How I Finally Recognized God's Peace After Years of Panic Attacks: A Survivor's Guide to Identifying the Peace of God

For anyone who has lived so long in survival mode that they wouldn't recognize peace if it showed up at their doorstep.

I used to think that one day I would just wake up and not care anymore. That God's peace would arrive like a lightning bolt. Sudden, unmistakable, complete. I'd read Romans 5:1-2 about having "peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ" and wonder why I still felt like I was drowning.

I'm 43 now, a single mom to a beautiful neurodiverse 15-year-old daughter. I can tell you that peace didn't come the way I expected. And if you've lived through trauma (abuse, domestic violence, chronic anxiety, PTSD, or devastating loss), you might not recognize it when it finally arrives either.

This is my story. Not because I have all the answers, but because I'm still learning what God's peace actually feels like when your nervous system has been trained for chaos, not calm.

When Your Whole Life Is a Trigger

Let me take you back. I was born Hindu in India, married after a short courtship to a man who turned out to be a complete lie. The emotional and physical abuse started almost immediately. When I got pregnant, I made the hardest decision of my life. I left for good and went back to my mother.

I gave birth to my daughter alone. Moved cities to escape the memories. Started divorce proceedings while rebuilding my career. When the opportunity came to start over in Canada, far from India and everything that had hurt me, I took it.

But trauma doesn't respect geographical boundaries.

When my daughter turned five, we received three diagnoses: Autism Spectrum Disorder, Mild Intellectual Delay, and Attention Deficit Disorder. Navigating that alone, in a new country, while carrying the weight of my past? I was barely holding on.

The panic attacks came regularly. Some landed me in the ER, convinced I was dying. I was obese, my hormones were a disaster, and I was on blood pressure medication and two different anti-anxiety medications. I couldn't sleep. My body ached everywhere. I was exhausted just doing life, unable to find or keep friendships because I was always on guard, always waiting for the next blow.

I was living triggered. And I didn't even know it was abnormal.

The First Whisper of Something Different

Six years ago, my mom got sick. As she lay in the hospital on life support, I picked up a Bible for the first time. Really picked it up, not just as a curious observer of my brother's Christian faith, but as someone desperate for anything solid to hold onto.

The first sentence that stuck with me was simple but revolutionary for someone raised Hindu: God doesn't change.

God doesn't change

See, I'd spent my whole life believing you could please God with a fast, a donation, a religious ceremony. That if you did the right things, God might show up. But this God? He was different. He didn't change based on my performance. He had already sacrificed His one and only Son so I could have a never-ending relationship with Him.

I asked my mom, even in her illness, if she would be okay with me becoming a Christian. She said yes. That grace (her grace, God's grace) was the beginning.

But here's what nobody tells you: I didn't feel anything change for a really long time.

What Peace of God Actually Feels Like (When You've Lived on High Alert)

The sermon at church today mentioned the peace of God, and it brought me back to a question I wrestled with for years: How will I know when I have it?

When you've lived triggered for so long, peace doesn't feel like joy. At first, it doesn't feel like much at all. Let me walk you through what the Bible says about God's peace, and what it actually looked like in my broken, healing life.

Romans 5:1-2: Peace WITH God (Not Just Peace FROM God)

"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand."

For someone used to living in fear of judgment or rejection, this peace first showed up as the absence of dread. Not happiness. Just the quiet realization: "I'm not waiting for the other shoe to drop with God."

I started reading my Bible every day using the YouVersion app. I followed the thread of grace through the New Testament. Slowly, I began to understand something incredible. My standing with God wasn't based on whether I was healed yet, whether I was a good enough mother, whether I'd lost the weight or conquered the panic attacks.

I was justified. Past tense. Already done.

That settled legal standing didn't depend on my emotional state. And for someone whose whole life had been conditional love and performance-based acceptance, that was radical.

Colossians 3:14-15: Peace as an Umpire

"Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace."

The word "rule" here means to act as an umpire, to make the call. For years, adrenaline made all my calls. Fear decided everything.

God's peace started showing up as a new ability to pause. To not react immediately from a place of terror. Instead of the familiar surge of panic, there was this strange steadiness.

It felt unfamiliar. Uncomfortable, even. Because when you've lived in fight-or-flight mode, calm feels wrong. It feels like you're missing something, like you've let your guard down dangerously.

