I was finally able to play guitar again. For several months, my wrestle with anxiety was so severe that I was barely able to bring myself to practice. When summer came along, however, I had newfound inspiration.

For one thing, I was starting to feel a lot healthier. I had spent a great deal of time learning about anxiety and relaxation techniques. Secondly, I just had my heart broken. Even though I had fallen in love, I had to let go of her. And thirdly, I started jamming with a friend who provided newfound inspiration. Although it didn't last long, it was just enough to get me writing again. Because of anxiety, I had lost sight of my passion. It was gradually starting to come back again.

Over the course of the next few months, I wrote a lot of new material. The music began to flow again. I had felt like I was in a rut since writing material for my first album, Shipwrecked... My Sentiments in 2005. For the first time in 3 years, I had found my stride again.

Sometimes humans aren't eloquent creatures. We don't really know how to grieve. I had probably spent the last 3 years grieving over the same loss, trying to find healing on my own. I had written songs about the same frustrations. I have heard it said that we tend to recreate our past circumstances, and unless we change, that remains true.

I felt that I had a very strong collection of songs. For once, they were directly from the heart. There was nothing interfering with my ability to communicate what I was feeling.

In the subsequent months, I had the chance to get together with "the girl" a couple more times. She lived in a different city, though, and this made it a little difficult to keep in touch. On the up side, by the time I got together with her in July, I had found a great deal of healing and restoration from my anxiety and was really thankful for meeting that woman who prayed for me.

I didn't know that this was to be my last meeting with "the girl". We had texted back and forth for quite some time, but only a few texts later we fell out of touch. It could have been a conscious decision on her part to purge me from her life, or it could have been inadvertent. I still don't know.

Regardless, at 25, for the first time in my life, I had fallen in love. I had never felt anything like that before. I was hoping that it would last, so when it started to fall apart, my heart broke.

At the time I had been playing with a new band that formed in February, and the guys were also my best friends. We took a camping trip one summer weekend (at least, I think it was a weekend) and they knew I was feeling sore about the whole situation. To this point, I had already been advised to "set her free", but it wasn't until this camping trip that I was counseled to erase all her texts and contact information from my phone.

Subsequently, that's exactly what I did. She didn't seem to be responding to any of my messages, so I finally let it go. We really didn't have much of a relationship yet, but I really liked her. Regardless, my friends told me that I was going through life like a robot (merely going through the motions) and it was killing me. I didn't want to do that anymore, so I had to let it go.

It isn't easy to release those things that we love, but it's a necessary part of our journey with God.

In March, I made the decision to go to a guitar workshop in April. I wasn't particularly excited about it when the day came, but decided to drive out anyway. I had an hour and a half drive ahead of me, so I had to get up early to get there on time and sign in.

I was still feeling quite anxious that day. I remember sitting through the sessions and noticing how I would get intense tingling sensations in my legs. This set off more stress responses in my head.

At the workshop, they gave attendees the opportunity to showcase their songs in front of everyone including the instructors, organizers, and general attendees. I decided to sign up for this, as I had the year before. I wasn't particularly afraid to perform, as I had already gained a great deal of performing experience from previous years. Not to mention the fact that I played a show only a day or two after having my anxiety attack.

So I went up, performed, and got some advice from the instructors. That was the cool thing about performing in front of the audience: you got some good feedback right on the spot.

After I performed, there was a woman who went up and sang a song about healing. This seemed like a completely alien concept to me, so I decided to go and talk to her after the performance.

When everyone was done performing, they gave us a supper break. Some people still lingered in the auditorium, and among them was the woman who sang about healing. I was going to talk to her, but saw that she was busy with someone else, and I almost walked right out of the auditorium. Something stopped me and made me turn back, and I saw that she was talking to the director who I wanted to talk to anyway. I decided to walk over to where they were, and politely waited until they had finished their conversation.

In the mean time, another girl started talking to me. She asked about my CD, and I showed her one. At some point she got a phone call and walked out of the auditorium. Finally, I had the chance to talk to the woman who sang about healing.

I told her that it was "really interesting", not really sure what I meant myself. When I told her about my anxiety and how I was struggling with it, she began to quote scripture and pray for me and declared God's healing over me. I hadn't experienced anything like it. I felt like I finally understood God. All my life I had considered myself a Christian, but it wasn't until this moment that I truly believed.

