Deconstruct what you build.
My first true wake-up call came in 1996, when I was just 21. A broken heart had thrown me into a spiral of panic attacks and depression, and I suddenly had no choice but to search for a way to heal myself. People often said that “difficult times make you stronger” or that “everything happens for a reason.” At the time, it sounded like a logical explanation (or maybe just a way to make sense of what felt unbearable) but today I see it very differently.
My healing journey began with acupuncture. During one of my sessions, my practitioner suggested I try Zen meditation at a small center tucked away in the mountains of Mérida, Venezuela, in a place called El Valle. At that point, I was desperate and willing to try anything. So I went. I sat. I practiced. I stayed. I learned discipline. It wasn’t easy, but over the course of eight months, little by little, I began to free myself from what I once believed was the root of my suffering. Slowly, I started to reconnect with myself and find my center again.
I embraced the practice so deeply that almost nothing could disturb my peace. I remember waking up in the mornings feeling like the happiest person alive. The very first thought as I opened my eyes was, “Wow, what a joy, another day to live.” Filled with that energy and ready to embrace life fully, I eventually returned to the United States, where I continued my meditation practice and even moved close to a Zen center in San Francisco, California. But only a couple of months later, life tested me again with another unexpected challenge.
I went to Red Rocks in Las Vegas, eager to push my climbing grades and tick off some classic routes. I was blown away by the beauty of the desert landscape, but on just my second day, everything changed. I fell badly from an overhanging route and completely shattered my ankle. A helicopter had to rescue me, and I underwent surgery the very next day. Already in a recovery mindset, I tried not to let myself sink into despair, but the shock hit me hard when, two weeks later, doctors discovered a severe infection, likely from the operating room itself.
Suddenly, I found myself back in the hospital, surrounded by five different specialists debating whether it would be safer to amputate my foot. I refused to give in. Every day, I visualized my leg healthy and whole, I sang mantras, and I meditated. But one day, exhausted, I simply surrendered. I prayed. Because there are moments when you can no longer carry the full responsibility of healing alone, I had to hand it over to God, in whatever form we believe He exists.
Luckily, the doctors didn’t have to cut my foot off, and little by little, I began to heal. I couldn’t walk for almost nine months, but eventually I got back on my feet with one stiff ankle and limited mobility that forced me to slow down. But not for too long.(Below, I’ve attached a photo of my ankle today. It has been more than 30 years since then and believe it or not it's still functional but WARNING f you’re sensitive to images, you may want to avoid scrolling all the way down).
In 2000, I decided to return to my home country to compete again and prove to myself what I was truly capable of. The results were beyond what I imagined: I won all four national championships and secured a spot at the Panamerican contest in Chile, where I stood on the podium with a third-place finish.
Since then, meditation has always been my ally : the guiding thread that holds everything together, no matter what challenges life throws my way.
But this belief was shaken once again when life offered me a new opportunity to rediscover myself. A couple of years ago, I found myself slipping back into depression. Of course, meditation was the first tool I turned to since it had always been my anchor. But this time, to my shock, it didn’t seem to work. How could that be? This was a legendary practice, one that had carried me through so many storms before. So what was wrong with me?
I discovered that when anxiety levels are extremely high, meditation can actually become just one more task on your to-do list. Instead of calming your mind, it can add pressure, which, when you’re already overwhelmed, can feel like too much. Over time, I found a few techniques that helped me regulate my nervous system, which I’ll share below. Once I managed to stabilize myself, I was able to return to meditation.
If you’re a meditator and having trouble understanding, imagine this: You leave your mountain cabin with all the windows and doors open, and a storm comes through. When you return, everything is a mess : broken glass, branches scattered across the floor. Would you sit down to meditate in a place like that, or would you first clean up the mess? The same goes for your mind and body. Coming back to your “cabin”(yourself) and tidying up what’s inside is the first step. And that alone is already a huge accomplishment.
So I started cleaning my “cabin” by trying a few simple techniques:
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Iced water and breath: When anxiety reached high levels, I dipped my face in iced water, held my breath for a few seconds, and repeated it 2–4 times or as many times as I needed to help stabilize my heart rate.
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Grounding with your environment: This works really well for panic attacks or simply bringing yourself back to the present. If you’re with someone, have them randomly point out objects around you, and acknowledge them. For example: “Can you see the tree?” and you respond, “Yes.” The other person says, “Thanks,” and continues pointing out things until you feel more grounded. If you’re alone, you can do this yourself, even while driving! Simple things like noticing a traffic light, a sign, or a tree and acknowledging their presence, help you step away from the ‘monkey mind,’ and this can have a surprisingly strong effect in bringing you back to the "now".
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Hz wave tracks: I also listened to some HZ wave music, which helped me regulate my nervous system. Sometimes I even fell asleep, but it really recharged my energy and calmed my mind.
Finally, I returned to meditation, but this time with a gentler approach. Don’t pressure yourself to sit for an hour, just five minutes is enough. It’s not about perfection; even a few minutes can help you regain focus and grownd you.
The key is to start where you are, without judgment. Take one small step at a time. Tend to your “cabin” before trying to sit in it. Over time, these small actions add up, and you begin to feel steadier and more present.
And one last thing: Don’t cling to a single method. Be open to learning, experimenting, and even deconstructing what you’ve built. Sometimes the path forward means letting go of what you thought worked and discovering new ways to find clarity.
I’ve let meditation be a part of my life again, and now I've realised it has helped me remember to "close the windows and doors”" before I leave my cabin for a walk.
If you ever find yourself in a situation like this, I truly hope these tips can help you.
May you be happy!
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