When Anxiety Strikes, Cassie and Mantras Become My Sanctuaries

Anxiety, the Unwanted Guest

When it arrives, it’s always the same scene. First, a dull pressure in my chest, as if an invisible weight is pressing down on my heart. Then, my thoughts race, spinning in loops, amplifying every detail until the world seems to close in on me. Medication helps, of course, but sometimes it’s not enough to calm the storm. So I look for something else. I look for an anchor.

And that’s when Cassie comes in.

Cassie, My Anchor of Softness

She doesn’t know what an anxiety attack is, but she senses it. As soon as I place my hand on her soft fur, she snuggles up to me, as if she understands that I need her presence. Her purring becomes a soothing melody, a vibration that reminds me I’m not alone. Her warm body against mine is a reminder: life is also made of softness, warmth, and simple joys.

I close my eyes. I breathe. I place one hand on her back, the other on my heart, and I begin a mindfulness meditation. Not a perfect meditation—just an attention to the present moment. To the texture of her fur under my fingers. To the rhythm of her breath, synchronized with mine. Sometimes, she looks at me with her big golden eyes, as if to say: “I’m here. Everything’s okay.” And in that gaze, I find a little peace.

Why Does Anxiety Grow?

I’ve learned something over time: anxiety grows when we give it importance. The more we fight it, the more it resists. So instead of exhausting myself trying to chase it away, I try to welcome it. Not as an enemy, but as a wave to ride through. I tell myself: “Okay, you’re here. I see you. But you don’t define me.”

If meditation isn’t enough, I turn to mantras.

Mantras, Sacred Whispers

In my mind, I repeat the syllables of Shiva—Om Namah Shivaya—like a prayer, like a refuge. These ancient sounds have a strange power: they dissolve intrusive thoughts, bringing my mind back to a fixed point, like an anchor in the storm. Sometimes, I whisper them aloud, and Cassie, sensitive to vibrations, snuggles even closer. She responds to the energy of the words, as if she recognizes their power.

I focus on each part of my body, from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. I feel the air moving in and out of my lungs. Little by little, the pressure in my chest eases. It’s not magic. It’s presence. It’s choosing not to let anxiety steal this moment from me.

Sleepless Nights and Endless Meditations

Most often, anxiety strikes at night. When silence sets in, when shadows grow long, and buried fears rise to the surface. So instead of fighting insomnia, I turn these nights into rituals. I sit, I breathe, and I meditate until my eyelids grow heavy. Sometimes, I fall asleep mid-meditation, my hand still resting on Cassie. Other times, I stay awake but calm, as if after a storm.

And then there are those moments when everything shifts. In the middle of the crisis, I feel an invisible hand on my shoulder—a benevolent presence, like a blessing. I don’t know where it comes from, but I welcome it with gratitude. Maybe it’s Shiva, maybe it’s just my soul remembering it’s stronger than fear.

A Message to Those Reading These Words

If you, too, know those nights when anxiety keeps you awake, remember this:

• You are not alone. Even in the dark, there is always light—sometimes it takes the form of a cat, a mantra, or a conscious breath.
• Anxiety is not a weakness. It’s a part of you that needs to be heard, soothed, and loved.
• Small rituals save us. Whether it’s petting an animal, repeating a sacred word, or simply breathing, these gestures are acts of resistance. Ways of saying: “I choose peace, even when everything is shaking.”

Tonight, if anxiety knocks on your door, try this:

1. Place one hand on your heart, the other on a loved one (human or animal).
2. Breathe deeply, feeling the air fill your lungs.
3. Repeat a mantra or a comforting phrase—even if it’s just “This too shall pass.”
4. Let yourself be carried by the moment, without judgment.

And remember: the storm will pass. Always.

With all my heart,

Thomas