The only time I've ever thought I was really going to die was during my first panic attack. I was on vacation in Paris and suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. As I hyperventilated, my arms, legs and torso went tingly. I was rushed to the emergency room, shaken, but alive.

Panic disorder left me debilitated for two months after my first attack. I struggled with shortness of breath, fatigue, and heart palpitations. I was forced to defer going to teachers' college for a year because I didn't feel physically able to go.

For a while, I focused on all the things panic disorder was taking away from me. Then I got wise.

I realized that my illness was call to become a better person. I took panic disorder as an opportunity to grow. The "year off" from school became my "year on." I majored in me. I journaled, went for therapy, and asked myself important questions. What do I enjoy? Who am I? Where do I want to be? How can I be an active creator of my life, rather than just falling into it?

Today, panic disorder has taken a back seat. A loving and supportive partner, journal writing and cognitive behavioural therapy were the major players in my recovery. Complementary medicine also played a supporting role. But mostly it was me. I decided I deserved to really live, and that I was being called to do so.

They say that we are only dealt a hand that we can play. If you are suffering with anxiety or panic, be brave and ask yourself some important questions: Am I really happy? What do I love? What have I always wanted to do? Where can I get help? How can I start healing today?