Table of contents:
The last one
I do not remember the exact date of my last anxiety attack, but it was sometime in the winter of 2021:
“You are safe. You are safe.”
I repeated familiar words of comfort as I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to come back to center. My heart was racing and it felt like something terrible was about to happen.
Moments earlier, I was on the phone with my manager. She told me I said something I hadn’t. When I clarified that I didn’t say what she was suggesting, she doubled down. Then, when I stood my ground, she abruptly changed the subject.
This wasn’t the first time we’ve had an interaction like this, and while I was previously able to ignore it, this time it was wearing me down.
I made it through the rest of the call, but my mind was spinning. I felt panicked.
As soon as we hung up, I had a full-blown anxiety attack.
Things happened quick
I paced my kitchen, convinced someone might show up at my front door to harm me. It felt irrational and real at the same time. My body was reacting as if I were in immediate danger.
“You are safe.” The more times I repeated it, the more I felt it.
I knew this wasn’t just about the uncomfortable conversation. My nervous system couldn’t tell the difference between a phone call and real physical danger. And it was reacting based on past experiences where being misunderstood felt threatening.
Repeating my mantra helped me ground myself. I remembered I was in my home, working remotely. My manager was hours away. Her behavior was off, but it wasn’t physically threatening.
I told myself, “Even if she did show up, I don’t have to answer the door.”
That thought pulled me further out of panic.
My heart started to slow. My breathing evened out. And then the memories came back. All the times the people raising me insisted I said things I hadn’t. The accusations, the physical and emotional abuse. I remembered begging to be believed. Crying. Pleading. Explaining that what they were saying wasn’t true.
Then the anger hit.
“I’ve been boxing for ten years. If that b*tch came to my house, I’d beat her ass on the front lawn.”
The thought felt good, but I knew it was unhealthy.
“Okay, killer, calm down. You don’t have to fight anymore.”
I took deep breaths and accepted that the anger was a shield, and underneath the rage was fear.
But I wasn’t in physical danger. I didn’t need to fight to be safe. I wasn’t a child anymore. I had a voice. I had options. I could handle this professionally.
I reframed the thought: “If she actually came here, I’d call the cops. And HR. Because that would be insane.”
The come down
The shift happened. I went from panic to logic. From reactivity to clarity. I was proud of how I handled it, but also sad.
I sat on my kitchen floor and cried. Not just for what happened that day, but for everything that led up to it. For the years I spent begging to be heard. For the kid who tried to do everything right and still got punished. For the pain I wasn’t allowed to feel. For the fact I felt like I had to fight in the first place.
“You’re not that kid anymore. You have a voice. You’re advocating for yourself even when it’s hard. That’s badass.”
The anxiety attack was probably only a couple minutes, but working through it took a lot of energy. I was exhausted.
With the panic gone and emotions settled, I took the rest of the day for myself. But first, I emailed HR and requested that I no longer have one-on-ones with my manager unless someone else was present.
Before thought literacy
Before I learned thought literacy, I doubt I would have had the confidence to stand up for myself on that call. I probably would have accepted blame for something I didn’t do, then felt defeated afterward.
It’s hard to admit, but I probably would have turned to drinking that night just to avoid the discomfort of the situation and the past it stirred up—if I even realized that’s what was happening.
That would’ve led to showing up at work hungover, demotivated, not doing my best, and getting stuck in a negative cycle.
The power of thought literacy
With thought literacy, I had the skills to stop the anxiety attack as it was happening. Things like:
- Self-awareness: recognizing the anxiety and understanding it was tied to old trauma, not just the current situation.
- Emotional regulation: using a mantra and grounding myself in the “now” to reduce panic.
- Cognitive reframing: catching unhelpful thoughts and replacing them with more balanced ones.
- Self-compassion and curiosity: getting curious about my emotions and let myself feel them instead of judging.
- Recognizing secondary emotions: seeing the anger as a mask for fear and choosing to feel the fear instead.
- Small wins and empowerment: reminding myself that I had a voice, and I used it.
- Proactive action: once I was clear-headed, emailing HR to create a healthier work boundary.
Thought literacy didn’t just help calm the anxiety attack, it stop it from being worse than it could have been.
During the call, I noticed the negative suggestions in my environment (my manager insisting I said things I hadn’t) and acknowledged them without giving them too much weight.
That awareness helped me stay grounded and hold on to a sense of clarity.
In the moment I didn’t fully understand why I was so triggered, but I could tell my emotional state was heightened. Because of that, I chose not to react impulsively or say something I’d regret.
Staying aligned with my values under pressure helped ease the aftermath and made the anxiety more manageable.
Final thoughts
Since that day I haven’t had another anxiety attack. And while there’s always a chance I may have one again, if I did, I’d probably think “Is this an anxiety attack? Huh. What’s bringing this on?” instead of leaning into the fear.
This didn’t happen by accident.
Thought literacy gave me tools to make my mind a safer place. I built self-awareness, learned to redirect unhelpful thoughts, and figured out what actually works for me.
Previously, techniques like the 5-4-3-2-1 method (naming 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch, etc.) never worked, and I thought it meant I was doing something wrong. But thought literacy gave me the confidence to look for other options, and I found that repeating a simple mantra (“You are safe”) calms my anxiety almost instantly.
I’ve also taken time to reflect on my past, which helps me spot patterns and change what I no longer want to repeat.
That’s what thought literacy is: understanding how your thoughts shape your emotions, and learning how to work with your mind instead of being overpowered by it.
Thought literacy helps you:
- Spot triggers and recognize when your reaction is rooted in the past
- Feel your emotions instead of stuffing them down
- Notice when your body is reacting to something that’s no longer happening
Reducing anxiety. Healing trauma. Managing stress. That’s the outcome of learning to manage your thoughts.
Avoiding triggers might feel safer, but real safety comes when you can face them, understand them, and respond with clarity and self-trust.
If you’re looking for the moment it gets easier, this is it
The part where you pause. The part where you recognize the thought. The part where you choose a new one.
It’s not dramatic, but it’s powerful.
Thought literacy won’t stop hard things from happening. But it will stop them from owning you.
That’s the shift. That’s the power. That’s the point.
