Bruno Mars vs. Anxiety: How Music Helped Me Conquer My Nighttime Fear

3 AM, Rocky Mountains: When Fear Takes Over

It’s 3 AM. I’m 10,000 feet above sea level in the Rocky Mountains. Outside, the sky is endless, the stars impossibly close. It should be magical. But my body has other plans.

The moment I start to drift off, my breathing slows—and my body panics. "Not enough oxygen. Try again later." My brain snaps awake, red lights flashing: "Alert! Alert! We have a problem!" The only thing I can think about? Panic.

The Warning Signs Were Always There

I should have seen this coming.

Christmas in Austria, 6,500 feet up. While other families sang carols, mine called an emergency doctor. The Schnalstal Glacier? A week spent in "Die Slowly" mode. Others adjusted; my body refused.

And yet, here I am—living in Mexico City at 7,200 feet. I should have adapted by now, right? Except my body missed the memo.

By day, I function—more or less. Stairs feel like Everest. But at night, it begins again. My breath deepens, my body relaxes—and suddenly, I’m gasping for air. The altitude, the dry air, the pollution—it all conspires against me. And the worst part? The fear of the fear itself.

When Anxiety Becomes Its Own Monster

It’s no longer just a physical issue. Now, it’s psychological warfare.

The moment I wake up gasping, my body reacts as if a saber-toothed tiger is standing at my bedside. A flood of adrenaline. Racing thoughts. Every remedy under the sun—nasal sprays, humidifiers, steam baths—has failed me.

So, what do I do?

Can Distraction Be a Lifeline?

For years, I saw distraction as the enemy. "Face your fears," they say. But what if fear thrives in attention?

This is where Bruno Mars enters the story.

Bruno Mars: My Prescription for Panic Attacks

It started by accident—an earworm stuck in my head: Bruno Mars’ ode to Brazil. At 5 AM, when the panic carousel started again, I let him take over.

Suddenly, my brain was on a different stage. The music pulled me in. The drama quieted. My focus shifted. And just like that, anxiety lost its grip.

Sure, after 30 minutes of this mental concert, I needed coffee. But hey—better exhausted than terrified.

Rethinking Anxiety: Is Distraction a Hidden Superpower?

Maybe we’ve been looking at distraction the wrong way.

Instead of numbing ourselves with screens, what if we used distraction as a conscious tool? A way to shift focus, reroute thought patterns, reclaim control?

Perhaps one day, doctors will prescribe Bruno Mars alongside meditation and therapy. Until then, I’ll keep playing that song—because, for now, it’s my best medicine.

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Time and SpaceJutta Meissner