How To: Manage a Panic Attack

First, name what’s happening, keep it plain.

Not danger, not loss, you're not going insane.

Just say: my body’s alarm is very loud,

a storm in my chest, a nervous cloud.

Sit where your feet can feel the floor.

Let gravity help you just a little more.

Tile or carpet, ground or mat,

the world will hold you where you’re at.

Breathe like you’re rocking a baby to sleep,

slow and steady, calm and deep.

In through your nose, out through your mouth,

let your exhale travel longer south.

Don’t argue with fear, it won’t debate.

Panic hears safety, not logic or fate.

So show it calm in the way you stay,

don't push the feeling, don't run away.

Look around and name what you see:

A chair. A window. Familiarity.

List what is ordinary, solid, and true

the room is not closing in on you.

Unclench your jaw, let your shoulders fall,

release the tension holding it all.

One hand on your chest, one on your core,

stay with yourself a moment more.

If thoughts run fast, don’t take the bait.

Let them pass by; you can wait.

Thoughts are not orders. They come and go.

They're noise, not truth, just let the current flow.

If your heart races, talk to it slow,

it’s trying to help, though it doesn’t know.

Say, thank you for trying, I’m safe today,

and gently lead it back the right way.

Cold can help when heat runs high.

Water on wrists or cool air nearby.

Temperature tells the body where it is,

brings you back from the what-ifs.

If you feel the urge to flee, gently stay.

Let the moment pass without running away.

Plant your feet and let the wave move through.

Staying is something you can still do.

If you feel yourself freeze, move something small.

Wiggle your toes. Press palms to the wall.

Tiny signals, quiet and light,

tell the body it’s safe tonight.

Say this aloud to help you mend:

This isn't forever; this will end.

You’ve walked this before and held your ground.

You’re still here, safe and sound.

Don’t measure success by how calm you feel.

Measure it by how you remain real.

Staying counts. Breathing counts too.

Being here is something you do.

When the feeling recedes, give yourself space.

Drink some water and slow your pace.

Be gentle now, you ran a race.

Rest is not weakness; it’s part of grace.

Panic is loud, but it isn’t true.

It’s not a future coming for you.

It’s just a moment, sharp, then gone.

Moments pass. You carry on.