5 Exercises for Getting Through a Dark Night of the Soul When You Can’t Afford to Fall Apart

PERSONAL GROWTH & SELF-DISCOVERY • April 13, 2026

LAST UPDATED: APRIL 2026

Last reviewed: June 2026 by Annie Wright, LMFT

## The 20-Minute Window Between Meetings {#section-1}

The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the quiet room. It’s 9:40 a.m., and Mei sits at her desk, fingers poised over her laptop keyboard but not typing. The soft hum of the office ventilation feels louder than usual, like a low drone pulling her attention away from the spreadsheet open on her screen. Her heart pounds, not from excitement or caffeine, but from the tight knot of dread sitting heavy in her chest.

Her eyes flicker to the mirror mounted on the cubicle wall, catching a glimpse of her face. She sees the faint crease between her brows, the slight tremble of her jaw, and the tightness around her mouth. Mei is in the middle of a dark night of the soul. The kind of internal storm that feels like it could swallow her whole if she lets it. But there’s a board meeting in 20 minutes. She can’t fall apart right now.

She takes a slow, deliberate breath, trying to steady the chaos inside. The taste of stale coffee lingers on her tongue, and the faint scent of perfume she usually loves now feels like a mask she’s wearing to hide the unraveling beneath. Her hands, clammy against the smooth surface of the desk, curl into fists briefly before she loosens them again. The office around her is starting to stir, muffled conversations, the click of heels on the polished floor, but she feels more alone than ever.

Mei’s mind races with the to-do list waiting for her after the meeting, the emails stacking up, the expectations she’s set for herself that won’t pause for a moment of weakness. She wants to scream, cry, collapse, but instead, she straightens her posture, smooths her blouse, and forces a smile she knows won’t reach her eyes.

In my work with clients like Mei, I see this moment often: that fragile space between overwhelm and obligation, where the weight of inner turmoil threatens to break through the surface just as the world demands your strength. How do you carry the weight of your inner storm while stepping into the spotlight? How do you hold yourself together when everything inside feels like falling apart?

This article will explore what happens in that 20-minute window, and how ambitious women can find not just survival, but a path to resilience in those moments.

What Is Nervous System Regulation?

In my work with ambitious women, I often see nervous system regulation misunderstood as simply “staying calm” or “relaxing more.” That’s a limited view, and it can actually set you up for frustration. Regulation isn’t about forcing yourself into one state. Like calm or happiness. All the time. Instead, it’s about building the flexibility to move through different states as needed. Sometimes you need to be alert and energized. Other times, you need to rest and recover. Nervous system regulation is the ability to navigate these shifts skillfully.

Think about your nervous system like a dance partner who’s constantly responding to the music of your environment. When things feel safe, your body can rest and digest. When you face a challenge, your nervous system steps up to help you take action. And when you’re overwhelmed, it might slow you down or shut things off temporarily to protect you. Regulation is the practice of tuning into those signals and helping your nervous system find balance, no matter what the music is playing.

This perspective is especially important for driven women who are used to pushing hard. There’s often pressure to stay “on” and productive, which can lead to ignoring or suppressing signals from the body that say, “I need a break” or “I’m stressed.” Nervous system regulation teaches you to honor those signals rather than override them. It’s clinical work, not just a self-care slogan. If you’ve been wondering why rest doesn’t seem to help and you’re still feeling depleted, it’s worth reading more about burnout therapy,what’s needed often goes deeper than a weekend off.

For example, some exercises help you recognize when your nervous system is in a state of fight, flight, or freeze. Those are natural responses to perceived danger. Then, through guided techniques, you learn how to shift toward a regulated state, where you feel more grounded and able to think clearly. This isn’t about ignoring difficult emotions or pretending everything’s fine. It’s about creating safety inside your own body so that you can engage with stress without being overwhelmed or shut down.

Many people think nervous system regulation is a luxury, something to do only when life slows down. But it’s actually a critical skill for anyone who wants to perform well under pressure and maintain emotional balance. When your nervous system is regulated, your brain has access to its full cognitive resources. This means better decision-making, clearer communication, and stronger relationships. All crucial for ambitious women balancing multiple roles and responsibilities.

