As I look back on my younger years, I realize now that I struggled with anxiety long before I even recognized it. I think about memories from childhood and find myself saying, “Even as a kid with so few responsibilities, you found so much to worry about!” and “I wish I had given myself permission to be imperfect.”
Awareness has come with time.
I’ve come to understand that my perfectionism, my high expectations, and my constant worry only fueled my anxious mind. But how did I truly come to this realization?
It all became crystal clear the day I experienced my first panic attack. Up until that moment, I was blissfully unaware that my perfectionistic, high-achieving tendencies could have such a profound effect on my mental and even physical health.
I had spent my life balancing a demanding schedule—maintaining straight A’s in school while competing as a synchronized skater. Anxiety? Me? Not in my mind. I thought I could handle anything.
That perception shattered one day while I was on the train heading downtown to nursing school after a weekend visit with my parents. I was just starting to come down with a cold and had taken over-the-counter cough medicine to avoid disturbing other passengers.
As the train pulled away from the station, I realized with a sinking feeling that I had left my phone at my parents’ house. Immediately, a surge of fear overtook me: “What if I need help? What if something happens?” Somehow, the sedating effect of the cough medicine helped me push the thought aside, and I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke, the grogginess from the medication weighed heavily on my body. That familiar anxious thought returned, growing stronger: “What if something is really wrong? Without my phone, I have no way to reach anyone!”
Then the panic took over. My heart pounded violently, my blood felt like it was rushing in my veins, and the world around me seemed to twist and slow. The busy train station moved like molasses. I felt unreal, as if I were trapped in a dream, unsure if I could even walk straight without falling. Fear consumed me.
By chance, a couple of firefighters walked by. Summoning every ounce of courage, I approached them and explained what was happening. They helped me sit down and gave me oxygen while I waited for an ambulance to take me to the emergency department.
The moment I knew someone was there to help, the terror began to fade. By the time I reached the ER, I felt nearly myself again. Relief washed over me. I even felt well enough to leave—though before doing so, I spoke with a social worker. She gently suggested that what I had experienced was likely a panic attack.
“Me? A panic attack? No way!” I thought. I had always been a worrier, yes, but anxiety? That wasn’t me. I dismissed her insight, blaming the cough medicine instead, which I promised myself I would never take again.
But in the days that followed, the same paralyzing sensations returned, uninvited and unpredictable. Slowly, I began to admit the possibility that this wasn’t just medication—it might actually be panic attacks. Or worse, maybe something was physically wrong with me. My house became my safe haven. Outside, anxiety lurked, ready to strike anywhere. Thoughts spun uncontrollably: “What if it happens at school? What if I faint? What if I can’t get home?”
Those initial weeks were some of the scariest of my life. I was terrified of the unknown, unaware of how my own thoughts and physical sensations were feeding my anxiety. I hid my struggles from everyone except my parents, afraid of judgment. I felt alone, trapped, and convinced that I might never feel like myself again.
Thankfully, things didn’t remain so bleak. My go-getter nature refused to let anxiety cage me forever. With therapy and intensive cognitive behavioral therapy, I learned to trust my body again. I made myself face the very places where panic had struck—like the train station—showing my mind that I could be safe even in fear.
My dad introduced me to a Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction Program. Initially skeptical, I committed to an hour of meditation every day for eight weeks. The results were profound. Through meditation, I learned to recognize the stress and anxiety I unconsciously created with my thoughts and habits. By the end of the program, I could return to life as it was before my panic attacks. My anxiety didn’t disappear completely, but it transformed from an overwhelming storm into a manageable hum.
Mindfulness became my gateway to calm. By observing my thoughts and emotions without resistance, I created space for self-compassion, allowing feelings to arise and pass naturally. I fell in love with incorporating mindfulness into daily life—not just through meditation, but through yoga, mindful walking, and even mindful eating.
After my first child was born in late 2018, my practices fell by the wayside. My energy went into caring for my son, and old habits of worry, control, and comparison resurfaced, intensifying my anxiety. It wasn’t until I admitted to my husband, “I don’t feel like myself,” that I realized I needed therapy again.
In therapy, I learned that even just ten minutes of daily mindfulness could significantly reduce anxiety. With a busy life as a new mom, I prioritized those ten minutes, knowing it was crucial for my mental health. Slowly, I regained confidence in managing stress and anxiety, and the shame surrounding my diagnosis of generalized anxiety and panic disorder began to lift.
As I opened up to trusted people about my anxiety, I discovered acceptance and understanding. I grew brave enough to share my story on social media, hoping to inspire and support others facing similar struggles.
If there’s one piece of advice I could offer, it’s this: look within. Awareness is the first step toward managing stress and anxiety. The stories we tell ourselves and the habits we unconsciously follow shape our present experience. Mindfulness taught me to observe myself, respond with compassion, and reclaim my mental health.
If you’re seeking sustainable, effective ways to manage stress and anxiety, I invite you to join the Just Breathe Mama community—where support, understanding, and growth are always waiting.
