If you’re not one who suffers from panic attacks yourself, chances are you know someone who is, even if you aren’t aware of their struggle. Take it from someone who knows, they are one of the greatest weapons in the enemy’s arsenal. They come on fast and hard, and can rarely be anticipated. To use one of my husband’s phrases, it’s a mental and emotional ambush. I am blessed to have a man at my side who is able support and love me through these ambushes when they overtake me. People with anxiety and panic are often the proverbial ducks on a pond…gliding on top, but all kicking and thrashing beneath the surface.

While I’ve always had a bit of a struggle with anxiety, it wasn’t until I was at the end of my tour in Iraq that panic started attacking me. I remember the first attack as if it happened this morning, instead of years ago. Our unit was in the midst of one of many end of deployment briefings, this one with the base Chaplin. He was telling us some of the things we might struggle with as we reintegrate with our families, friends, and civilian lives back home. He reminded us that, while we were away, life for those we left behind had to carry on. New routines had to be established, and adjustments to our absence had to be made. He advised us that it would take time for our families and friends to readjust, and also how important it was for us to try and not feel hurt because we aren’t a part of those routines or because our loved ones managed to carry on successfully without our help.

Somehow, something in his words that day triggered a deep fear in me…one that, to this day, I don’t understand. One minute I was sitting in the middle of my army brothers and sisters, and the next minute I was sitting on the cold, concrete floor of our storage room, knees hugged up to my chest, heart racing a mile a minute, shaking all over, breath short, and feeling as though I was going to rattle apart from the inside out. One of my closest battle buddies had seen me flee the room, and followed behind me. There she was, knelt in front of me, a look of deep concern and understanding – this was her third or fourth deployment – covering every inch of her face. She was the one who was able to tell me what I was going through in that moment.

Since then I have become quite familiar with how my panic looks and feels, and I’m usually pretty good at keeping it reigned in. Still, I am not immune to the ambushes. I pray frequently for the Lord’s protection and comfort. I know that my propensity for anxiety and panic is something the adversary wields against me, often quite effectively. You may be wondering why I’ve delved into all of this…the short answer is that I want to be sure people understand that more of us suffer from these kinds of challenges than anyone might guess. I also want those out there who suffer to know they aren’t alone.

One thing I have learned in my walk with panic attacks is that they can’t be allowed to control me. God has helped me learn how to move forward in the face of an attack. He blessed me with a sister who understands them, and who shows me how to turn my mind and take hold of my thoughts. For me, this often comes in the form of prayer. You see, where God lives, Satan cannot. Where light shines, shadows disappear. God has never left me alone with my panic. I may have given in to it, and allowed the darkness to crowd out the light, but that wasn’t God leaving me…it was me failing to reach out and take hold of His proffered hand.

If you find yourself struggling in the dark, facing a mental or emotional ambush, know that God is there with you. Know that He has felt what you are feeling, and He will never leave you alone with any of it. But He’ll never force you to accept His love and comfort. He’ll never force you to take the path He wants you to follow. I can assure you, though, that His path will always be the one that leads you to the light and blessings only He can offer.