Clinical interventions for nervous system regulation draw on body-based awareness, breath work, movement, and mindfulness strategies. These practices help you notice your body’s signals and respond in ways that build resilience over time. It’s not about escaping stress but learning to flow with it, like a river that moves around obstacles rather than crashing against them.

In sum, nervous system regulation is a dynamic process. It’s about developing the capacity to shift between states of activation and calm, presence and rest, connection and self-protection. This skill gives you more control over how you experience stress and allows you to engage fully with your ambitions without sacrificing your well-being. When you approach nervous system regulation as a clinical intervention rather than a feel-good mantra, you tap into a powerful resource for sustained mental and emotional health. To understand the underlying science even more deeply, my piece on trauma and the nervous system walks through how chronic stress rewires your body’s baseline.

## The Neurobiology of the Vagal Brake {#section-3}

In my work with clients, I often explain how our nervous system acts like a finely tuned instrument, constantly adjusting our body’s state to help us survive and thrive. One of the most fascinating components of this system is the “vagal brake,” a term coined by Dr. Stephen Porges, who developed the Polyvagal Theory. Understanding the vagal brake sheds light on how our body signals safety and calms us down after stress.

**THE VAGAL BRAKE**
*The vagal brake is a mechanism controlled by the vagus nerve, a major nerve running from the brainstem to various organs. It acts like a brake pedal on the heart, slowing the heart rate and promoting a sense of calm and safety. When the vagal brake is engaged, it inhibits the fight-or-flight response, allowing us to relax and connect with others.*

The vagus nerve is a key player in the parasympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for rest, digestion, and recovery. When we’re threatened, our sympathetic nervous system revs up, heart rate increases, muscles tense, and adrenaline floods the body. The vagal brake helps counterbalance this by sending signals from the brainstem to the heart, slowing its rate and signaling to the body that it’s safe to relax.

Here’s how it works on a clinical level: The vagus nerve sends electrical signals to the sinoatrial node, the heart’s natural pacemaker. When the vagal brake engages, it releases acetylcholine, a neurotransmitter that reduces the heart’s pace. This decrease in heart rate isn’t just a number on a monitor; it reflects a physiological shift from threat to safety, encouraging systems like digestion and social engagement to come back online.

This process is crucial because it provides our bodies with a biological “pause button.” When the vagal brake is functioning well, we can recover quickly from stress and engage socially with others. When it’s impaired, due to trauma, chronic stress, or certain health conditions, people often feel stuck in fight-or-flight mode, making it difficult to calm down or feel safe. This is one reason why EMDR therapy can be so effective: it works directly with the nervous system’s threat-response patterns, not just the cognitive story around them.

Dr. Porges’ Polyvagal Theory revolutionized how we understand trauma and regulation by highlighting the role of the vagus nerve in emotional and physiological regulation. It explains why trauma can feel like it’s trapped in the body, our nervous system gets stuck in defensive states because the vagal brake isn’t effectively signaling safety.

Body-based therapies, like those developed by Dr. Pat Ogden, founder of Sensorimotor Psychotherapy, focus on restoring this balance. Sensorimotor Psychotherapy uses movement, breath, and awareness of bodily sensations to help clients re-engage their vagal brake. By paying attention to the body’s signals and learning to regulate them, clients can improve their autonomic nervous system’s flexibility, the ability to switch between states of alertness and calm.

In practice, this might look like slow, deep breathing or mindful movement exercises that stimulate the vagus nerve and activate the vagal brake. These interventions help reduce heart rate, ease muscle tension, and promote a sense of safety, making it easier for clients to connect with their emotions and others.

In short, the vagal brake is a biological mechanism that helps us move out of stress and back into a state of calm and social engagement. Understanding it gives us a roadmap for how to support our nervous system, and ourselves, in moments of overwhelm or trauma. When the vagal brake is working, it’s easier to feel grounded, present, and resilient, even in the face of life’s challenges.

