"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.  My parents hoped it was a phase. It wasn't. In fact, by first grade I was so often afraid that I missed 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 suggest that fear of daily weather activities is one of the top on the incredibly inconvenient list and, thus, every week I would spend a couple days 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 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.

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 years longer without impulsively choosing to take my own life. I was ashamed so I didn't tell anyone at the time.

In eighth grade I 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."

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 is conquered by the grace of God.