Four years ago, I experienced my first panic attack. It happened during a period of chronic stress, which often becomes the trigger for panic to arise. At that time, I had no idea what panic attacks even were — I thought I was seriously ill. I’ve always struggled with hypochondria and health-related anxiety, and what started as worry about my health eventually developed into a full Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD). Back then, I had just started my business, and the stress became overwhelming. I had to take a step back and begin rebuilding my daily life with more stability. I created routines: starting my mornings with a run, sticking to a bedtime schedule, and structuring my days in a healthier way. At the same time, I faced what I call an “anxiety hierarchy” through exposure therapy. Step by step, I confronted the fears that controlled me. Eventually, I was even able to face my biggest fear — and when I did, my anxiety began to fade. It was not an overnight success. It took more than seven months of consistent work, supported by cognitive behavioral therapy, but I made it. At my worst, I had agoraphobia and could hardly leave my home. My “safe window” grew smaller and smaller until friendships, social activities, and going out felt impossible. But with exposure, I learned something important: avoidance fuels anxiety. Every time I avoided what scared me, I was teaching my brain that danger was real. The only way out was to face those fears, every single day. That first journey brought me four years of freedom. I lived without anxiety, feeling healthy and whole again. But as my business grew, so did my stress levels. This year, the anxiety returned — stronger than before. I’ve since realized that for some of us, anxiety isn’t just circumstantial — it can also be genetic. Our brains may be wired in a way that makes us more vulnerable. The prefrontal cortex, which handles rational decision-making, doesn’t always balance well against the amygdala, which drives emotional reactions. When the amygdala dominates, the imbalance feeds fear. Anxiety then becomes a learned process, strengthened every time we avoid what scares us. The body plays a big role too. When I panic, I feel everything: tense legs and arms, numbness, racing heart, sweating, shallow breathing. I also discovered how over-breathing (hyperventilation) can change blood chemistry, making it more alkaline, triggering inflammation, and sending danger signals to the body. While people often suggest focusing on breathing, for me that was never the cure — exposure remained the most effective path. One technique that helped me was visualizing anxiety on a time axis. We expect anxiety to spike endlessly, as if it will never stop. That’s when avoidance feels tempting: it provides quick relief, but in the long run it makes anxiety worse. The real goal is habituation. By staying with the fear long enough, the wave eventually crests and falls. The more often you ride it out, the smaller and weaker the waves become. This time, because my anxiety was much stronger, I decided to seek help in a clinic. I’m currently at the Max Planck Institute in Munich, one of the world’s leading centers for mental health and neuroscience. It’s also my first time using medication — SSRIs — along with Pregabalin, which has reduced my symptoms significantly. I’ve also had my pharmacogenetics tested, which helps determine how my body metabolizes different medications, so I can find the treatment that fits me best. I’m only four weeks into SSRIs, and while progress is slow, I already see some improvement. Exposure feels harder now than it did four years ago, but I remind myself that learning and healing are ongoing processes. I continue to practice, to seek knowledge from others, and to stay open to growth. My story isn’t finished yet. But even in the hardest moments, I know that exposing myself to fear instead of avoiding it is the key to breaking the cycle. I’m still here, still learning, and still moving forward.
