I teach yoga. I meditate daily. Today, I had a panic attack.

Today, during a gloriously soothing holistic treatment, I had a panic attack.

I am a yoga teacher. I have Level 2 counselling training, I am a mental health first aider, and I hold lots of other qualifications in wellbeing. I have endlessly studied the vagus nerve and the nervous system. I live and breathe my yoga practice, meditate and practise breathwork daily.

I am also a mum, a wife, a small business owner and a home educator. And underneath every one of those roles, I am human. A human being who needed care today.

I have autism and ADHD, and I am in perimenopause. There is a lot whizzing around in my head at the moment. For me, that combination can feel like a playground for anxiety. I understand why panic has shown up today, even though the moment it chose might seem surprising.

I am always honest about my mental health. I’m an open book because I feel it is important for my students to know that when I speak about mental health challenges, I am speaking from lived experience as well as books and training courses. These are experiences I live with, alongside the practices I teach.

I hadn’t had a panic attack for some time. Today reminded me that they are still an issue for me. That is hard to acknowledge, but it doesn’t erase the time I have spent feeling well or the ways I have learnt to support myself.

I’m sharing this because we need more room for these experiences in conversations about wellbeing. Room for the yoga teacher who experiences panic. The person who supports others and also needs support. The woman who knows the tools and still has moments that overwhelm her.

Our knowledge and our practices can support us enormously. They do not make us immune to being human.

Understanding something doesn’t mean we can always prevent it

Panic can happen when the body’s alarm system activates, even when there is no obvious danger. It can bring a racing heart, trembling, dizziness, breathlessness or an overwhelming sense of fear. For me, it brings sudden nausea, a 'whoosh' of heat from my feet to the crown of my head, and a feeling of free-falling. Sometimes there is a recognisable trigger; sometimes there isn’t. Often my panic attacks ambush me when I am at my most relaxed and safe; like when I am about to receive a glorious indian head massage from Claira!

The experience is real, even when the surroundings are peaceful.

Understanding the nervous system doesn’t give me complete control over it.

Knowing about the vagus nerve and polyvagal theory doesn’t mean I can simply instruct my body to feel safe. Meditating every day doesn’t promise that every day will feel calm.

There is no qualification that exempts us from vulnerability.

Today doesn’t undo my practice or diminish what I offer others. It reminds me that I belong among the people who need kindness, too.

Making room for meaning, without forcing it

Through yoga, we sometimes speak about our experience in terms of prana, or life energy. That language can offer a meaningful way to reflect on sensations, emotions and the feeling of something moving through us.

But I want to be careful with the idea that panic attacks “release energy”.

A sense of release or relief may be part of someone’s experience afterwards. It certainly is for me, along with a sense of exhaustion. That doesn’t establish that panic is the body clearing stored energy, or that an attack is necessary for healing.

I can hold my love of yoga alongside that uncertainty. I don’t need a complete explanation of what happened today to respond to myself with compassion.

And perhaps that is where gratitude can find a place.

Gratitude for receiving care. For having somewhere to be vulnerable. For the reminder that I am allowed to seek the support I so readily encourage other people to accept.

We don’t have to feel thankful for the panic itself. We don’t have to turn a frightening experience into a lesson before we have even caught our breath. Sometimes, “That was hard, and I deserve gentleness” is enough. Ahimsa, always.

The women who make room for us

Creating safe spaces for women matters deeply to me.

I want the spaces I offer to welcome the whole person: the woman who feels grounded, the woman who feels overwhelmed, and the woman who doesn’t yet have words for how she feels.

A space where there is no pressure to perform calmness. Where you can ask to pause, change your mind, have a cry or simply be quiet. Where your boundaries matter, and your needs are heard.

Today, purely by chance, I received the most wonderful email from one of my students expressing her gratitude for the safety, community and support my classes offer. It was such beautiful timing and soothed my soul.

It is also important to say that safety cannot be guaranteed by a soothing room or a beautiful practice. It grows through how we respond to one another, especially when something unexpected happens. Claira looked after me so wonderfully (I even got a Jaffa Cake!), and I am deeply grateful for her care. In a moment of vulnerability, being cared for mattered more than anything I knew about wellbeing.

You are allowed to need support

If you have ever felt embarrassed about experiencing panic, I hope this helps soften that judgement. You can have years of practice and still have a difficult day. You can understand what is happening and still find it frightening. You can be capable, caring and knowledgeable, and still need someone beside you.

If panic is recurring or affecting your life, reaching out for professional support is a valid part of caring for yourself. And new or unfamiliar physical symptoms deserve medical advice rather than an assumption that they are anxiety.

Today, I was a yoga teacher who had a panic attack during a soothing treatment. I was also a woman who was wonderfully cared for.

Thank you, Claira, for looking after me. And thank you to all of the women out there who create spaces where we can bring our whole selves. I hope you know who you are.

Vicki x