When you’re dread locked, practice this

This essay was first published on The Daily BS on October 3, 2025.

It’s a precious milestone that’s worthy of a grand celebration. Next week will mark five years of sobriety for our oldest son.

I have shared his story here and on the James Golden Radio Show in the past, so I will not recount it again. Suffice it to say that after a years-long spiral into the world of drug addiction that culminated in homelessness, he finally hit his nadir, his long-awaited rock bottom, and he returned to God and to us.

It was a conversation with a friend this week that sparked a remembrance. For the last 12 months, she and her husband have been rocked by one calamity after another. Unspeakably hard things have come their way, all in the same calendar year. It’s been a Parade of Awful, and we who love them feel impotent, helpless to make it better for them.

“Somehow, we’re still standing, but my body is paying the price,” she said. “I keep bracing myself because I can’t let my guard down, you know?” And I did know. I sure did know what she meant.

“Dread locked.” That was the phrase that came to me as I thought back over those years with our son. Year upon year, we, too, were forced spectators in a Parade of Awful, helpless and impotent to stop it.

Our physical bodies took a stiff beating from over a decade of chronic stress. Too, we were emotionally and mentally exhausted from doing just what she described, bracing for the next disaster, the next phone call, the next emergency, dreading every one.

Dread locked.

When we are locked in this position, it’s hard to think straight. It’s hard to see clearly, and it’s virtually impossible to rest. We stumble through our days, lost in a cloud of exhaustion and confusion, longing for relief that doesn’t come. Everything hurts. I know.

There were two things that saw us through that dark and hellish time: our faith and our friends. In the fog of war, it’s important to have trustworthy people in one’s inner circle who are full of love and wisdom. Love applies salve to the wounds, and wisdom speaks the truth that we may not be able to see. Such loving friendship is the hand that reaches into a raging sea and helps you back into the boat.

In the furnace, our faith not only kept us afloat, but it grew exponentially. It was our lifeline to the Source of all power, strength, and comfort. Though flesh and blood had turned from God and from us, we never turned away from either, and that faith was richly rewarded.

My beloved husband struggled with despair. Somehow, I knew that I could not join him there. Despair was too costly. It was a price I could not pay, so when he would voice it, I learned to say the truth. “There’s no actual reason for despair. It only looks like it.” I refused to come out of that position.

There did come a day when I had to stop thinking about my son; where he was, who he was with, what he was doing. The mere thought of him would throw me into a spiral of fear. For the sake of my own peace and wellbeing, and because I still had others who were depending on me, I had to put him out of my mind. But I never put him out of my heart.

As I practiced letting go of my fear and dread, peace began to return to my heart. Even as we waited for a miracle, I was able to enjoy my life, finding hilarity in the everyday moments, finding joy in the simple things. I was able to savor the time with our sons who were still with us and time with their blue-eyed dad. That peace alone was supernatural, and I knew it.

Recalling what happened just this past spring brings my husband to tears every time he tells it. “Five years ago, he was on the streets. On Easter Sunday, he was preaching.”

As I write, that now-strapping, healthy, happy, productive son of ours is taking classes. He wants to become an ordained minister. We are overjoyed and grateful beyond words for his transformation and for his life. Most poignantly, he received what is possibly the greatest compliment in the history of ever from his littlest brother who said, after watching Big Brother’s sermon on YouTube, “He did a great job!” And he meant it.

Looking back, I survived those years by staying connected with good people, including my own spouse, and with God. In countless hours of meditation, prayer, and conversations with trusted people and by practicing the release of dread and fear, I slowly found my way to lasting peace and joy. Dread, after all, could not keep me locked. It had to loosen its grip, and I traded it in for Hope.

Now, you. If you find yourself locked in dread, bracing for the next disaster or emergency, I invite you to lean into your own wise, loving people. Let them be the hands that lift you back into the boat.

Cultivate loving, caring relationships. We are wired for connection, and at no time do we feel the need so keenly as when we are in distress.

Practice, as I did, releasing dread and fear and reaching instead for Hope. Through prayer and meditation, lay hold of the Source of all the strength and power you shall need.

Close your ears to the voice of despair. By faith, use your own voice to say aloud, “There’s no actual reason for despair. It only looks like it.” Because it’s true, and my firstborn son bears the witness.