Anxious Body, Thankful Heart

The first time it happened to me, I was in the middle of a choir rehearsal at church, about 10 years ago. All of a sudden, for no reason I was aware of, my heart felt like it was racing away and my whole body started to get that tingly pins-and-needles sensation. We didn't know what was going on, and since I was saying my chest hurt and I thought I might pass out, someone called the paramedics. They administered oxygen, but since that made me feel quite a bit better and my vital signs were normal, there was no further testing and I went home. It didn't take too long for that experience to fade, and I didn't think much of it until it happened again almost 3 years ago, during my last pregnancy. This time it was far worse--something was sitting on my chest and I began to feel like I couldn't breathe. It was the middle of the night, but I woke Nathan up in a panic and he called the hospital. As he relayed the nurse's questions to me and I was forced to talk, the tightness slowly began to ease, and eventually, whatever was weighing down my chest jumped off and ran away, though it left me shaken and wiped out. It was at this point that we recognized this as a panic attack. It was also at this point that these attacks gradually became more frequent, until last fall, when they began occurring at least once a week. We thought something might be wrong with my heart that was triggering the panic response (considering my family history, that wouldn't be surprising), but several trips to the ER and for all kinds of testing and monitoring turned up nothing but occasional palpitations in an area consistent with stress. In other words, my body was just reacting to stress in an extreme way. And the frequency of the attacks was exacerbated by the fact that I was having such frequent attacks, since they leave you feeling mentally strained and physically exhausted, which in turn, raises stress levels. It can be a vicious cycle. Thankfully, in answer to many prayers, the regularity of these episodes decreased significantly after a few months, and I've only had one or two major attacks since then. But even now, it is not uncommon for me to have minor symptoms at night when I lie down to sleep, especially if it has been a busy day.

And so it was encouraging for me to read Stephen Altrogge's post over at The Blazing Centre this week, in which he talks about his own struggle with physical anxiety.

I appreciated, first of all, that he distinguishes between physical anxiety and worry (or "being anxious"). As he says, worry is a sin. The Bible clearly tells us to be anxious for nothing. But while I can often have physical anxiety symptoms that are compounded when I start to worry about my symptoms, they are very rarely initially triggered by any conscious worry on my part. In fact, these days more often than not, the anxiety attacks don't make me anxious. I can be settling down for a good night's sleep after a fairly busy day, thinking nothing of it, and suddenly feel my heart start to pound. I know what it is now, and it doesn't make me worry (granted, it's a lot easier to keep from worry when you know the cause), but it may keep me awake for a long time just because I'm physically uncomfortable. Even though it's called physical anxiety, manifesting itself in panic attacks, there is often no mental anxiety or panic behind it. It's almost as if my physical body reacts to stress by flipping out, even when my mind is calm and handling things well... even when, at least to the degree that I can tell, I'm entrusting my health and the busyness of the day to the Lord. I struggled for a while with this distinction, worrying that I must be worrying, and that my sin of anxiety must be triggering these episodes. But while it is true that actual sinful anxiety can trigger them, and can certainly compound them, physical anxiety symptoms are, in and of themselves, an involuntary physical reaction. This is very humbling because there is nothing I can really do to fight it. Something is wrong with the way my body functions. I mean, I can take medication (I'm not, but I have nothing against it, and if things were extreme again, I would be filling a prescription). I can try to minimize stress (when the doctor told me, with my 4 young children in the office, that I needed to lower the amount of stress in my life, I wanted to laugh at him!). But these things can only help so much. It is out of my control, and I can't be released from the effects by appropriating God's forgiveness, sharing my struggle with a godly friend and seeking to walk in obedience by the Spirit's help. I can't change it, and God has made no promise to change it or even that he desires healing in this area. He may even desire to allow things to worsen, for the sake of my growth in sanctification.

But Altrogge also goes on to talk about how he's learning to see physical anxiety as a mercy (albeit a hard one). I have found the same thing in my own life, and have often thought of it in the same category--as a thorn of weakness sent to demonstrate my need and God's overwhelming strength. I've always been seen as a competent, put-together person who can handle a significant amount of stress and upheaval--"tough as nails", as my husband often puts it. And I've always thought of myself this way, too. That is, I thought of myself that way until last fall. Then God sent 3 months of concentrated physical anxiety into my life that turned me upside down and shook all the change out of my pockets. I would have an attack, and it would be over, but the loss of sleep (for me, they happen most often at night) and the stress on my body would leave me worn down and weak for a few days. Then, just as I'd start to recover, I'd have another attack. It's not easy, or even possible, to be totally competent and put-together when you're not sleeping, your body is running itself down, you don't entirely know what's wrong, and you've still got 4 kids to care for. I began to realize that it didn't take much for me to be put out of commission. I mean, it wasn't like I had cancer, or actual heart problems. They were just panic attacks. But that's how weak I am--my body's reaction to stress is enough to take me out. I began to realize that I couldn't handle the schedule I was on. The human body isn't meant to run indefinitely. I'm limited. I began to come to the very real realization, each time my chest clammed up and I couldn't get my breath, that God holds every next breath in his hand, and it is his to give or take away as he sees fit. And while all this could have made me fall to pieces, or get angry at God, or question his goodness, by God's grace alone, it has actually worked to make me more dependent, more willing to accept my limitations, more humble and more thankful for every day of life and health that I do have. And so, I too am thankful for the hard mercy of physical anxiety.

I had a mild attack just the other night--actually, the same day I read Altrogge's post. It wasn't fun and I lost a fair bit of sleep. But if this thorn is what it takes for me to learn to rest in God's strength alone and to be humble enough to ask for help from others, I'll learn to welcome it. It shows that I am weak and incompetent and my body doesn't even know when to calm down when my mind tells it to, but God is glorious and all-powerful and his being never freaks out when things get a little chaotic or stressful, and HE is the one who empowers me to do what he has called me to do, even when I'm exhausted and something is sitting on my chest. And one day, after this thorn has given him all the glory he has purposed it to give, he will remove it forever! (Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!)