Triggering Fear

By Anna Karson

In 1994, around the time of her twenty-first birthday, author Anna Karson, lays in a hospital bed fighting for her life. She has nothing but time to contemplate how she got to this point. In Triggering Fear, Karson narrates her story, offering a real-life look at domestic assault that often takes place behind closed doors.

She tells how she met her husband in high school, her marriage at a young age, and the horrific abuse she suffered at the hands of a narcissist. Karson knows her ex-husband is to blame for her near-death experience, and she explains how she also knows the role God played in saving her, not just from this crisis, but during all of the other nights of terror.

Offering inspiration to those surviving abuse day to day, Triggering Fear shares one woman’s life tragedies and mistakes that helped her turn triggers of fear into triggers of faith—the reason she trusts and depends on God.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Apr 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781664262133

Anna Karson

Anna Karson has overcome many trials, including surviving domestic violence. Her faith in God has kept her strong in the darkest of times. Karson is also the author of Triggering Fear, a true story that follows her life up to the night she fought for her life and freedom.

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Copyright © 2022 Anna Karson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

844-714-3454

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

ISBN: 978-1-6642-6214-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-6215-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-6213-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022905865

WestBow Press rev. date:   04/09/2022

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

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Dedication

I dedicate this book to the ladies in my extremely

small circle who let me panic, cry, rant,

or just be free enough to open up about my pain

when I felt I had no one else to talk to

All my love

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Chapter 1

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H ave you ever had that moment—that out-of-body experience—where you felt like you were about to cross over into Heaven? That was how I felt while I hovered over the hospital room and looked at my lifeless body below. My parents were sitting there, heads bowed, praying for God to heal me. What a way to spend your twenty-first birt hday.

Just a few hours before, the room had been filled with laughter. For days, it had been a swamp of drear, as death seemed to have crept closer and closer. Even so, we’d had faith that everything would be okay. So, there I was, at peace with what was about to happen. You hear stories about people having these moments, and they may say they saw a bright light or got a glimpse of heaven. Not me. I was just watching the scene below me as if it were playing on a television screen. Honestly, before that moment, I would have told you that I did not believe in out-of-body experiences, yet I was experiencing one firsthand. That peace, though, was overwhelming. I was not scared to die and, in that moment, I was not even mad at him.

No, of course, I was not mad at God. That was not who I was referring to. I was talking about the monster who put me in that situation. Because of him, there were so many things I would never get to do. Children—he was about to rob me of ever having children. He was going to be the reason my parents faced burying their daughter. They were angry because they knew he had put me in that hospital room, but as I hovered there, I felt nothing for him.

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I’d been sick for several weeks. As a matter of fact, I’d been sick almost since the moment that I’d officially escaped him forever. It was as if my body had known it was failing, but it had fought and fought to get me through what had to be done. Once that moment finally happened, I physically had nothing left to give. At first, I thought it was the flu. I barely had an appetite, and if I did eat, I couldn’t keep it down. I kept a fever and had absolutely no energy to do anything. I would go to work, and on breaks, I would go in my dad’s office and take naps on his couch. Mom and Dad kept trying to convince me to go to the doctor, but I would just respond that it was the flu and told them it would eventually run its course. Since the divorce had just become final, I was without insurance. One day, as Dad and I rode home from work, he told me that if insurance was the reason I wasn’t going to a doctor, he would pay for whatever I needed.

This went on for about three weeks. We couldn’t figure out why I still had no appetite or energy. Finally, one day, I noticed my ankles were swollen and thought it was a little odd. Not only that, but even though I had barely eaten ten bites in three weeks, I seemed to be putting on weight. Before bed one night, I told my mom if she’d call the family doctor the next morning, I would be willing to go in and get checked out.

The next morning, I explained my symptoms, and the doctor felt sure it was just remnants of the flu and I would eventually get back to feeling normal. I showed him my swollen ankles and told him that every time I had ever gone to the kidney doctor, he’d always asked if I had any swelling in my ankles, so I felt something was really off since it was one of my symptoms. Again, the family doctor said I was just having trouble getting over the flu and if I went home and propped my feet up, the swelling would probably be gone by morning. It wasn’t.

I got out of bed the next morning and went straight to the couch. I told Mom that my ankles were still swollen and that I thought it was odd that the doctor never even did any bloodwork, even though he knew there were renal issues in my history. I asked her to call my nephrologist to see if he’d call in an order for labs close to home. I did not think I could ride an hour away just to get labs. Luckily, he called orders in rather quickly, and Mom took me to get that taken care of. We were back home in no time.

When we got home, I made my way right back to the couch, and even though I had not wanted anything to eat in weeks, I had the oddest craving. Mom came walking through the house, and I asked for some dill pickles. She tried to convince me to let her make a sandwich to go with it, but all I wanted was the pickles. She brought me the whole jar because she was so pleased that I actually wanted something to eat.

Within just a few seconds of her bringing me the jar (not even enough time for me to get it open), the kidney doctor called. Of course, I could only hear Mom’s side of the conversation, but I gathered he asked how I was feeling, because she mentioned I must be feeling better since I had finally asked for some food. She told