## How the Need to Hold It Together Shows Up in Driven Women {#section-4}

Monique sits at her desk, the soft hum of her laptop the only sound in the quiet office. It’s nearly midnight, and her eyes sting from staring at the screen for hours. Her fingers hover over the keyboard, but she feels frozen, caught in a moment between pushing forward and collapsing. The weight of exhaustion presses down on her chest, yet the idea of stopping, even for a moment, feels terrifying. In her mind, letting herself fully feel how tired she’s might mean she won’t find the strength to stand up again tomorrow.

In my work with clients like Monique, I see this image play out repeatedly: driven women who carry a profound need to hold it together, no matter the cost. This need isn’t just about managing responsibilities; it’s a survival strategy rooted in deep-seated fears. For many, the idea of showing vulnerability or admitting exhaustion feels like a threat to their sense of control and identity. They worry that if they crack, even briefly, everything they’ve worked for could unravel.

This manifests in several ways. First, there’s a relentless push to keep going, even when the body signals it’s time to rest. Many women I work with describe a kind of internal alarm that insists, “If you slow down, you’ll fall behind, and there’s no coming back from that.” It’s not just about work; it extends to relationships, self-care, and emotional processing. The drive to appear composed and competent becomes a shield against perceived weakness. For women whose childhoods required them to be the competent one, the parentified child who held things together for everyone else, this pattern often started long before adulthood.

Another common sign is emotional suppression. Driven women often tell me they “can’t afford” to feel overwhelmed or sad. They might notice themselves brushing off feelings or quickly redirecting conversations away from anything that feels too raw. This emotional tightrope walking creates a distance between what they feel and what they express. Over time, it can lead to a sense of isolation, as if they’re carrying their burdens alone.

Perfectionism frequently intertwines with this need to hold it together. The belief that mistakes or cracks are unacceptable fuels a cycle of overwork and self-criticism. When driven women like Monique meet a challenge or setback, they often respond not with compassion but with harsher expectations. This self-imposed pressure can create an exhausting feedback loop that’s difficult to break. Imposter syndrome adds another layer, even genuine competence doesn’t feel like enough, so the bar keeps rising.

Physical symptoms also emerge as a silent alarm. Chronic fatigue, headaches, muscle tension, and even digestive issues can result from the constant effort to maintain composure. Yet, these signs are often minimized or ignored because admitting to them feels like surrendering. The body becomes the container of stress that the mind refuses to acknowledge.

Finally, there’s a pervasive fear underlying all these behaviors: fear of being seen as weak or incapable. This fear isn’t always conscious, but it shapes decisions and interactions. Driven women may hesitate to ask for help, worry about disappointing others, or avoid situations where their vulnerabilities might be exposed. The cost is high, weariness, loneliness, and sometimes a growing sense of disconnection from themselves.

In Monique’s case, her terror about acknowledging exhaustion reflects this pattern. She’s convinced that if she allows herself to feel how deeply drained she’s, she won’t have the energy to rise again. And so, she keeps pushing, locking away her feelings in a mental vault, hoping that sheer willpower will carry her through. This is a familiar story for many driven women, a story that deserves gentle challenge and compassionate understanding.

## The Fragmented Selves and the Parts That Hold the Overwhelm {#section-5}

In my work with driven women, I often see overwhelm not as a single, monolithic experience but as a collection of different parts within the self, each carrying its own burden. These parts can feel like distinct voices or sensations, some screaming for control, others retreating in fear, and still others trying desperately to keep everything together. When we identify wholly with the overwhelm, it can feel like drowning in a storm with no lifeboat. But the reality is more nuanced: overwhelm can be a signal from specific parts of ourselves asking for attention, care, or change.

Janina Fisher, PhD, who’s deeply respected for her work on trauma and internal fragmentation, puts it simply and powerfully:

This idea shifts the focus from battling overwhelm to understanding its sources. In practical terms, this means recognizing that the part of you that feels paralyzed by anxiety or swamped by to-do lists isn’t ‘you’ in your entirety. It’s a part acting out based on past experiences, unmet needs, or current pressures. When we treat overwhelm as a whole-person attribute, we miss the opportunity to engage compassionately with these parts and learn what they need.

