On April 6th, 2026, I had a panic attack in the middle of my workday. For the remainder of the day, and for the next several days, I was barely able to look at my work computer, much less log in. How I got there is likely through a combination of factors.

I was laid off from my job of seven years in January 2025, and it took me ten months to find a new job. During those ten months, I'd stopped taking my antidepressants and antianxiety medications, feeling that I could manage my mental health without them; I also wanted to save that money for my wife and child's healthcare. When I returned to work in November, the first couple of months were great, but I could sense signs of a depression/anxiety wave starting in January. We'd also just completed a move in early January, an upheaval that came with its own stressors. Still, I pushed aside the mental health red flags until I couldn't anymore and found a psychiatrist in March. She prescribed me a couple of medications, and I thought that'd be the end of it; for me, antidepressants and antianxiety medications have historically taken about 4–6 weeks to start working their magic. Unfortunately, by April, things had only gone downhill. The medication was causing both insomnia and an initial anxiety spike, which is something I'd read about when trawling the internet for information about it. I just hoped I wouldn't be one of the unlucky victims of those side effects. Surprise!

I suspect now that this mental health episode was sparked by coming back to work after ten months and trying to be the best I could be right away, to prove myself. During those ten months, though, I forgot how to exist in a corporate setting. When I was thrown back into the mix, I quickly realized that the transition from non-employment to employment would be so rocky for me. My colleagues were and are wonderful, and it had everything to do with me, not them.

On the week of my panic attack, my company and my manager acted very quickly. I was very upfront with my supervisor that I'd had a panic attack and was trying to navigate the aftereffects. They quickly got the process started for me to take medical leave, which was a surprise; I'd never expected to take leave so early at a new company. I used my days off to contact my psychiatrist, who helped me file for short-term disability. The work I did on myself during leave turned out to be the best thing I've done for my mental health in years.

While on leave, I was in weekly therapy sessions and also registered for intensive outpatient therapy (IOP). If you've never heard of IOP (I certainly hadn't, despite twenty-plus years of navigating mental health challenges), it entails going to a mental health facility three days per week, three hours per day, meeting in a group setting. Hearing what others were going through was validating. We bonded over some of our issues, and I got to work with some amazing therapists. I'd recommend this kind of therapy to anyone who's been on the mental health treadmill for decades.

I returned to work in early July after three months. Now, I'm doing much better. In addition to medication finally stabilizing, I have tools now that I didn't before. Being at work now hits different, and I'm more engaged and less withdrawn, even if it means putting myself out there and occasionally getting something wrong. So, I'm hopeful, and for now things are good. This last episode was a powerful reminder that mental health is a lifelong condition and requires regular maintenance.