I had to learn: that uncomfortable quiet wasn't dissociation. It was peace. And it was okay to trust it.

Hebrews 13:20-21: Peace Through Equipping

"Now may the God of peace... equip you with everything good for doing his will."

I didn't recognize God's peace as a feeling I manufactured. I recognized it as discovering I could do things I couldn't before.

I could set a boundary without my heart racing. I could sit in silence without being flooded by memories. I could extend grace to myself when I messed up (which, let's be honest, was often).

This equipping was gradual. So gradual I almost missed it.

Psalm 119:165: Great Peace and Fewer Stumbling Blocks

"Great peace have those who love your law, and nothing can make them stumble."

The triggers didn't vanish. But they lost their power to derail me completely.

I'd encounter something that once would have sent me spiraling (a raised voice, a criticism, a setback with my daughter's school) and instead of collapsing, I'd stay grounded. Not perfectly. Not every time. But more often than before.

That's peace for the trauma survivor: not the absence of triggers, but the presence of steady ground beneath your feet when they come.

John 16:33: Peace IN Tribulation, Not Instead of It

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

This was the hardest one to accept. Because I wanted peace to mean: no more trouble.

But God's peace isn't the absence of struggle. It's the presence of Christ IN the struggle.

I learned to hold two truths at once: "This is hard, AND I am held."

The Messy Middle: When You Think You've Lost It

Two years ago, something shifted. The peace became more recognizable, more steady. I had been unlearning so much of what I thought I knew about God (the transactional religion of my upbringing) and learning instead about a God who moved toward me in my mess, not away from it.

But it wasn't a straight line.

There were setbacks. Moments where things felt impossibly difficult and I thought I'd lost the peace entirely. I fought with my grief over losing my mom. Some days, thanking God felt like choking on glass.

I tried everything to fix myself. I even tried Ozempic to lose weight, thinking if I could just control my body, maybe I'd feel more at peace. It made me sicker.

Looking back, I see it clearly: I was trying to force God's will, like Sarah trying to get Abraham a child through Hagar. My way. My timeline.

It didn't work.

November 2024: The Last Panic Attack

Last November, I had what turned out to be my last panic attack. I didn't know it would be the last one at the time. That's not how these things work. But something broke open in me.

I stopped trying to manufacture peace. I stopped trying to force healing on my terms.

I started cooking healthy meals at home. Not as a diet. Just as an act of caring for the body God gave me. Since then, I've lost 80 pounds. I'm off blood pressure medication for three years now. I'm down to one anti-anxiety medication instead of two.

But here's the thing: the physical healing followed the spiritual shift, not the other way around.

The peace came first, quiet and unimpressive. The rest followed in its wake.

What Peace Might Look Like for You

If you're reading this from the middle of your own trauma (whether it's abuse, domestic violence, chronic depression and anxiety, PTSD, or grief after devastating personal loss), let me tell you what peace might actually feel like:

It might feel like nothing at first. An unfamiliar absence of the constant hum of anxiety you've mistaken for normalcy. That's okay. Your nervous system needs time to trust it.

It might feel boring. Anticlimactic, even. You might miss the adrenaline because at least that felt like something. Peace can feel flat when you're used to living at extremes.

It might be the ability to be present in your body without constantly scanning for danger. To sleep without hypervigilance. To receive love or kindness without suspicion.

It might be gentleness toward yourself that replaces the harsh inner critic born from survival mode.

It might be recognizing that feelings don't matter if the posture of your heart is right. This was revolutionary for me. We were meant to mess up. Just not stay messed up.

Practical Steps That Helped Me Identify and Cultivate Peace

1. Daily Bible Reading (Even When You Feel Nothing)

I used the YouVersion Bible app. Some days I'd read and feel nothing. I did it anyway. The peace of God isn't dependent on feeling it in the moment. It's cultivated in the daily decision to show up.

Try this: Start with the Gospels. Watch how Jesus responds to broken people. Notice His gentleness. Let that reshape what you think God feels about your mess.

2. Follow the Thread of Grace

I specifically tracked every mention of grace in the New Testament. Grace upon grace. Unmerited favor. Love that doesn't wait for you to be healed first.

Try this: Get a journal. Every time you read about grace, write down what it means that God's love isn't contingent on your recovery timeline.

