FREE Download - Jan Johnson

the time so I could become more spiritual. I followed people's advice to "claim the victory," but
the victory eluded me every time.
I felt completely alone. It seemed that no one, including God, could reach inside me and
calm the craziness there. I had no answers, only questions, and I was giving up hope that I
could regain control. I went through three years of soul searching -- tears, fear, prayer, suicidal
thoughts, failed relationships and advice from well-meaning friends.
I ended up going to a perceptive Christian counselor who asked me about my childhood.
The more we talked, the more I saw that my panic attacks were due to repressed pain from
growing up in an alcoholic family. I knew that my parents had struggled with alcohol, but I
thought I had put behind me the things of the past and been spared that pain. In fact, I thought
that because of my difficulties growing up, I was tougher and more skilled at dealing with
anything or anyone in life. I thought, I couldn't be having panic attacks. They happen to other
people, not to me.
As I went to counseling and support groups, I learned how vulnerable and human I really
was. I realized, much to my relief, that I was not alone. There were others like me who had
gone through similar experiences even though they didn't grow up in an alcoholic family. I
talked about my feelings of growing up, feeling responsible for taking care of my mom
emotionally, and how that affected me even today. I felt relieved when I discovered the attacks
didn't mean I was crazy. They represented old patterns that needed attention and re-adjustment.
During my attacks, I began to reach out to others instead of isolating myself. Sometimes I
called other people on the telephone and talked as best I could. As painful as the attacks were, I
eventually began to sense that God loved me. He was allowing the pain to come out of my
subconscious mind. I trusted that He knew what I was ready to remember.
Even after several years, these attacks still occur at times. I see them as warnings that I feel
isolated and that I need to talk about a problem. They show me that I'm once again trying to be
too many things to too many people.
Jan's Journey
Imagine for a moment a whiz-kid pastor's wife who teaches Bible studies, sponsors teens,
sings a mean alto in the church choir and gives down-to-earth advice. That was me. A women's
ministry leader once told me, "You have so much going for you -- you must intimidate the wives
of the other pastors on staff."
Imagine also a wife and mother who is demanding and impatient, who can't stand herself.
That was also me. I knew these two people existed but I had no idea what to do about either of
them. I didn't like being two people, but nothing seemed to help. I felt so hopeless that I
sometimes pondered ways to end my life. I desperately wanted to be the same person all the
time, but I struggled to know why I couldn't.
What confused me most was that I had such great intentions. I loved God and I loved
serving Him, but I couldn't stand people for very long. I wanted to be kind and loving, but it
seemed as if a terrible bogeyman haunted me and forced me to be someone I didn't want to be. I
didn't know how to solve problems or work through feelings. I only knew how to cry and yell.