondering all the mistakes — or possible mistakes — I’ve made with my life. And how those mistakes undoubtedly affect the people I love most. And how I’ve very likely messed up everything. My life. Their lives. The lives of people I don’t even know. All have been touched by these obviously horrible choices.

Then I cycle into — How do I fix this? Can I fix this? What do I do now? Will I ever be able to make it right? What if I can’t?

Anxiety never used to be a problem for me. That was my husband’s job (I say cheekily). I was the relaxed, optimistic, pseudo flower child who rarely got rattled or worried.

Our kids love to describe their parents in one true story. We were on a road trip to visit family and had probably been in the car for an hour or so. Traffic was bad and it seemed every driver on the road was crazy. Their dad was driving; he was angry and frustrated, yelling at the GPS and the other drivers. I interrupted his road rage to point out “the pretty blue flowers” growing on the side of the road. They laugh and laugh at this. It’s an apt snippet of our personalities.

Over the last couple years, however, I have learned to be anxious. Yes, I’m using the word “learned” intentionally here. We’ll get to that in a minute.

The older I get, the shorter life seems and the more weighty decisions feel. They can’t all be reversed. And I see more clearly how much impact things have on other things, intentional or not. The Butterfly Effect (an element of chaos theory — not the movie) used to elicit hope and courage in me. I thought it fun and whimsical and empowering. Now it’s nigh on terrifying. What if every little thing I do can truly initiate ripples that will affect the future and people not just here but all around the world for generations to come?

So as my kids grew closer and closer to college age, I grew more and more aware of how little time I had left and how choices I made when they were little still carried influence on them today. I also saw how decisions made by others — things I had little to no control over — rippled over into our life, often limiting our choices or opportunities. Time and impact… all out of my control.

I started to worry. And then I started to rehearse my worries.

You know, often what we describe as “venting” is actually “rehearsing.” We claim to be releasing frustrations, but we’re often just perfecting them. We fine-tune those feelings into something a little more polished, so we can pull them out again and show them to the next person, a little better, a little brighter, with a little more punch.

That’s what I began to do with my worries. With enough rehearsing, enough practice and perfecting, I built a habit of anxiety. I learned to worry and I learned to worry regularly.

So what if I have messed up everything?

Well, it is entirely possible that I have messed up everything. I am human. I make mistakes. Sometimes those mistakes have long-lasting and far-reaching effects. Without omniscience of all possibilities past and present, there’s no way I can be perfect and always make perfect decisions.

I’m going to have to be okay with that.
I need to embrace my humanity a bit. (Maybe you do too.)

There are a few things I want to tell you (and remind myself).

Two Truths and a Task

God is bigger and way more powerful than you or me. That means there is no mistake you or I could make that he cannot redeem. His grace reaches further than the impact of all our mistakes! Even our biggest, most regretful ones. His grace can fill in all the gaps we leave and make things beautiful. That doesn’t mean reversing or erasing errors. It may mean amplifying them so that others can learn of his power and forgiveness. (See 2 Corinthians 12:9.)

So that’s Truth #1.

GOD IS GREATER THAN OUR MISTAKES and HIS GRACE IS SUFFICIENT.

Truth #2: God loves the people we love even more than we do. And he loves you and me too. That means he will not abandon us. He will chase us down to bring us good things.

God wants to give good gifts to his children. (See Psalm 31:19–22; Romans 8:28; James 1:17; Ephesians 2:17… and many more.) That includes us! Even with our mistakes. Perhaps in spite of and because of our mistakes.

GOD WILL NOT GIVE UP ON US.

HE WANTS GOOD FOR US.

Armed with those truths, we can now talk about the task. Truths we believe; a task is something we do.

Worry is a habit that can be broken.

Judson Brewer is a psychiatrist and neuroscientist who has spent years studying how the mind works and impacts behavior. He specializes in helping people break bad habits. In his book Unwinding Anxiety, he correlates worry to addiction. Addictions and habits are not just things we do, but repeated pathways we take, often without even thinking about them. They’re ruts we fall into and continue to traverse, even when we know they do us no good.