I’ve seen clients get stuck in cycles of self-criticism because they believe their overwhelm means they aren’t capable or strong. Instead, when we explore these parts, we often find that the overwhelmed part is trying to protect you from something worse, like burnout, failure, or loss of control. It might be holding onto fear or exhaustion that hasn’t been fully acknowledged. By tuning into this part with curiosity rather than judgment, we open a path to calm and clarity. This is the heart of what I explore in more depth in my writing on the neuroscience of why healing is always possible,your parts aren’t broken, they’re doing their best with what they learned.

This approach also helps you avoid the trap of pushing harder or trying to ‘fix’ yourself through sheer willpower, which rarely works in the long term. Instead, you learn to sit with the discomfort, invite the overwhelmed part to speak, and negotiate what it needs to feel safer or supported. This might mean setting clearer limits, saying no more often, or simply giving yourself permission to rest.

In sum, the overwhelm isn’t the enemy, it’s a fragmented part of you carrying a heavy load. The more you can meet that part with kindness and understanding, the more you reclaim your sense of agency and peace. It’s not about erasing overwhelm but about changing your relationship to it, which is the real key to managing stress and thriving despite the pressures you face.

Both/And: You Don’t Have to Fall Apart AND You Don’t Have to Hold It Together Alone

Jenny sits across from me in the softly lit office, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. She’s just told me about the overwhelming pressure she feels at work, the constant push to meet expectations, and the gnawing exhaustion that follows. Her voice cracks as she admits she sometimes feels like she’s unraveling inside, like the weight might finally make her fall apart. But then she quickly adds, almost apologetically, that she can’t afford to show any weakness, she has to keep everything together. Alone.

I see this all too often in my work with driven women like Jenny. They live with two truths that seem contradictory but are both deeply real. On one hand, they feel like they’re on the edge of breaking down. On the other, they believe they must bear that burden silently, without letting anyone see the cracks. This is the both/and of emotional resilience, not a flip-flop between strength and fragility, but the ability to hold both at once.

It’s exhausting to carry the idea that you must never falter. This mindset tells you that vulnerability is failure, that asking for help is weakness, and that your worth hinges on perfect performance. But that isn’t just untrue, it’s dangerous. In my experience, trying to maintain a flawless exterior alone often leads to isolation, burnout, and deeper emotional wounds. It’s also, I’d argue, a learned pattern, often rooted in attachment trauma that taught you early on that your needs were too much for others to hold.

Jenny’s story illuminates this perfectly. She works in a competitive corporate environment where showing emotion is seen as unprofessional. She’s proud of her accomplishments but haunted by the fear that revealing any struggle would make her seem less capable. So she pushes down the feelings of overwhelm, telling herself she just needs to be tougher. Yet, beneath that armor, she’s quietly drowning.

Here’s the truth: you don’t have to fall apart to be heard or cared for. Cracking open the door to your vulnerability doesn’t mean you lose control or become weak. It means you acknowledge your humanity. You let others see you fully, strengths and struggles alike. That’s where genuine connection and relief begin.

At the same time, you don’t have to hold it all together alone. Reaching out for support doesn’t diminish your independence; it enhances your resilience. Sharing your truth with trusted people, whether a friend, a partner, or a therapist, creates a safety net. It offers perspective, comfort, and practical help. In my work with clients like Jenny, I’ve seen how this shift often sparks a profound transformation. When they stop fighting isolation and start embracing connection, they find strength in unexpected places. If you’ve never tried therapy before and aren’t sure where to start, my guide on starting therapy for the first time walks through what to expect.

Jenny is learning this now. We’re working together to explore what it feels like to say, “I’m struggling,” without judgment or shame. She’s practicing small steps, like confiding in a close colleague or scheduling time with a therapist. It’s not about abandoning her drive or ambition. It’s about giving herself permission to be human within the pursuit of her goals.

