Jesus and Panic Attacks
Blinking. Blinking.
Seventies blue tile came into focus. I was laying on the bathroom floor.
Breathe. I instructed my thoughts. Just breathe.
The last thing I remembered was standing in the bathroom, talking to Matt about the results of our last ultrasound, pointing to the possibility that Finley was going to have special needs.
“It could be anything from Cystic Fibrosis, to Cerebral Palsy, to Downs. Or it could be nothing.” I related to Matt once more what the ultrasound technician had rattled off like she was diagnosing a broken down car.
Matt brings me a glass of water and sits with me, praying words of strength and courage over my heart and for healing over sweet Finley growing in my womb.
“I cannot be a special needs mom and a church planter’s wife.” Confessing my fears, tears spill down my cheeks. Overwhelming guilt threatens to choke me. I am the biggest believer in Matt and the call God has on both of us. If we became special needs parents, I was deeply afraid that I would be the one to crush the dream God had given us.
“We are going to take this one day at a time. If God is closing the door to Chicago, He will make that clear and I am willing to lay it down. You are more important.” He reassured me. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for this man who sat beside me on our cold, tile floor.
Shock, panic and grief had invaded and stolen the joy of the arrival of our baby girl growing in my womb. Grasping at any information that would give me an answer, I wanted to be prepared, to have the right expectations. But there was no way to know for certain. Only time would tell.
Since the ultrasound, panic attacks had become like an unwanted house guest that has you questioning and scrutinizing every aspect of your life. I was in unfamiliar territory.
Ask 18-year-old Heather if she would ever have a panic attack and she probably would have laughed and asked, “what is a panic attack!?” Once defined, she would have grown serious, “I am not an anxious person. I don’t think I would ever have a panic attack.”
18-year-old me lived to dance and road trip and do whatever Jesus wanted her to do. Happy-go-lucky. I was an emotional stuffer who would later in life learn that avoiding challenging emotions would play a hand in leading to anxiety and depression. Learning to voice the emotions I believed to be “bad” would be the starter tool that God would use to help me walk in freedom.
Before I had experienced panic attacks myself, I knew they were serious, but I had no idea how crippling and surprising they could be. One can be having a completely normal day, nothing seemingly wrong and then something happens, you get triggered and your brain starts communicating to your body that it is dying. Shortness of breath and fear would grip my body and mind, shutting down all reason. I would collapse as the strength was sucked from my body. Hence, laying on the bathroom floor in this particular circumstance.
Can you relate? If you can, let me say right now-I see you. More importantly, God sees you. He is with you.
Sitting in my counselor’s office after two or three panic attacks had transpired, I poured out all of the fear in my heart about the possibility of becoming a special needs parent. I didn’t know how I would do it. I was terrified. Sharing with her soothed my heart. Exposing our darkest fears is like shining a light into a cave, illuminating light pushing back darkness.
“We can’t be 100% sure, but when Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane, crying out to his Father to change the plan, he was sweating drops of blood-sweating blood is something that points to a panic attack and deep grief. “ My counselor shared. “Jesus understands what you are going through.”
My heart dropped into my stomach and tears immediately filled my eyes. Sitting in her oversized chair, head down, hands in my lap, the God of the universe stepped into the room. It was as if he took my lowered face in his hands, lifted my eyes to his and said, “I get it, I see you.”
Nothing had changed yet everything had changed.
I still did not have answers. The grief was still there. But Jesus personally, emotionally, spiritually and physically understood.
Hope began to seep into my heart. The beautiful, life-giving light of Jesus shone brightly in the face of my fears that day.
You and I may not have the same story, but let me encourage you. Jesus understands. Whatever you are going through, however alone you may feel, Jesus is with you. He is interceding for you. He has stood where you stand. Feel his hands on your lowered face, gently raising your gaze to meet his. Pour out your grief and pain to him. He is with you. Not the version of you who seems to have it all together (because none of us do.) He invites the messy, unfiltered, anxious, depressed you to step into his light, just as you are.
“For we do not have a high priest (Jesus) who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:15-16
