Life After Panic Will Never Be The Same

I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Saturday, some months after my first panic attack in October 2021. I had a very difficult night experiencing what felt like a never-ending panic attack. I remember trying to sleep, but feeling my heartbeat pounding through the pillow would instantly wake me up — this anxiety, this fear of dying that very night. Eventually panic ran out of fuel — adrenaline — and the body took over to get the sleep it required.

And did I die? Well, not physically. But part of me running an old program probably did.

I woke up the next morning next to my wife, thinking about the previous night, crying and asking myself: "Will this ever be over?" I just wanted my life back, exactly as it was. The life I knew and had grown used to.

In my 30s, I had become an expert at hiding my emotions — putting them aside. Emotions can be really uncomfortable, as they are attached to our belief systems. When we experience them, the mind tries to explain them in its own language: thoughts. These thoughts usually match the frequency of the emotion, so they can be uncomfortable and scary too. And so In order to avoid this discomfort, I learned to hide them, to put them away — at least temporarily — knowing they would always come back, trying to be embraced and acknowledged.

Emotions are the language the body uses to communicate with us. When we don't sit with them — when we don't embrace and acknowledge them — they get stored in the body. Think about a past experience that made you really happy. What do you feel, and where do you feel it?

I spent my life hiding, ignoring, or putting emotions aside every time they came knocking. And so, I believe, my body said: there is something he needs to take care of, and he is not listening. We need to raise the volume. Raising the volume, in my case, meant panic.

The passing of my brother, as painful as it was, was just a trigger. The last drop. The emotions I had hidden or neglected for so long had filled the glass — and that was the drop that made it overflow. My body, wisely, intervened. It raised the volume so I would finally start paying attention. Why? To protect me. To prevent me from getting sick from all of this. To preserve and protect me in ways I was not consciously aware I needed.

The body handles so many processes flawlessly without our intervention — breathing, heartbeat, sleep, digestion, to name a few. It knows what needs to be done, when it needs to be done, with Swiss watch precision. It also knows how to renew, repair and heal itself. However, it can only do this optimally when we stop interfering — when we stop feeding it anxiety, worry, and the need to control things outside of our control. In order to heal, it needs to find itself in a state of homeostasis, in rest-and-digest rather than fight-or-flight.

Interestingly, even when we constantly feed it with anxiety, fear and worry, it has a very elegant and clear way to step in. You know when you catch a cold that puts you out for a couple of days? So completely out that there is no room for worries about the past or the future? I now see that as the body forcing us out of our own interference so it can recover. It does this for our higher good. It knows what needs to be done, and exactly when.

I came to understand that the body can handle a lot, and we often underestimate how intelligent and capable it is. I can't help thinking about all the times I tried to stop my panic attacks — trying to do the body's job for it. What I learned is that it also has the ability to step in when we cannot manage ourselves. When panic happens, it steps in to prevent the body from going further. When anxiety keeps us from sleeping, it will eventually take over and get the rest it needs.

Today I see my body as this supernatural, supremely intelligent system — a piece of engineering I feel lucky to have, exactly as it is, to navigate this life.

Thinking about everything I have been through until now. Everything the body has gone through to bring me to where I am today — the difficult times, the hardship, the struggle. It has not only adapted but grown stronger, more resilient through all of it.

I believe struggle brings with it the greatest opportunities for expansion and growth.

My life after anxiety and panic changed. It will never be the same — and I am truly grateful for that. Among all the precious gifts this journey brought me, one of the most significant is the ability to reestablish the connection between myself and my body that I had unconsciously ignored or neglected for so long. I have learned to listen to it, and to understand the language it uses to communicate with me: emotions. And I communicate back in the language I know: words and actions.

Going through life today is different. I feel I am at a different level where I am not disconnected. I feel a unity with my body that I find difficult to explain with words — but it gives me a confidence, a trust, that I can handle whatever life throws at me. I am fortunate to have this body, this mind, this soul to navigate it with.

This doesn't mean life has gotten easier — that couldn't be further from the truth. This just means I stopped asking for life to come at me easier and started working, syncing mind and body to build the strength and resilience necessary to deal with it as is.

The journey continues.