Holding these both/and truths is a radical act of self-kindness. You honor your limits without surrendering your aspirations. You allow yourself to be vulnerable without losing your power. You accept help without feeling less capable.

This isn’t easy. It requires courage to defy the cultural scripts that tell ambitious women to be endlessly strong and silently self-sufficient. But embracing both your strength and your need for support is the foundation for sustainable well-being. You can keep moving forward, and you can do it with others by your side.

If you’re like Jenny, feeling torn between the urge to collapse under pressure and the drive to keep it all together alone, know this: you don’t have to choose one or the other. You can hold both truths. You can be real about the struggle and open to support. And when you do, you create space to thrive, not just survive.

The Systemic Lens: The Isolation of the Competent Woman

In my work with clients, I often see how the culture around us sends a clear, harsh message: needing support means you’re weak. This message hits driven women especially hard. From a young age, many of them are praised for being independent, capable, and self-sufficient. It feels good to be competent, to check all the boxes, to push past obstacles. But the cost of that cultural script is loneliness, especially when things get rough.

The story society tells is that if you ask for help, you’re not managing. You’re not strong enough. You’re not enough. This makes women hesitant to reach out when they need it most. They hide their struggles, put on a brave face, and keep going. Over time, that creates a deep isolation. It’s not just about being physically alone; it’s about feeling like no one can really see or understand what’s happening beneath the surface. This is the cultural setup that makes workaholism so normalized, when producing is the safest way to be seen and valued, stopping feels like disappearing.

One of my clients, a driven woman in her 30s, described feeling like she was “carrying the whole world on her shoulders” but too afraid to drop the load. She thought admitting she was overwhelmed would confirm her worst fear: that she was failing. This is common. The pressure to appear competent becomes a prison. It convinces women to bear emotional burdens silently, which only worsens the pain and stress.

This isolation isn’t just an individual problem; it’s systemic. Our workplaces, families, and communities often reward those who “handle it all” without complaint. We celebrate perfection and resilience but rarely create space for vulnerability or support. The narrative leaves no room for the messy, difficult parts of being human. When driven women hit a crisis, they’re often left navigating it alone because the culture has trained them to believe they shouldn’t need help. The cost of not healing compounds quietly over years, not just emotionally, but in relationships, physical health, and a creeping sense that something vital has gone missing.

The impact of this isolation shows up in many ways, burnout, anxiety, depression, and physical health issues. When you don’t feel safe to share your struggles, your body and mind carry the weight silently. In therapy, I work to break this pattern by helping women recognize that needing support isn’t weakness, it’s a human necessity. We’re wired for connection, not isolation.

Changing this cultural script starts with challenging the old stories we tell ourselves and each other. It means naming the isolation and refusing to accept it as normal. It takes courage to reach out, to say, “I’m not okay,” and to let others in. But that’s where real strength lives, not in carrying everything alone, but in building a community that holds you when you can’t hold yourself. You can start by reaching out directly or joining the Strong & Stable newsletter, where driven women show up for each other every week.

The systemic lens shows us that the isolation of the competent woman isn’t about failing individually. It’s about a culture that hasn’t learned how to support ambition without demanding silence. When we shift that, we create space for driven women to thrive, not just survive, by embracing their full humanity, including the need for support.

## How to Heal / The Path Forward {#section-8}

In my work with driven women who refuse to crumble under pressure, I see one truth again and again: healing doesn’t have to mean breaking down entirely before building back up. Sometimes, you need a lifeline in the middle of the storm, a way to steady yourself when falling apart simply isn’t an option. That’s where clinical tools grounded in trauma science come in. They don’t promise instant miracles or magical fixes, but they give you practical, accessible ways to find calm, clarity, and control when your emotional system feels like it’s running a marathon you didn’t sign up for.

Here, I’m sharing five specific exercises that’ve helped my clients tap into their nervous system’s natural capacity to regulate, reorient, and resource themselves. Each one targets a different piece of the puzzle, body, brain, meaning, or internal parts, and together, they create a toolbox you can pull out anytime you’re teetering on the edge. These aren’t about toxic positivity or pushing through your pain. They’re about recognizing your experience, grounding yourself in safety, and reclaiming your agency step by step.