Then the girl from earlier came back. She sat there and prayed with the other woman, and eventually asked for a hug. I said, "of course". In that moment, in that embrace, I honestly thought I could marry this girl. I'm not sure what it was, but I felt a connection to her.

Here's the kicker: I didn't realize until later, but all this happened on my father's birthday. Although he had passed away over 10 years earlier, it was magnificent to think that the day of my salvation fell on my father's birthday.

I began to feel a lot better. I was able to spend a little more time with the girl, and enjoy the concerts that ensued. I was sure to get her contact information before I left, and left with a sense of belonging in this lonely world.

Subsequently, I still struggled with anxiety, but I made the decision to get better. I did a great deal of research (fortunately there was a website with an abundance of information on the subject), and started to change my diet, exercise plan, and relaxation habits.

It took a lot of time, but I started to feel better and better.

I came home after lessons one night, and started feeling pain in my chest and in my left arm. These symptoms sounded familiar: a heart attack? It couldn't be... I was only 25 and although I wasn't in the best shape of my life, I wasn't terribly unhealthy either.

In either case, I decided to alert my roommates to these symptoms, and they promptly drove me to the hospital. I was extremely nervous. My heart started palpitating and I couldn't breathe. Fortunately, by the time we got to the hospital, I started to calm down a little.

When we got there and checked in, they ran a few tests on me and asked me a few questions. They checked up on me a couple of times, but emergency was busy and there weren't any doctors to see me. At 4 or 5 AM, we finally decided to head home. I had figured that it couldn't be anything serious if I wasn't priority.

When we got home, I got a little nervous about that decision. I couldn't get to sleep. I went and knocked on my roommate's door and expressed my growing concern. He said to try to get some sleep. I remember writing a final note to God and my family that night. I wasn't sure if I would live to tell of what happened.

Fortunately I was able to get some sleep, and woke up alive the next morning. I had my roommate take me to the doctor, where it was deduced that I had an anxiety attack. The news put my mind at ease, even though the doctor said that it was serious. At least it wasn't a heart problem.

I had a blood test done to make sure nothing was wrong. The results came in and they did not point to anything unusual. I felt relaxed, at least for awhile.

However, many of the symptoms persisted. If anything, they felt more intense than before. I made several trips to the doctor, but they couldn't find anything wrong with me.

Some days I felt a bit better, and some days I felt a bit worse. Ultimately, I couldn't really seem to escape it. I was living in a cloud of anxiety. I sought out help, but I hadn't made a decisive course of action yet.

At the end of 2007, I made a New Year's resolution of sorts. I decided that I would start getting up earlier to pursue my passions. On January 1st I got up at 6 AM, and continued to do so for a couple of months. Unfortunately, I found myself tired all the time, and wasn't getting enough rest.

At the time, I was teaching guitar 3 days a week. In my spare time, I would write new music, read self-development material, and wrote articles for my website. I made a point of reading Steve Pavlina material, as I had discovered his work in October 2007 and rather liked it.

I think it was Pavlina that inspired me to get up earlier in the first place. In hindsight, I had mistaken his calling as my own. I had thought it was my purpose to pursue writing and self-development as passionately as Pavlina had. Despite having spent the last 7 to 8 years pursuing a career in music, I got a little sidetracked. In retrospect I can see that I wanted what Pavlina had: a passion and purpose. However, I had mistaken his calling for mine.

I think what I related to most with Pavlina was the idea that we could make conscious decisions. Our life wasn't merely the meeting place for a random series of events, but rather a consequence of choices that we had made. It helped me to realize that I did had some control over my own life. For many years I did not believe that there was anything I could do to change or improve my life and here was someone telling me that I could.

In any case, it got me motivated. I wrote new articles for my website every weekday. However, I was beginning to find that my schedule was a little unrealistic. I was trying to juggle several projects at the same time, and I wasn't making progress where I thought it mattered. I started having migraines with increased frequency. Although I had experienced migraines in previous years, at various junctures, it was the first time I really started to fear them. They hurt so much, and there was usually very little I could do about them.

I was starting to get stressed. I was trying to do too much.