Mikail´e Bester

I’M NOT SURE WHEN OR HOW IT STARTED, but I remember my eldest son being 13 months old and realising that I was mentally tired from over-anticipation. I saw the potential danger in everything he touched or attempted to do. I thought I was simply being a good first-time mom, so diligently looking out for him, teaching him what to be aware of or careful for. Until one morning that I realised I was struggling not to see danger lurking behind every corner. I was not constantly fearful, but I was just acutely aware of everything that could go wrong and trying to manage every scenario was exhausting.

I called one of our pastoral couples and went to see them for prayer. As I had suffered two miscarriages before Matthew, I thought my fears of something happening to him stemmed from that. We prayed together; I felt immense relief and moved on.

Eleven months later, Luke was born. From the outside looking in and on a practical level, I was fine. In fact, I was more than fine. I was coping well on my own with two small children, as we live far away from any immediate family, and my husband was regularly travelling for work. I ran my household effectively and seamlessly, and I was actively involved in leading in my local church.

Mentally, though, I was suffering. I had an immense desire to be in control of every possible aspect of our lives— to minimize risk, to eliminate the unexpected. Everything had to be in order all the time for me to function optimally. I was overly organised, overly prepared, overthinking the smallest details. At times my thoughts were so irrational that I worried that people would judge me or think less of me if they could see into my mind. And so I kept quiet and soldiered on; after all, everyone was taken care of, and all was functioning well. I had a two-year-old toddler and an infant feeding every two hours around the clock, and so I simply put my struggle down to sleep deprivation.

When Luke was 3 months old, we travelled to the UK for Joe’s work for almost three months. Travelling extensively with two small children, and all the additional ‘risk’ we were exposed to was stressful, and three months later, I was at a breaking point. I felt like a stranger to myself, and I did not like the person I was becoming. The situation was robbing me of my spontaneity and my joy. I ended up seeing a psychologist on our return from the UK, who diagnosed me with Post-natal Anxiety. The diagnosis explained all my symptoms, and I was relieved to know that I was not losing it after all. It was mainly hormonerelated, and as soon as I stopped breastfeeding and was rid of all my pregnancy hormones, things would look up. I was not ready to stop breastfeeding, though, and knew that I would have to walk this out. I felt that it had to be a faith journey, and so I resisted medication and further psychological help.

I was praying, quoting scriptures, resisting the devil, aligning my thoughts with God and the word, and yet, the struggle was real. I was sitting on my bed one day, asking God why healing and victory were just not coming. I would have times where I felt completely fine and in control, only to have stretches where I felt like my world was spinning. I felt the Holy Spirit say to me that He could just heal me…but He wasn’t going to. I felt God say that just healing me would relieve me of my symptoms, but if I let Him, He was going to teach me stuff about Him and His nature, about myself, and people on my road to healing. God’s heart for us is not to suffer, but He is more interested in our character than our comfort. I surrendered to the process. And so my journey started of trusting God in spite of… in spite of what the media said, in spite of what the world or circumstances dictated, despite the unrest raging in my heart and mind. And things started to change. Peace that transcends understanding was my portion because honestly, the world was no less dangerous and at times, I felt no less overwhelmed by the war within me. Yet, I knew that He was good and that His plans for me and family were good. Slowly but surely, I was making my way up the mountain.

Toward the end of my third pregnancy, I knew enough to recognise Peri-natal anxiety when it set on. I sat with my husband one night and cried my eyes out as I felt I was in constant ‘fight and flight’ mode again, and the relapse made me feel like an absolute failure. I was confessing and professing, encouraging people around me, but I couldn’t keep it together myself.

After Emmi’s birth, I was again diagnosed with PNA, and medication was prescribed. I felt like a complete failure spiritually and otherwise and was bitterly disappointed to be back here again. Although the PNA was much worse after Luke and I had carried on without medication, I was so tired of working so incredibly hard to keep it all together, that I knew something had to give. I now had three small children and a husband travelling more than before, and all-round the number of strings I had to pull together had increased.

In His kindness, God just so happened to have Joe tune in to an interview on the radio talk show that he listened to driving home every day, with a woman who had worked through PNA. He approached me with so much compassion and understanding, and together we decided I would go on medication. Light enough to continue breastfeeding Emmi, but to afford me some relief otherwise. I felt like I did not have enough faith to walk it out with God, and medication was a cop-out. Aware of the stigma that goes with any kind of mental condition and medicine, I felt such shame. I felt unfit to lead in the areas where I was walking a road with other women and was convinced that people would think less of me if they knew. But I pushed through and bravely shared with my me2 group, who were already aware of my struggle, where I was now at. The judgement I was expecting did not come; instead, I was loved on and supported in ways that, like so many other times in my life, demonstrated how important it is to be planted and surrounded.

One of the best analogies offered to me by a dear friend was that when you break your leg, you use a crutch until it heals. The crutch, like the medication in this case, is not what heals the break, but it definitely helps to facilitate the healing process. This was so freeing to hear. I was not turning to medication for healing, God would be my deliverance, but it was ok to use a ‘crutch’ to take the weight of my ‘leg’ as it healed. As the medication began to come into effect, everything I had to work so hard on to keep together started happening more naturally. As those struggles started to fall away, it was so much easier to approach the situation from a place of victory, instead of defeat. God was parting the sea for me, making it possible for me to walk through the situation, without fear of it engulfing me.

The judgement I was expecting did not come; instead, I was loved on and supported in ways that, like so many other times in my life, demonstrated how important it is to be planted and surrounded.

As promised, God has revealed so much to me in this process. He has taught me how to make bold moves, despite what I feel, to wholly rely on Him, trusting in His nature and character, His faithfulness and goodness. To stand on the promises in His word. And thus, despite overwhelming anxiety at times, God has enabled me, and His Holy Spirit empowered me, to pack up my house and my three small children and move to a foreign country for a year. A year where very little has gone to plan, where we were hit by a global pandemic and have been separated from all that we know and love for longer than ever anticipated. (An entire story all in itself) . Yet God has sustained me, carried me, His Holy Spirit, my voice of reason amid chaos. His love ever-constant amid all the change. He is good. He is kind. I have learnt what it is to be separate, but not alone. To look to Him alone in all things, amid one of the loneliest and most challenging years of my life, so that even in the hardship, there has been joy and blessing.

In this process, God has taught me to approach others with so much more grace and love. Giving me so much more compassion, understanding, insight, and tolerance for others’ circumstances and situations. Despite what you see, you never know what battles someone else may be fighting. As believers, we are called to encourage one another and build each other up. (1 Thess 5:11) . We are to love one another, as He loves us (John 13:34) , without judgement or condition. Struggling with something or walking something out does not disqualify you, does not lessen your worth in the Kingdom. If you are willing to allow God to use you, despite your process, then nothing is for nothing in the Kingdom. As I have refused to let this define me, or allow it to stigmatise and shame me into silence, I have had the privilege of sharing with others and walking a road with people who have had similar struggles. Even though it has been discouraging at times to walk this road, I have watched God work even this together for my good as He promises in His word. And I know He who has begun this good work in me, is faithful to bring it to completion…for His glory.

— Recently relocated back from Bath, England to Paarl, South Africa, where she and her husband Joe are part of the Eldership Team at Paarl Family Church.