### 1. Polyvagal Grounding: The Physiological Sigh

**What it’s:** This breathing technique helps calm your nervous system by engaging your body’s natural rhythm of breath and heart rate. It’s called a physiological sigh because it mimics the deep sigh your body uses to reset when overwhelmed.

**How to do it:**

1. Sit or stand comfortably with your back straight but relaxed.
2. Take a deep breath through your nose, filling your lungs fully.
3. Without exhaling yet, take a second, shorter breath to top off your lungs.
4. Exhale slowly through your mouth, letting out a soft sigh.
5. Repeat this cycle 2-3 times, noticing the subtle shift in your body’s tension.

**Why it works:** In trauma, our nervous system often gets stuck in a state of hyperarousal (think: fight or flight) or hypoarousal (freeze or shutdown). The physiological sigh engages your parasympathetic nervous system, which helps slow your heart rate and ease muscle tension. It’s like pressing the reset button on your body’s alarm system.

**What to expect:** You may feel a slight release of tension or a momentary calm. This isn’t a magic cure, but over time, regular practice can help you regain control when anxiety or overwhelm threaten to spiral.

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### 2. Orienting with the Eyes: The Grounding Gaze

**What it’s:** This exercise uses the natural reflex of your eyes to scan and take in your environment, helping your brain shift out of threat mode and into curiosity and safety.

**How to do it:**

1. Find a comfortable seated position.
2. Slowly look around your immediate environment, focusing on details, colors, shapes, textures.
3. Spend about 20 seconds identifying five different objects or features.
4. Pay attention to the way your eyes move smoothly from one point to another.
5. Take a deep breath and notice how your body responds.

**Why it works:** When you’re overwhelmed, your nervous system narrows focus on perceived threats. The orienting reflex, your eyes naturally scanning the environment, signals to your brain that it’s safe enough to shift attention outward. This helps interrupt the flood of internal distress and activates your social engagement system, which supports connection and calm.

**What to expect:** This exercise can feel surprisingly grounding. You might notice your heart rate slow or your breathing deepen. It’s a simple way to remind yourself that you’re here, now, and not trapped inside your distress.

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### 3. Somatic Resourcing: Finding a Neutral Place in Your Body

**What it’s:** This technique guides you to identify a part of your body that feels neutral or safe, providing an internal anchor to return to when emotions surge.

**How to do it:**

1. Close your eyes if you feel comfortable or soften your gaze.
2. Scan your body slowly from head to toe.
3. Notice areas that feel neither tense nor uncomfortable, maybe the weight of your feet on the floor, the softness of your thighs in your chair, or the steady rise and fall of your belly.
4. Focus your attention on this neutral spot, breathing into it gently.
5. When distress arises, intentionally bring your awareness back to this place.

**Why it works:** Trauma can fragment our sense of safety in our own bodies. By identifying and returning to a neutral or safe spot, you create an internal resource that reminds you that not all of you is overwhelmed or triggered. This builds resilience and helps regulate your nervous system.

**What to expect:** It might take some practice to find a truly neutral spot, but even a small sense of calm in one part of your body can reduce overall distress. Use this as a steadying point when emotions feel out of control.

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### 4. Meaning-Anchor Exercise: Connecting to Your “Why”

**What it’s:** Inspired by Viktor Frankl’s logotherapy, this exercise helps you anchor yourself in a personal meaning or purpose that can carry you through difficult moments.

**How to do it:**

1. Reflect briefly on a core value or a meaningful reason you keep pushing forward, this could be a relationship, a goal, or a belief.
2. Write down a short phrase or sentence that captures this meaning, like “I’m here for my children” or “Creating helps me heal.”
3. When you feel overwhelmed, pause and repeat your phrase silently or out loud.
4. Take a slow breath and visualize yourself embodying this meaning, even in small ways.
5. Allow this connection to soften the intensity of your emotions.

