The Journey
The big red letters glowing in the evening sky said "WESTERN MEDICAL CENTER." As I walked to the check-in desk to report severe chest pain, shortness of breath, sweating and shooting pain down my left side, I thought, "This feels like a heart attack. I must be dying."
An attendant led me to an emergency room bed and hooked me up to a heart monitor. Listening to the waves and rhythmic chirp coming from the machine, it occurred to me that I couldn't decipher what was happening to my own body. I had never before felt this strange sensation, and I was flooded with raw fear and anxiety. My heart kept pounding and pounding.
It seemed like an eternity before the doctor came, asked a few questions and began to check my heart. I was frantic. I felt like I was drowning waves crashing over me, gasping for breath, the powerful current tossing me helplessly against jagged rocks. Fear was taking my breath and life away.
Eventually, the "heart attack" eased slightly. The doctor couldn't find anything wrong. Somehow, I drove myself home and lay awake most of the night waiting for impending doom to strike again. It did. The next day, the chest pains and "heart attack" symptoms were back, and I drove myself to the hospital. The wait to see the doctor was unbearable. But this doctor was different. After checking things out, he explained that I was not having a heart attack, but a "panic attack." He suggested I see a psychiatrist and gave me a prescription to calm me down. I thought he was wrong, but I was thankful that the anti-anxiety medication took the edge off and helped me sleep.
Anxiety disorders
This experience probably sounds familiar to those who suffer from panic attacks. When an episode hits, the anxiety and fear seem overwhelming. According to the American Psychiatric Association, an estimated 19 million adult Americans suffer from anxiety disorders.1
It took many years of searching to find the cause of these physical and emotional symptoms, the source of which I was reluctant to admit but thankful to discover. Most people have fear and anxiety from time to time, but when they impair your ability to function, they become paralyzing.
The awakening
Before the "heart attack" episode, I was convinced that my health problems headaches, insomnia, depression, nausea and memory loss, to name a few were the result of a neurological disease and not just "in my head." But a strange incident helped me come to an understanding of those symptoms. I prayed, asking God to help me. Turning on my car radio, I heard someone talking about anxiety and panic attacks. The remedy: counseling. The next day, I was in my car spinning the radio dial again. On another station they were talking about anxiety and panic attacks. The treatment? Again, counseling. I decided to check out counseling.
The road to recovery
This counseling stuff was strange paying someone to listen to me. But week after week, month after month, I told Keith about my life, my overwhelming fear and the big knot in my stomach. We explored everything.
We spent time on my family and my past. I discovered I had a strong sense of shame not that I had done something wrong, but that there was something wrong with me. I felt broken and worthless.
Where did the fear come from? I told Keith about violent nightmares that started when I was 7 years old. The nightmares had changed somewhat, but I still had them on a weekly basis, and I would wake up shaken. Sometimes, I would be drowning. Other times someone would be choking me, and I couldn't breathe. Most of the time, a gang of men tried to kill me as I ran for my life. I could not shake the traumatizing fear. I would ball up in a corner and watch the clock and window anxiously waiting, tick by tick, for the men to kill me before sunlight came through the window. Each excruciating night, I stuffed fear upon fear.
Keith and I also explored times and places where I was happy. One of these was "the backyard," a scene from the first house of my childhood: great for running, jumping, climbing trees and flying kites. It was a safe place, free from fear, and I was fully alive! I journaled about "the backyard," attempting to quell the overwhelming fear and terror.
Drowning in the storm
The anxiety and panic were killing me, however. My life was out of control, and I couldn't get a handle on it. I was afraid that I would lose my job and that my whole life would come tumbling down. I had hit the wall, and I felt powerless. Fear and anxiety would emerge out of nowhere and consume me. I had a hard time carrying on a normal conversation. I longed for peace, screaming for God to help me.
The critic
One of the first obstacles I encountered was the "critic." After seeing a documentary about a successful treatment program for anorexic women, I learned that as part of their therapy, the women journaled the inner dialog of their thoughts. They wrote of the disdain and contempt of an inner critic. And writing letters and talking about the critic's messages was the turning point for many of them.
I read a book about this inner critic and journaled the words I heard: "You piece of trash!"; "You bumbling idiot!"; "You're stupid!"; "You're weak!" The fear invoked by such messages would shake me to my core, bringing back the terror of the nightmares all over again. I felt oppressed, angry and hopeless. The book told me to embrace my inner critic and try to understand him. But the more I tried to do that, the more overpowering he became. Finally, a friend told me about his struggle with his own critic and recommended The Bondage Breaker.2
This book contained Bible passages about God's loving care, and I re-read those verses and affirmations almost every day for over five years. The readings were my lifeline. Only God's messages had power over the inner critic. I would recite the Bible passages, and within minutes, my emotions would go from drowning in terror to floating above the waves and being able to breathe again. What a godsend €¦ I was astounded by the change! I realized that the fears were lies. God's absolute truth was and is a great liberator over the oppression of the critic.3
Powerless
Deciding that recovery meant going through the pain to get to the other side, I started on a headlong pursuit of emotional recovery. I read every book and attended every seminar I could find, and I went to intensive group weekend conferences with people working through tremendous childhood trauma. I was determined to find the source of my violent nightmares.
As I worked through layer upon layer of fear, my memory, sleep, and mental abilities slowly came back. Dan Allender's book The Wounded Heart helped me explore a range of emotions experienced by abuse victims: shame, contempt, powerlessness, guilt and betrayal.4 Although I never uncovered any abuse, I could relate to the feelings experienced by abuse victims, particularly powerlessness. As the critic's messages would pound me, I felt powerless. I longed for validation. Like a loving father giving positive messages to his child, I told myself, "It's OK"; "You're doing fine"; "I love you just the way you are"; "Your views are valuable." These affirming words helped, but they didn't have power over the critic like the Bible passages did.
Forgiveness
One of the most effective things we can do to relieve our internal anger is to forgive. I had held feelings of hurt and betrayal for decades. I thought I had forgiven people, but when a memory would surface, a knife would twist in my gut. Once, in a Focus on the Family radio broadcast entitled, "Finding True Forgiveness," I heard R.T. Kendall approach forgiveness in a way I had never heard before.5 I learned to forgive someone even when they didn't deserve it or ask for it, as described by David Meece in another Focus broadcast.6 I struggled with not wanting to forgive. I wanted to hang on to my anger, but it was eating me alive. Meanwhile, those who had hurt me didn't even have a clue. I made a decision to let go and give my hurt and anger to God. This gave me a channel for hurt and anger to be released.
Moving on
The 13 years of my journey have led me through an inward path of discovery exposing dark places in my soul and experiencing light. I've learned to challenge and confront my fears. Without journeying through the darkness, I never would have grown in my appreciation of the gift of light. The light I speak of is that of a creator God, a gentle and loving Father who can unlock doors and heal pain. I can only lay before Him the books of my life that I cannot open, the problems I cannot solve, the pain I can't overcome, and the anger I can't release. Alcoholics Anonymous describes this as giving control to a power greater than ourselves.7
Do I still struggle with anxiety and fear? I wish I could say no, but at times, I do. I am still in process. The good news is, I don't find myself drowning very often anymore. And when I do, I have invaluable tools to help me get air and breathe again. I hope and pray that my story may help if and when you feel you're drowning.
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