The good news: If a rut can be formed, it can be reformed.

The Task: BREAK THE HABIT OF WORRY.

Obviously, I’ve not broken this habit yet, but I’m working on it.

One thing I’m trying to practice is mindfulness. In other words, I want to be conscious of where I let my mind roam. I don’t want my thoughts to ramble and tumble into the darkest places. When I notice that my mind is moving toward an unfruitful place, dwelling on things I cannot change, I stop. I know, I know… easier said than done– but I do! I literally tell myself to STOP IT. Then I intentionally redirect my thoughts.

A good friend often reminds me to think on “WHAT ELSE COULD BE TRUE?” It’s a good question. It’s also a humbling question. There’s a degree of arrogance in believing I know exactly what is and will be best. I don’t know the future. I don’t even know all the past. I certainly don’t know all the possible outcomes.

Instead of imagining all the negative possibilities, consider the good ones. The hopeful ones. The ways that what has happened could actually produce some happy surprises.

Of course being conscious of your thoughts is easier when one is actually conscious. When it’s 3am, my defenses are low. I’m ripe for spiritual attack. This is where memorization is really helpful. I’ll focus on the words to a happy or encouraging song and sing it to myself (quietly, so as not to wake my husband). I quote verses to myself. I recite prayers I’ve known since childhood. I’ll even list the books of the Bible in order, frontwards and backwards. I PRAY. Sometimes I do math tables. Whatever it takes to get my mind out of the unhealthy rut.

If you are looking for Bible verses to memorize, here are a few that I hit in heavy rotation:

• Isaiah 40:28–31
• Matthew 11:28–30
• John 1:1–5
• Philippians 4:4–9
• Galatians 5:22–23

One more thing…

We’ve had two truths and a task. Now we have one more thing.

Judson Brewer is not a Christian, but he does place great value on faith and in peaceful, religious practices. One of the chapters in his book focuses on forgiveness. He wrote:

“Forgiveness is giving up hope of a better past.”

Sit with that thought for a minute.

Maybe all the wrestling and mental berating, knots in my stomach over things I can’t undo, are signs that I’ve not practiced forgiveness. If I’m angry about the past, chances are I’ve not accepted the past. I’m still trying to make it different. Once I accept it, though, when I release hope of a different past, then I can focus on my present. Instead of wasting time and energy regretting what’s done, I could focus on what needs to be done now. I can give my attention to the future.

I don’t want to be stuck in the past. I don’t want to be bitter. I want to forgive others. I want to forgive myself. I want to live a life of grace… toward others and myself.

So that’s what I choose to do.

It’s not a light switch. I can’t flip it and be done. But it is something I can choose each morning. Each time I wake in the middle of the night. I get to choose. And each time I mess up, I get to choose again.

And the same is true for you.

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Addendum: I don’t know when, exactly, I started writing this post; it’s been in my drafts for a long time, but because it’s been a while, I can now tell you, many months later, that I am sleeping better. I can tell you that taking control of my thoughts has helped, even liberated me a bit. In other words: what I share in this post is effective. It’s not an absolute solution for everyone, but it’s working for me.

Some will dismiss mindfulness as a “woo-woo” psychological new-age-y tactic. First, psychology is an actual science and I thank God for the researchers and practitioners who expand and use that science to help those with anxiety and other emotional and mental challenges. Second, before you dismiss mindfulness as “worldly”, consider how the Apostle Paul himself encouraged us to be disciplined with our thoughts (Philippians 4:4–9). And the author of Proverbs urged the righteous to “guard their hearts” and eyes and mouths and “give careful thought” to our steps and ways (Proverbs 4:20–27). We are called to give our anxiety to God and remain sober-minded (1 Peter 5:7-8). God cares about our thoughts. And we should too.