**Why it works:** Trauma often leaves us feeling disconnected from ourselves and our purpose. Anchoring in meaning helps reorient your brain toward hope and motivation, which can buffer against despair and helplessness. It’s not about ignoring pain but about holding it within a broader context that sustains you. This is the core insight behind the neuroscience of why healing is always possible,your brain can find new pathways, and meaning is one of the most powerful ones.

**What to expect:** This won’t erase pain, but it can shift your perspective enough to keep going when you want to give up. Over time, this exercise strengthens your internal compass.

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### 5. Parts-Based Pause: Checking in with Your Internal System

**What it’s:** Based on Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy, this exercise invites you to pause and notice the different “parts” of yourself that may be reacting, anger, fear, perfectionism, or compassion.

**How to do it:**

1. Take a few deep breaths to settle your body.
2. Ask yourself, “What part of me is most present right now?” It might be a feeling, a voice, or a sensation.
3. Give that part a name or a simple description (like “the worried part” or “the critical part”).
4. Check in with that part by silently asking, “What do you need from me right now?”
5. Offer whatever response feels right, acknowledgment, reassurance, or simply listening, without judgment.

**Why it works:** Trauma can create internal conflict, with different parts of you pulling in opposite directions. Naming and acknowledging these parts reduces their power to overwhelm you. This exercise cultivates self-compassion and curiosity, which are vital for healing. If you find yourself struggling with particularly harsh self-critical parts, it may be worth exploring whether what you’re experiencing is connected to trauma-based self-blame rather than a clear-eyed look at accountability.

**What to expect:** This can feel strange at first, but many find it helps shift from being controlled by emotions to observing them. It’s a subtle but powerful way to create psychological space and choice.

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### Putting It All Together

None of these exercises require hours of preparation or expensive equipment, just your willingness to pause and practice. You don’t have to do all five every time. Start with one that calls to you and see how it feels. Over time, as you build familiarity, you’ll create your own rhythm for when life demands you stay standing even when the ground feels shaky.

Remember, these tools aren’t about perfection or pushing through your pain blindly. They’re about giving yourself permission to breathe, look around, feel grounded, find meaning, and listen to your inner world. Healing isn’t about never breaking, it’s about learning how to catch yourself before you fall too far.

If you find yourself stuck or overwhelmed despite these efforts, reaching out to a trauma-informed therapist can provide the tailored support you deserve. But when you need to steady yourself in the moment, these five exercises can be your first line of defense, and your first step toward reclaiming your calm and clarity. You can also take a quick quiz to better understand where you’re starting from.

I know facing these challenges isn’t easy. It takes courage to confront the parts of yourself that feel broken or overwhelmed. In my work with clients, I see again and again how much strength lives inside you, even when it feels buried beneath exhaustion or doubt. You’re not alone in this, and you don’t have to figure it all out on your own. If you’re ready to move forward with guidance and without judgment, I invite you to join my Direction Through the Dark course. It’s a space I created to hold the complexity and help you find clarity, step by step. Remember, growth doesn’t mean perfection; it means showing up for yourself with honesty and care. I’m here to walk alongside you.

How to Heal: Getting Through a Dark Night of the Soul When You Can’t Fall Apart

In my work with clients who are navigating what can only be described as a dark night of the soul, I notice a particular kind of suffering that doesn’t get talked about enough. The suffering of women who can’t fully collapse because collapsing isn’t an option. There are people depending on them. There are jobs they can’t lose, mortgages they can’t miss, children who need their mom present. And so they carry this profound interior unraveling while showing up, day after day, in ways that make them look completely fine to the outside world. If that’s where you are, I want you to know: I see you, and what you’re doing takes enormous strength. Even if it doesn’t feel that way right now.

Healing during a dark night of the soul, especially when you can’t slow down, looks different than most people imagine. It’s less about dramatic breakthrough and more about building small, consistent anchors throughout the day that keep you tethered to yourself. It’s finding five minutes before the morning meeting to breathe intentionally. It’s giving yourself permission to let certain things be imperfect. It’s choosing one honest conversation over a dozen polished performances. None of that sounds like healing, I know. But it is. It genuinely is.

