Panic Attack--Part 3

To see part 2 of this story, click here.

At the height of the panic cycle, I spent many days pacing our unfinished addition, staring out the generous windows, searching the sky for hope and crying out loud to God.

I called a close friend and whispered, “I need…help.”

“How can I help?” She offered, alarmed but sympathetic.

“I can’t take care of my children. I love them, but I can’t handle their questions—meet their needs.”

“I’m coming. As soon as I can get away, I’ll be there.”

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After solemn good-byes, she ushered my heritage into her mini-van and I watched their mixed expressions fade into the sunset. Yes! I do love them!

For weeks I cycled in and out of reality. My husband grappled for anything that seemed to offer hope and noticed how my previous confession relieved my nerves. When I had particular trouble, he closed the door to our room and asked, “Is there anything else you should confess?” He began probing with painful questions, and I answered with the naked truth. After confessing the “big things” why should I hold back? After experiencing a measure of relief, why would I want to keep anything hidden? Every hidden sin equaled ten volts on my overstressed system. Every confession relieved the overload a little further.

I had been lying to myself. I called myself a believer. I loved to pray and I loved God’s word, but I had reserved a little corner of my soul for myself. Like bruised fruit, the bad flesh had been spreading. I finally woke up and saw the truth. The whole apple was bad. God had me now by the scruff of the neck, holding me on the brink of the pit of hell. He wanted me to experience the searing heat. He compelled me to look into the gaping mouth of the chasm that will never be satisfied as long as believers walk the earth. Maybe I knew about God, but did I know enough about hell? God didn’t think so. He wanted me to feel the fire so that I would desire Him. He wanted me to seek Him and know him intimately. He wanted my whole heart.

I spent days and weeks in and out of reality, finding relief not only in confession. Two friends who were self-studied experts in nutrition nursed my frazzled frame back to physical balance as I learned that my problem had spiritual, emotional, and nutritional causes—and implications. God, the designer of my body, allowed sin, poor eating habits and stress to drive me to this panic state so I would run to Him.