I was in the middle of a busy TJ Maxx on a Saturday afternoon with my mami looking for Christmas presents for my nephews when it hit. My mom was talking to me about what to get them and the gag gifts we get for the adults when I just shut down. 

Mami looks at me, not knowing I’m having a panic attack, and says, “No me mires con cara de confused.” I tell her that I’m having a panic attack and that I need to walk outside for air. What caused it? The idea of buying gifts knowing that I barely had enough money to cover my expenses. 

Was I buying anything? No. Did that stop the panic attack from taking hold of me? Also, no. 2024 was a rough year that really tested me in ways that I couldn’t have imagined, something that had my anxiety riding at an all-time high.

Instead of handing me limones, the universe decided it wanted to play a riveting game of dodgeball

I was having un ataque de ansiedad because I was at the tail-end of what I like to call my ego death year. It was the year I had to forcibly learn to let go of so many things, namely my need to control my narrative and appear that I was fine. 

I started the year having been recently diagnosed with both depression and anxiety, something that I had suspected for some time. Understanding how my brain works allowed me to see my patterns for control differently. When I embarked on something, I wanted it to be absolutely perfect. Anything short of perfection meant that I had failed.

Does it come from being an only child for the first eight years of my life? Did it happen once I became the first immigrant daughter who wanted to make her parent’s sacrifice worth it all? Or was it when I became hyper-aware of the success of those around me and thought I needed to emulate that?

I honestly couldn’t say, but one thing is for sure — that the need to plan everything out flawlessly chips away at something in you, slowly and ever so surely, like the sun setting and the darkness taking over.

I bounced from panic attack to panic attack, oftentimes not knowing I was having one. In my mind, panic attacks were loud, boisterous, and obvious. But it wasn’t until I had a conversation with mi mami, where she told me my symptoms were that of a panic attack, that I realized mine came in treacherously silent.

I did what any child of the internet generation would do: I Googled my symptoms, making sure I didn’t land on WebMD and make things worse. Now, armed with knowledge, I began to dig into where they stemmed from. I wasn’t in therapy at the time, so I couldn’t do a complete deep dive, but I put in the work.

The need for control manifests itself in different ways for everyone

So, what did control look like for me? For starters, I was drowning in a glass of air, hoping to keep up appearances. Despite my ability to be open about many things, I still keep a lot to myself. Admitting that I needed help because I was struggling felt like I had failed — at least, that is what my anxiety convinced me of.

Not saying things out loud meant that they weren’t real. Thinking that way, I allowed myself to believe the delusion that I was still very much in control of my circumstances. I wasn’t a failure if no one knew what was happening. 

The Mayo Clinic denotes that an anxiety disorder is when you “frequently have intense, excessive and persistent worry and fear about everyday situations.” This means that it needs to be impeding your day-to-day. If that’s your case, you may need to contact a licensed mental health professional as soon as possible.

By my count, I had at least seven panic attacks throughout 2024. The heavens only know if I had more. But hindsight being as acute as it is, I can see where they stemmed from. I wasn’t in control of myself or my circumstances. Keeping it to myself was chipping away at me.

I realized that my anxiety and my panic attacks were just my body’s way of getting me to listen to it. It was yelling, “Mujer, something is wrong here.” My subsequent attempts to ignore those signs only made things worse. It only made me feel heavier.

My anxiety estaba acabando conmigo, but I knew I needed to do something different because this way of living wasn’t sustainable. Anger and determination commingled and helped me realize that I needed to release my fears and finally listen to my body.

I realized that being okay was more important than being perfect

Letting go allowed my body to breathe easily for the first time in a long time. I will not say that it is effortless. There is an immense amount of discomfort that comes with it. But, I’ve learned that peace is on the other side of that discomfort.

I learned to embrace life’s uncertainty in a way built on hope and compassion. Sometime after the TJ Maxx panic attack, my mom sat me down to ask me how I was approaching my mental health and what I was doing to prevent feeling like that again. As a mom, it scared her to see me like that. 

But, I had reached a point in my journey where I didn’t feel like I needed to hide or deflect. I could confidently speak to what was happening and my solutions for it.

At that point, I was honest and told her that I’d work through it in the healthy ways that I learned to work through it, thanks to research and therapy (shoutout to my therapist). I reassured her I would do exactly what I did that day: step outside, get some fresh air, and repeat, “I am safe in this moment.”

Within that honesty, you learn that perfection is an illusion and delusion

Another thing I learned? Total control over everything is cruel and leaves no space for love. How well can you love yourself if you’re too busy trying to control everything around you? You can’t. Neglect and her sister-wife depression roll on in and take hold, something I know from experience.

To change, I had to be vulnerable and honest with myself. How can you truly let go and accept yourself if you ignore what’s lying under the surface every time you look in the mirror? 

I needed to acknowledge what patterns got me to this point. The only way to get to the other side was first to pass the emotional obstacle course that faced me.

Life is hard enough without you having to tackle the need to fix every little thing to perfection. You do not have to have it all figured out to feel safe at any moment. The impact of this hit can only be compared to stubbing your pinky toe.

For something to be done, it just needs to be done and not perfect. I didn’t have to be perfect, and that was enough. My existence was enough.

I wouldn’t trade the peace and freedom I feel for anything

Despite the unsavory bits I had to accept, finally listening to what my body was yelling at me was a blessing I had kept myself from. While it’s been some months since I’ve had a panic attack, I can confidently say that I’ve felt the most secure in who I am ever.

That being said, there are some days when I notice my anxiety trying to take hold, and I get up and do something physical. I sit outside, make myself some tea, or go for a walk. I’ve learned that movement can be incredibly healing. 

In a world that seems to be constantly changing, I am proud of myself for my courage, honesty, and compassion. Just because I experience anxiety doesn’t mean it gets to rule over everything. I’m the Reina of my kingdom, and my ansiedad needs to learn to take a seat.

Mirtle Peña-Calderón is a Dominican-born, United States-raised journalist, author, copywriter, and writing consultant with a deep passion for storytelling. She has a profound love for the vibrancy and nuance of her community. She loves to showcase it through her work on the various publications she’s written for, plus her blog, Latinidad Collective. Mirtle loves to write about culture, food, and human interest pieces that capture the subtleties of Latinos and Latines everywhere. You can learn more about her at mirtlepcalderon.com.

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