Breaking the Cycle... Easier said than done

I always try to tell myself I'm going to be okay...everything is okay; but the moment you have an anxiety attack, it's incredibly hard to do.  My heart thunders in my ears and I feel like any moment I am going to just die.  Of course when you feel like that, your thoughts are your worst enemies.  You can't get escape until it subsides. 
When I have an attack, the entire world is scary.  I feel like I am going crazy and even if that's not happening, I am still dying.  Everything that matters to you sinks into an oblivion of fear and for the next 30 minutes or more, I'm wishing I could just sink away, too.  It's an awful feeling because somewhere behind all of that, there is still the fun, bubbly woman I know.  I feel like there are two people living inside of me; one I know and love, the other is a fearful, unhappy hypochondriac and I can't stand it.
Of course you think you can reach out to a doctor for help...but the only thing they want to do is push a pill on you.  Yes, the answer to all of my health issues and fears are in this little pill... so what if I could potentially commit suicide?  I won't be anxious anymore, right?  :(
Please.  Let's deal with the real issues at hand.  I had a rough childhood.  I grew up afraid.  Everything was scary; I never knew what was going to happen.  I'll give a few examples so you understand; this isn't something you just get over and forget about. 
When my mom's boyfriend would get drunk, he'd dangle me and my brother over our third story balcony.  He'd hold me by my legs and pretend that he was going to drop me.  All I could see was the concrete floor three floors down.  It scared me so bad. 
I would watch the same happen to my little brother and I think that scared me even more.  The terror that was scrawled over his face was incredibly hard to watch.  What is worse, this would happen and my mother would continue to stay with the man.  I can never understand that.  It wouldn't matter to me what I thought I had with a man; you hurt my children that way and you are gone forever... but that didn't happen.
My mother's boyfriend tormented me.  He had it out for me.  Everything I did was up for an argument.  I wasn't good enough, my efforts were shit, and I swear I spent 70% of my childhood in my bedroom because of him.
My mother was venomous when it came to her children.  She was plain mean.  I remember one day she literally yelled at us the entire day.  She didn't stop.  Intermittent beatings were also part of the agenda that day and, as much as I hated him, I couldn't wait for my stepdad to get home because he didn't let her hit us. 
The worst beating I had ever gotten was when I was 12.  I'd lied about having homework for two weeks.  I was depressed and I didn't care about school.  I didn't want to bother with any of it.  My sixth grade teacher informed me one day that my mother had called to inquire about my homework.  Chills and fear ran over me and I looked at my teacher and told her she had no idea what she had just done.  Of course, my teacher had no idea what was going on at home, so she shrugged it off and asked me why I'd lied. 
It's hard to explain why I lied.  I thought is was just easier than saying I'm sad and I feel alone and I don't want to live in this house with this kind of fear.  Who would listen?  Certainly not my mother; she was the person who inflicted this on me.  In any case, I did lie and the consequences were more than I could bear.
I remember I came home and I knew I was in trouble.  I tried to make light of everything; it was close to Christmas and I'd spent the afternoon in the Santa Workshop school put together.  I tried to appeal to her, but it didn't work.  She looked at me with such disdain...  I knew at that moment that she'd contemplated what she was going to do to me all day.  It was like she was excited to punish me and that idea terrified me.
When I got in, she directed me to the bathroom.  She shut the door and began to yell at me.  I can't remember everything she said because the fear that had rolled over me was so intense it was a blur.  I remember it was something about how my friends might get away with it, but I wouldn't and if I thought I was a big girl, I was wrong.  She then had me sit on the toilet and she started to beat me in the head with her hands.  She hit my ears over and over and over.  Then she made me eat two bars of soap.  If I stopped, she'd hit me.  She then brushed my teeth with the soap and I remember her face being scrunched up; like she was pushing as hard as she could to inflict the most pain. 
I remember when I caught a glimpse in the mirror, there were white bubbles with blood racing through the suds.  It scared me so bad.  She didn't let me spit.  She made me swallow.  After she'd made my gums raw, she took me to the kitchen and made me eat jalepenos.  I remember it burned so incredibly bad.  I felt like I was never going to stop hurting.  Then, she took me to my bedroom, layed me over the bed and beat me with the belt.  It was after all of this, she made me go to bed without dinner.
All the while, my grandmother was there.  She saw everything...and did nothing.  I remember I was laying on the living room floor the next day, my stomach churning and feeling like it was on fire. I remember throwing up and there was a little blood in my vomit.  My grandma said, "I think you might have overdone it."  My mom just looked at me and said, "Good.  Maybe she won't lie again."
This episode did something to me.  It scared me.  it mademe realize I couldn't trust anyone.  Anything could happen.  Being afraid like that everyday... I think it taught me to be afraid most of the time.  I don't know that I will ever get over that. 
But I do plan to seek counseling.  Because I know that my anxiety can be controlled.  And I know that I am more than my anxiety.  I know that I am more than the things that happened to me.  I know that I am a good person with a good heart and I deserve to be happy.  And one day, very soon, I will be.