One approach that translates well into a full life is Somatic Experiencing, a body-based trauma therapy developed by Dr. Peter Levine. Dark nights of the soul often live in the body as much as the mind. In the heaviness behind the sternum, in the way you can’t quite get a full breath, in the 3 a.m. awakening that no amount of melatonin fixes. Somatic Experiencing works gently with those physical sensations rather than requiring you to process everything cognitively. Even a few sessions can begin to restore a baseline sense of physical safety that makes everything else more bearable.

Internal Family Systems (IFS), sometimes called parts work, is another modality I find especially useful here. During a dark night of the soul, it can feel like there are competing voices inside. The part that wants to give up, the part that insists on pushing through, the part that’s quietly terrified. IFS gives those parts language and room, so they don’t have to fight for dominance in the background of every decision you make. When you understand what each part needs, you spend less energy managing yourself and more energy actually living.

For clients who truly can’t take on a regular therapy schedule right now, I sometimes recommend starting with structured journaling as a bridge practice. Not gratitude lists. Something with more teeth. Try writing three sentences each night: one thing that felt hard today, one moment where you kept going anyway, and one small thing that’s still true about who you are. It’s not a cure. But it interrupts the narrative that says you’re disappearing, and that interruption matters.

The pacing piece is crucial. Women who are managing a lot externally while unraveling internally often want to fix the interior crisis with the same intensity they’d bring to a work deadline. But dark nights of the soul don’t respond to sprints. They respond to steadiness. To showing up for yourself with low-drama consistency, even when the progress isn’t visible yet. That might mean therapy every two weeks rather than weekly. It might mean foundational self-care practices instead of an intensive program. It might mean giving yourself a longer timeline than feels comfortable. That’s not giving up. That’s being realistic about your actual life.

You don’t have to wait until you’ve hit a breaking point to ask for support, and you don’t have to be fully falling apart to deserve it. If you’re in the middle of one of the hardest seasons of your life and you’re holding it together on the outside, you’re already showing remarkable resilience. Now let that resilience work for you rather than against you. Reach out, take one step, and let someone meet you in this. Working with a therapist who understands what it means to be functioning and struggling at the same time can make a difference that no amount of willpower alone can replicate. You don’t have to navigate this particular dark night by yourself.

Related Reading

• Dana, Deb. The Polyvagal Theory in Therapy: Engaging the Rhythm of Regulation. W.W. Norton & Company, 2018.
• Fisher, Janina. Healing the Fragmented Selves of Trauma Survivors: Overcoming Internal Self-Alienation. Routledge, 2017.
• Ogden, Pat, and Janina Fisher. Sensorimotor Psychotherapy: Interventions for Trauma and Attachment. W.W. Norton & Company, 2015.
• Frankl, Viktor E. Man’s Search for Meaning. Beacon Press, 1959.

References

Peer-Reviewed Research (Vancouver)

1. Payne P, Levine PA, Crane-Godreau MA. Somatic experiencing: using interoception and proprioception as core elements of trauma therapy. Front Psychol. 2015;6:93. doi:10.3389/fpsyg.2015.00093. PMID: 25699005.
2. Porges SW. Polyvagal Theory: Current Status, Clinical Applications, and Future Directions. Clin Neuropsychiatry. 2025;22(3):169-184. doi:10.36131/cnfioritieditore20250301. PMID: 40735382.
3. Ogden P, Pain C, Fisher J. A sensorimotor approach to the treatment of trauma and dissociation. Psychiatr Clin North Am. 2006;29(1):263-79, xi-xii. PMID: 16530597.

Books & Cultural Sources (Chicago Author-Date)

• Fisher, Janina. Healing the fragmented selves of trauma survivors. Taylor & Francis Group, 2017.
• Dana, Deb. The Polyvagal Theory in Therapy. Norton & Company, Incorporated, W. W., 2018.

Medical Disclaimer

Medical Disclaimer