3. Community (Even Imperfect Community)

I'm part of a small group of single parents, widowed and divorced women. We're all messy. We're all still figuring it out. But there's peace in not pretending.

Try this: Find even one person who will let you be honest about the hard days without trying to fix you or spiritualize your pain away.

4. Therapy AND Faith (Not Therapy OR Faith)

I combined my faith journey with professional help. The medication. The therapy. The practical tools for managing anxiety. God used all of it.

Try this: If you're able, find a trauma-informed therapist. There's no shame in it. God can work through counseling just as much as through prayer.

5. Check Your Body

Peace showed up in my body before my mind fully recognized it. Deeper breaths. Less tension in my shoulders. Better sleep.

Try this: Throughout your day, pause and ask: "Where am I holding tension? Can I breathe a little deeper right now?" Those small moments train your body to remember what safety feels like.

6. Grounding in the Present

When panic threatened, I learned to ground myself: Name five things you can see. Four things you can touch. Three things you can hear. Two things you can smell. One thing you can taste.

Try this: Pair this with Scripture. "God is my refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." (Psalm 46:1) Say it out loud while you ground yourself in the present moment.

7. Give Yourself Permission for the Messy Middle

Some days you'll feel peace. Some days you won't. Both are okay. You're not failing when the hard days come.

Try this: On difficult days, say this out loud: "I am still held. God's peace doesn't depend on me feeling it right now."

To My Fellow Survivors: You're Not Crazy

If you're someone supporting a loved one who's been through trauma, please hear this: Don't expect them to recognize peace immediately. Don't be discouraged if they seem restless in the calm you're offering.

Their nervous system has been trained for danger. Peace feels foreign. Sometimes it feels wrong. They might self-sabotage when things get too stable because chaos is more familiar.

Be patient. Keep showing up. Let them learn that your love doesn't disappear when they're not "better" yet.

To Those Still in the Thick of It

I'm raising a neurodiverse teenager on my own. Some days are still incredibly hard. I don't have all the answers about how to parent her, but I'm learning to trust that the same God who moved into my heart will move into hers.

She is both my peace and my area of ongoing stress. Both can be true.

The journey from constantly being on watch to experiencing God's peace is still ongoing for me. But it got dramatically better in the last two years. And if it can get better for me (someone who spent years in the ER with panic attacks, someone who fled abuse, someone who navigated single motherhood in a foreign country while grieving her mother), it can get better for you too.

The Peace That Doesn't Make Sense

Philippians 4:7 talks about "the peace of God, which transcends all understanding." For years, I thought that meant it was some mystical, unexplainable experience.

Now I understand: it transcends understanding because it makes no logical sense.

There's no reason I should have peace while raising a special needs child alone. No reason I should sleep well after everything I've been through. No reason I should be able to breathe deeply and feel air fill my lungs after years of suffocating panic.

But I do.

That's God's peace. It doesn't wait for your circumstances to line up. It doesn't require you to have it all figured out. It shows up in the middle of your mess and whispers: "I'm here. You're held. We're going to be okay."

I'm here. You're held. We're going to be okay.

A Final Word: You Were Made for More Than Survival Mode

If you're reading this and you're still in survival mode (hypervigilant, exhausted, unable to rest), please know: God's peace is available to you. Not because you've earned it. Not because you're healed enough to deserve it. But because Jesus already paid for it.

You don't have to wake up one day and suddenly not care. You don't have to force it or manufacture it or prove you're worthy of it.

You just have to keep showing up. Keep reading. Keep breathing. Keep taking the next small step.

The peace will come. Quietly. Gradually. So subtly you might not even notice at first.

But one day, you'll realize: you just took a full, deep breath without thinking about it. You just sat in silence and it didn't terrify you. You just handled a trigger without falling apart.

And you'll know: this is it. This is the peace of God.

It won't look like you thought. It might not feel like you expected.

But it will be enough. More than enough.

Because He is enough.

If this post resonated with you, I'd love to hear your story. How has God's peace shown up in your healing journey? What does it look like for you? Drop a comment below or reach out. You're not alone in this.

If you or someone you know is in crisis, please reach out:

• National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 988

• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741

• Canada Suicide Prevention Service: 1-833-456-4566

You matter. Your story matters. And there is hope.