Recognizing When to Step Back: A Personal Journey with Mental Health

I was at the precipice of another psychotic break.

That was just last week.

I was sitting at my usual spot in the coffee shop, chatting with the barista I see every week, but I wasn’t really there. The words coming out of my mouth felt distant, like I was watching myself from outside my body. I felt like I had no control—my mind racing, my body tense, and the world around me spinning just beyond my reach. After finishing some work, I stood up to leave, and in a blur, I knocked over my chair. The loud clatter disrupted the quiet hum of the café, and I felt every pair of eyes turn toward me as I fumbled to apologize. My heart was racing, my hands shaking, and all I wanted was to escape.

That was my wake-up call. What people in that coffee shop couldn’t see was that I was having a panic attack. My anxiety had been building for months, but on the surface, no one would have known. I looked calm. I was showing up to meetings, doing my work, chatting with people I see regularly. But beneath that calm surface was a storm brewing. Anxiety can often be invisible—masked by routine, conversations, and smiles. This moment was my body’s way of screaming for attention, and it forced me to confront what I had been ignoring.

It’s been seven years since my first and only full psychotic break—the one that sent me to urgent care and later to an OCD therapy clinic where I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and panic disorder. That experience changed my life. It taught me tools to manage my mental health, to recognize the signs of anxiety, and to navigate through the panic. But last week, it felt like I was back at square one. The truth is, mental health is an ongoing journey—it doesn’t have a finish line. Sometimes, anxiety hides itself in plain sight, even from the person experiencing it, and recognizing that is key to managing it.

Had I paid attention to the warning signs earlier, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten to this breaking point. But anxiety can be deceptive—it’s not always loud or obvious. It can quietly build, manifesting as irritability, restlessness, or sleepless nights that you brush off as stress. You tell yourself it’s just part of life, and you keep going. Until you can’t.

So, I did what I should have done earlier—I stepped back. I took space away from the pressures of work and distractions and focused on what really mattered: my well-being. I got outside, hiking in the crisp autumn air, letting nature work its magic on my frayed nerves. Each step on the trail reminded me that this process is ongoing—there’s no quick fix, just continuous care. And I did a few yoga sessions via YouTube videos, reminding myself how powerful breath work can be in grounding me and quieting my mind. The act of returning to yoga wasn’t just for the moment—it was a reminder that I need to keep returning to the practices that help me stay grounded, even when I’m feeling “okay.”

I reached out to my doctor to adjust my medication because what had worked for me in the past wasn’t cutting it anymore. That’s the thing with mental health—it evolves. Just because something worked before doesn’t mean it will always work. I have to stay open to change, and that’s an important part of the journey. I even looked at my diet, cutting back on the coffee and pastries and focusing on healthier choices. Months ago, I had already reduced my caffeine intake, but I knew this was another area where I had to make consistent, conscious decisions. Each small change wasn’t about immediate results; it was about investing in long-term wellness.

At the same time, I’ve had to compartmentalize to manage the exciting projects I’m juggling: launching a consulting business, keeping my options open for HR leadership roles at startups, writing and illustrating a children's book, diving deep into learning about AI, and, of course, raising a toddler. The balancing act is relentless, but I’ve learned that compartmentalizing is not just a tactic—it’s a survival tool. Focusing on one project at a time is how I’ve managed to regain control over my mental space, but it’s something I have to do daily, consciously.

What happened at the coffee shop was a frightening reminder that stepping back isn’t optional—it’s necessary. Stepping back isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s an act of strength. And while it’s easy to feel embarrassed about disrupting a quiet café with a clattering chair, the real disruption was happening inside me. My body was telling me to slow down, to stop ignoring the signs, and to take care of myself. Anxiety had been hidden under the surface for too long, and it forced its way out.

But let me be clear—it’s terrifying to feel out of control, especially in a public place like a coffee shop. Panic attacks can feel like near-death experiences, and when I share techniques like yoga, hiking, or breath work, it’s not to diminish the magnitude of how real and overwhelming that fear is. These techniques are not magic solutions; they’re part of a continuous process, and they help me manage my mental health, day by day.

I’m not fully healed. I never will be, and that’s okay. I have to actively work on managing my anxiety every single day. It’s an ongoing journey, and while there will be moments that feel terrifying, there are also moments of clarity and control. The key is recognizing when to pause, when to recalibrate, and when to make space to thrive—because that’s where the healing happens, step by step.

We must also remember that anxiety doesn’t always wear its symptoms openly. It’s often hidden beneath the surface, both in ourselves and in others. That’s why it’s important for everyone—not just those who struggle with mental health—to stay aware. By fostering a deeper understanding of mental health, we can support one another in building more strength and resilience. Together, we can create environments where mental health is prioritized, and where everyone can thrive, even through the invisible battles.

Photo Credit: Tero Vesalainen via Adobe Stock