How I retrained my anxious mind, one small decision at a time

When I first started dealing with anxiety, I assumed it would end with a breakthrough. Like one day, I’d finally figure it out—journal the right words, say the right affirmation, do enough breathwork to feel permanently calm.

That moment never came.

What did come were ordinary days that I had to live through slowly. Some were shaky. Some were fine. Some had me convinced I was going backward.

But little by little, something softened. I stopped spiraling as often. I didn’t panic when I felt discomfort. I started feeling more like myself.

Overcoming anxiety isn’t linear. It doesn’t come with a finish line or a gold star.

It happens one small, deliberate decision at a time—often in the exact moments when you feel most afraid, most exhausted, and most tempted to fall back into old patterns.

And for what it’s worth, I’m still not “done.” But I’m far from where I started.

This is what that road has actually looked like.

Why we misunderstand anxiety

A lot of people think anxiety is just nervousness. Like stage fright or social awkwardness. Something you feel before a big moment.

But chronic anxiety is something else.

• It’s waking up with tension in your chest for no reason.
• It’s running disaster scenarios in your head while you’re brushing your teeth.
• It’s overanalyzing a text message to the point where you decide not to reply at all.
• It’s feeling unsafe in your body even when everything around you is fine.

Anxiety doesn’t always look panicked.

Sometimes it looks like being overly polite. Saying yes when you mean no. Overpreparing for things no one asked you to prepare for. Feeling exhausted by tasks that other people breeze through.

It’s a full-time job running in the background of your life—and no one else sees it.

How anxiety warps your perception of reality

One of the most frustrating things about anxiety is that it distorts how you see the world. It doesn’t just tell you that something might go wrong. It convinces you it will.

You become a master of detecting imaginary threats. A glance becomes a judgment. Silence becomes rejection. A normal delay becomes “they hate me.”

It’s not drama — it’s hypervigilance.

Your nervous system is in survival mode, even when there’s no danger.

The scariest part?

You believe your thoughts. You don’t question them. They feel like facts.

So the work of overcoming anxiety isn’t just calming your body.

It’s slowly retraining your mind to pause and ask: “Is this true—or is this fear talking?”

That one question can be life-changing.

The smallest choices make the biggest difference

There’s no singular technique that cured my anxiety. What helped were small, repetitive acts of self-respect.

Noticing when I was spiraling—and choosing to close the laptop and go for a walk.

• Putting my hand on my chest and saying, “It’s okay to feel this.”
• Reminding myself that I didn’t need to answer every message immediately.
• Going to sleep at the same time each night, even when I felt restless.
• Letting a wave of discomfort rise—and trusting that it would also pass.

These moments didn’t feel like progress at the time. But looking back, they were everything.

Healing doesn’t look like suddenly feeling better.

It looks like making better decisions in the same old situations.

What my inner dialogue started to sound like

When I was deep in anxiety, my inner voice was constantly loud. And mean.

“You’re too much.”
“They’re bored of you.”
“You always mess this up.”
“Don’t say that—you’ll look stupid.”

And I didn’t realize how much of my behavior was built around avoiding that voice.

But over time, I started challenging it.

Not by screaming over it—but by responding with curiosity.

What are you afraid will happen?
What’s the worst-case scenario—and what’s the realistic one?
What if this isn’t a problem to fix but a feeling to sit with?

Eventually, my inner voice stopped sounding like an interrogator and started sounding more like a friend.

Not always. Not perfectly. But often enough to feel different.

The body carries what the mind avoids

One of the biggest turning points for me was realizing that anxiety wasn’t just in my head.

It was in my chest. In my gut. In my breath.

Sometimes it would hit before a thought even showed up. Because anxiety doesn’t start with logic. It starts with sensation.

Bessel van der Kolk’s book The Body Keeps the Score opened my eyes to this. He talks about how trauma—and even unprocessed stress—gets stored in the body.

Your muscles hold it. Your nervous system gets used to it.

Which means healing isn’t just “thinking positively.” It means you’re helping your body feel safe again.

I started doing less goal-oriented exercise and more intentional movement.

Gentle yoga. Slow walks. Deep breathing where I actually focused on the exhale.

And when I got overwhelmed, I stopped trying to talk myself out of it.
Instead, I’d ask: “Where do I feel this in my body?”
Then I’d breathe into it. Stay with it. Let it pass on its own.

That changed everything.

The slow process of building trust

Anxiety made me doubt myself constantly. It made me question my instincts, my words, my choices.

So a big part of healing was rebuilding trust with myself. And honestly, that took time.

It looked like letting myself make small mistakes without spiraling.
It looked like celebrating when I set a boundary—even if I felt guilty afterward.
It looked like trying something new—even if I didn’t get it right the first time.

Every time I followed through on a promise to myself—resting when I was tired, showing up even though I was afraid—I added another brick to that foundation.

And with enough bricks, you start to feel grounded again.

How spirituality and mindfulness helped me cope

I’ve talked about this before, but mindfulness became my anchor. Not as a quick fix—but as a daily practice of paying attention.

It taught me to observe my thoughts instead of becoming them.
To feel anxiety without having to do something about it.
To accept that discomfort isn’t the enemy.

In Hidden Secrets of Buddhism, I write about how so much of our suffering comes from resistance.
From wanting things to feel different, what they do. But when you allow what’s present to simply exist — you stop feeding it.

That’s not easy. But it’s powerful.

Even just 5 minutes of breath awareness a day can rewire your nervous system.

And that’s not philosophy—that’s neuroscience.

What real progress looks like

It doesn’t look like being anxiety-free.
It looks like…

• Having a rough morning and still showing up for your day

• Noticing your overthinking—and laughing at it instead of panicking

• Feeling anxious and doing the thing anyway

• Catching yourself mid-spiral and choosing to step outside

• Apologizing without shame

• Canceling plans when needed—but not isolating out of fear

• Asking for support without feeling like a burden

• Telling yourself, “This is uncomfortable, not dangerous”

And most of all, it looks like living your life.
Even with the noise.
Even with the waves.

Because they do get smaller. You just get better at swimming through them.

To finish

Overcoming anxiety isn’t about becoming a new person. It’s about returning to yourself—without the noise, the fear, the constant second-guessing.

It happens one moment at a time.

One breath. One decision. One thought that you let pass instead of grabbing onto.

And the more you practice that, the more space you create.

Space for joy. Space for rest. Space for trust.

So if you’re in the thick of it right now—feeling like you’ll never escape the tension or the noise—I want you to know this:

You’re not broken.
You’re not failing.
You’re healing.

And it doesn’t have to be perfect to be working.

So breathe. Choose the next kind thing. Let that be enough—for now.

Because real peace?

It’s built day by day, thought by thought.