"There is nothing to be afraid of."

"There is nothing to be afraid of."

"We're safe, it's okay."

"Rain can't hurt me, this is normal."

"There is nothing to be afraid of."

"Be anxious about nothing."

Repeat. Breathe out. Repeat.

I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder and panic disorder, related
to wind and rain, as a kindergartener but at the time, my parents hoped it was merely
a phase. It wasn't. In fact, by first
grade I was so often afraid that I missed at least half of the school days
despite perpetual efforts of my parents and teachers. Clouds, even relatively friendly
ones, made my heart race because I knew that a storm could come. Of all
phobias, I'd say that fear of daily weather activities is incredibly inconvenient
and every week there would be a couple days that I would spend miserably afraid.

Have you ever really panicked? Not shock-panicked but
think-it-through-and-truely-believe-you-are-about-to-die-panicked?

You heart pumps fast, really fast. You breathe so quickly
that your entire body goes numb after a minute, tingling at best. Your hands
clench into fists and you cannot open them. Your back won't straighten properly,
your knees lock. Your stomach heaves but you are breathing so fast that you can't
throw up. Vision blurs, head pounds, time moves really slowly and you can hear
every sound. Maybe very single raindrop, every particle of wind rushing against
the siding, the door creaking or perhaps just the rustling of leaves. But your
mind can't go that fast, you can't
understand each noise, you are out of
control. The strange thing is that I don't even hate that feeling so much,
it's familiar and almost okay. I hate that I could tell myself with confidence
that there was nothing to be afraid of and my body was still convinced that I
was going to die - but much worse somehow, as I'm not and wasn't really afraid
to die.

At eight, I was put on adult-strength antidepressants, not
ideal but certainly an answer to prayer for my parents who desperately wanted
to help me. They made a big difference, but the battle was so far from over. I
missed out on camps, sports and playing with friends. My life was one literal storm
after the next.

In sixth grade, out of my own sheer determination I stopped
taking any medications. At first little changed but slowly I became depressed
and anxious about everything - my body, fires, floods and storms. I read on a
website that teen depression usually subsided by 16. I remember laying on my
bedroom floor for hours at a time, doing nothing, thinking that there was
absolutely no way that I could ever live for 4 more years without impulsively
choosing to take my own life. I was ashamed so I didn't tell anyone at the
time.

In eighth grade I went back to low dose medication and
discovered that there was so much to live for. I remember telling my mom one
day, totally out of character, that I knew why I was afraid; Satan was trying
to stop me because I was going to make a difference in the world. I remember
being surprised by the words that had come out of my mouth, but it reminded me
that God had been with me since the beginning; when as a little kid I audibly
heard God say to me, "Don't be afraid."

For a year and a half now I have been medication-free and so
happy! I learned, at age seventeen, what it feels like to be at peace and I am
stronger because of what I've conquered. That is my redemption! One day last
year I was walking home from school and was crossing a bridge which I had
nicknamed (in my mind) 'temptation bridge.' With a skinny sidewalk wedged
between a busy road on one side and a long drop to a highway on the other,
Satan liked to meet me there and give me ideas when I walked passed it. I had
gotten into the habit of praying from the time it came into sight until I was
on the other side. I felt this overwhelming peace mid-bridge, although I had no
particular struggle at the time, and I literally danced and sang down the
sidewalk for a few blocks. Fear was done in my life by the grace of God.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following is an addition to the story because in honesty
I don't want to leave this out, and it is important, but it is not meant to be
a part of my blog in terms of the assignment.

This morning (Thursday) I coincidentally had a panic attack
for the first time in a couple years. I woke up feeling unusually anxious and
uneasy, as although anxiety is a familiar feeling, I hadn't felt it for so
long. I knew something was wrong from the start and as I left for school a
storm hit (keep in mind that aside from rare funnel clouds, storms where I live
are never particularly dangerous). I started panicking and I cried angrily
because I didn't want to start this trend again. In the past it has never
happened just once. The few times that fear had started up again it stayed for
years. I COULDN'T DO IT AGAIN! My mom was dropping me off at school, so she,
obviously concerned by my craziness, became involved. We had stopped in the
parking lot across from my school and I lost it. Satan told me so many lies in
that moment. I actually verbalized that, "I couldn't ever go on a missions trip
because I would be afraid," that, "I couldn't fight this," and even that "God
couldn't help me again!" I thought I knew better, I thought I would be able to
fight back strong if I was scared again but I didn't feel like it at that moment.
I said that I knew that God has power over all evil and that if I told fear to
leave me in his name and believed that it would, that I would be at peace. I
asked my mom to pray for me because in my adrenaline-filled mind I could barely
make sense. She told me that she didn't have enough faith, and at that point,
my heart broke too - my back-up plan shattered. I wasn't thinking clearly and
chose to run into my school (I was there for track practice an ninety minutes
early, so the halls were empty) for 'safety.' I hid in the bathroom and tried
to pray. I called my dad at work and told him I needed help. He prayed and I believed
that God would change everything in that moment, but He didn't.

My mind swirled crazily. I knew that if I stayed there, in
hiding, that the storm would pass. When it was quiet outside my heart would
slow down and I could try to move on, but I've done that a thousand times and
the next time there was a storm I would be afraid again. I would check the
weather report every hour, listen for every noise, be filled with anxiety every
day. I COULDN'T let that happen. I was never going to let this control me.
NEVER. I'm not sure that I had ever been that afraid after knowing what peace
and joy actually feel like, and the prospect that all that goodness, the beauty
in everyday, could be gone again was devastating. I walked to the door;
praying, pleading, crying, hoping that something, anything, would happen.
Somehow I knew what needed to be done. I went outside and started walking,
panicked by the wind, around the side of the school. A large hill sits behind
my school that overlooks a lot of the city and the side doors open near the top
of it. I started to walk up the last few metres of the hill. The wind blew full
force and made each step heavy. A tarp blew in the wind somewhere in the
distance and the sound overwhelmed me. I started praying out loud. I'm usually
pretty quite at school, I hate standing out or making a scene but in my
desperation my thoughts became a yell that surprised me. "Jesus," I shouted in
a raspy plea. I told all evil to get out of my life and never come back, that I
was a child of God and I could not be touched and that I would not be moved.

I had this image in my mind of a huge black tornado-cloud in
front of me, one I've pictured often. I tried with everything that I had to
push on the cloud but it engulfed everything around me and depicted complete
overwhelm. The cloud dissolved and moved right through my fingers and grasped
me and shook me. Even writing this unnerves me. Then God came, like a white net
and just pushed the cloud away from me. The cloud raged and violently ripped at
the net but it was held away with force.

I stopped panicking. The trees were still bent to the side,
the clouds still dark. I was nervous, but not terrified. I said in my mind that
Satan can try but that God would overcome. At that moment a harder gust blew
and the tarp that had terrified me a minute earlier rattled full force, but I
wasn't afraid. I was free.

All day has been hard. After panicking your body is exhausted
and on edge. I felt like I was dreaming a few times; a rush of adrenaline would
come over me as if it was the Day After Tomorrow outside but I reasoned with
myself and for the most part it was okay. To be honest, I'm afraid it will
happen again. That black cloud is held back, but still is in sight. I feel like
it's creeping closer. So, I suppose, I could use a little prayer help because
this is bigger than something I can battle on my own. I know God will overcome
though.