Panic and Anxiety Had to Go

They don’t live here anymore

There was a time when panic attacks were part of my life. I didn’t even realize how often they happened until recently, when my husband asked me, “When was the last time you woke up in the middle of the night in a panic?”

For a second, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then it hit me… It’s been so long, I almost forgot how much panic used to take over my nights.

He asked what I thought helped.
And the answer was easy. It’s been a mix of things:

• Reading the Bible — actually studying it, not just skimming

• Avoiding negative content, like certain movies, shows, or music

• But most of all, letting go

Because when you stop holding onto the parts of your life you can’t control, something changes. You breathe differently. You live in the moment, not stuck in future fears or past regrets.

For years, I didn’t know why the panic always came at night. That was supposed to be my time to rest. While my body slept, my mind didn’t. It overthought everything. Replayed conversations. Worried about what might happen, or regretted what already did.

I’d wake up gasping for air, drenched in sweat. Scared. Feeling like I didn’t deserve peace. Fighting off heavy thoughts that left me shaken and exhausted. What helped me calm myself down was thinking of someone special in my life and quietly repeating their name over and over until the panic softened.

I know it sounds weird, but it’s what helped me, even if just for a little while. It didn’t fix anything, but in those moments, it gave me something to focus on. Something that felt safe.

Back then, I didn’t pray like I do now. I didn’t talk to God about what was really going on. But when I finally let Him in, when I finally stopped trying to carry it all alone, I felt so relieved.

I look back and see the root of it all.
The stress. The striving. The emptiness. The comparison. The pressure to keep going even when I was falling apart inside. I thought I needed a change in circumstances and maybe even medication. What I really needed was to stop and surrender.

By God’s grace, I’m free. Not perfect. But free. And peaceful in a way I never thought I’d feel.

I don’t even speak those words into existence — pain, anxiety. I remember a time when they were barely mentioned. Now it feels like everyone’s throwing them around like confetti, as if it’s trendy to suffer, almost something cool to say so others will pity you.

I’m not saying it isn’t real.
I know it is.
I’ve lived it.

But I also believe words carry power. And if I keep repeating pain, that’s what I’ll keep walking into. With the help of the Holy Spirit, I don’t have to let these thoughts control me anymore.

So speak peace instead.
Speak healing. Speak joy. Speak strength.
Even when you don’t feel it yet. Not to pretend everything’s fine, but to remind yourself what you’re walking toward.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”

—2 Timothy 1:7

Love,
Darlene