🚨 JUST IN: Carson Daly finally opens up about the frightening live TV incident that left him convinced he was seconds from collapsing on national television⚡ .QN

Carson Daly has spent decades in front of a camera — from the height of MTV’s pop-culture frenzy to mornings on Today — but one of the scariest moments of his life happened long before he spoke openly about mental health. And at the time, he didn’t even know what was happening to him.

Speaking at the inaugural gala for Project Healthy Minds, held on World Mental Health Day, the longtime broadcaster reflected on his first panic attack — a moment that left him truly convinced he might not survive.

He set the scene: New York City, early 2000s. Daly was in his dressing room at MTV’s Total Request Live, hearing the familiar noise of fans chanting outside Times Square. Music blaring. Car horns honking. The typical chaos of live TV. And then… everything shifted.

“One September day, I thought I was going to die,” Daly said during his speech. “I was getting ready like any other afternoon, waiting to walk out and start the show. Then suddenly, there was this snap in my brain. That’s the only way I can describe it.”

At first, he didn’t realize the symptoms were panic. Daly remembers his heart slamming inside his chest and a cold sensation spreading down his neck. The world around him slowed like a movie being rewound. His producer was speaking — something about the band Hanson — but Daly couldn’t hear a word. His vision distorted. His thoughts spiraled.

“I thought, ‘Oh my God, I’m having a stroke… and I’m having it in front of Hanson,’” he joked, reflecting on the moment with the dry humor fans know him for. But beneath the joke remains the seriousness of his fear: he truly believed that was the end.

The attack lasted only around 30 seconds. But for Daly, those seconds felt like a lifetime.

Despite the chaos inside his mind, Daly managed to walk out onto the TRL stage and host the show as if nothing was wrong. “On autopilot,” he said. A polished performance on the outside — sheer panic underneath.

The terror didn’t fade afterward. Instead, a new fear arrived: the worry that it would happen again at any moment. That fear changed everything.

“When the show ended and the lights went down, I couldn’t relax. I thought, ‘What if this hits again? What if next time I can’t hide it?’” Daly recalled. He went to a doctor soon after, hoping for answers. That’s when he first heard the term: panic attack. Stress and anxiety, the doctor said, had been building inside him — and his body finally erupted in response.

But getting a diagnosis didn’t instantly solve things. Daly tried to slow down, but anxiety doesn’t disappear just because someone names it. Panic continued to surface, often unexpectedly, making ordinary tasks feel threatening.

For years, he kept it mostly private. He didn’t have the language yet — or the role models — to talk about it publicly. But one conversation with a friend changed everything. He shared what he’d been experiencing, expecting confusion, maybe disbelief. Instead, the friend immediately recognized the symptoms. They had battled anxiety too.

“You have anxiety,” they told him.

It was the first time Daly understood there was a community of people who had lived through similar fear — and survived it. He eventually began therapy, including cognitive behavioral treatment, and learned how to manage panic attacks when they strike.

In a previous interview with PEOPLE, Daly described the overwhelming relief that came with understanding his condition. “I’ve suffered for over 20 years with debilitating anxiety and panic, and never knew it,” he admitted. “Now when I feel those symptoms, I don’t think I’m dying. I know it will pass.”

He says naming the fear helps shrink its power — and speaking out lifts the weight of secrecy.

Today, Daly openly advocates for mental health awareness. As a father of four, he hopes conversations like his lead the next generation to view mental health care as not just necessary but normal. He wants young people — especially those who feel pressure to be perfect — to know vulnerability is strength.

That’s why he continues to share his story. Not because the anxiety is gone, but because he has learned how to live with it — and how to help others feel less alone in their struggles.

“I’ve learned it’s okay to say, ‘I’m not okay,’” he told the audience. “It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

Daly’s message is clear: reaching out is the first step. If someone is struggling, whether in a crowded dressing room or a quiet moment at home, they deserve support — and a reminder that panic does not define them.