How do you give yourself permission for things to not be okay right now?

You may feel like you’re on autopilot and that the challenge of this situation has lodged itself like an angry storm in your body and mind, but it won’t always be this way.

One day you’ll wake up feeling more like yourself.

More hopeful. Less scared. More assured. Less shaky.

Keep putting one foot in front of the other until that day comes.

You know how to do this. You’ve done it before.

Honey, at the risk of dismissing your experience I want to say something: this is IT. This is the hardness of being a human, of being an adult.

It’s actually really, really hard sometimes.

Anyone who tells you otherwise probably isn’t being honest about their own experience.

Being human, being an adult with responsibilities, with relationships, obligations, debts, needs, and bodies that require special care can feel so crummily hard some days.

You’re in it right now. You’re getting the hard part of the human experience.

Will it always feel this painful?

But while it is, please try and be as kind to yourself as you can.

Maybe kindness looks like being actionable.

Maybe kindness looks like slowing down.

Maybe kindness looks like reaching out for support.

Maybe kindness looks like doing this on your own, keeping your tender vulnerability close to your heart.

However kindness looks for you right now, be that to yourself.

There’s no one right way to handle very hard days. Whatever works for you is the way.

If you don’t know what works for you, still yourself for a moment and tune in. See what your body/mind/soul has to say.

If the only thing that pops up is having a bowl of popcorn for dinner, that’s wonderful.

If it looks like reaching out to your therapist, great.

If it looks like going on an angry sprint run, so be it.

What can you do to comfort yourself when you’re in acute pain?

The people who love you (and yes, there are people who love you) care about you. You matter to people.

Take care of yourself. Take comfort in whatever you can.

Recall all the times you’ve overcome, when you’ve managed situations that feel unmanageable.

Reflect on those moments in your life when things turned out better than you ever could have imagined and never could have anticipated that at the time.

Maybe, and I know this is a bit out there, think of the long line of ancestors you come from who likely overcame and navigated so, so much just so you could be here.

You come from a line of survivors. You will survive this, too.

For now, go take care of yourself. However that looks.

Please know that I’m here, rooting for you, wanting only good things for you, trusting that all will be well for you.

I see you.

How can trauma-informed support help you find your way through a crisis?

When you arrive at therapy after life has delivered an unexpected blow, a diagnosis, a betrayal, a loss that’s left you alternating between frantic action and complete paralysis, your therapist understands that crisis requires both doing and feeling, that 101 self-care suggestions when it all feels like too much might help but won’t fix the fundamental shattering you’re experiencing.

They sit with you in the not-knowing, validating how terrifying it feels when nothing in your control can change the situation. Your therapist doesn’t rush to silver-line or problem-solve but acknowledges this fundamental truth: sometimes life genuinely sucks, and pretending otherwise invalidates your very real pain.

Together, you create what they call a “crisis protocol”,identifying what’s actually within your control (surprisingly little) versus what feels urgent but isn’t actionable (surprisingly much). They help you recognize when you’re using hyperactivity to avoid feeling or when you’re drowning in emotions without taking necessary practical steps.

Your therapist guides you in remembering previous impossible situations you’ve survived. Not to minimize current pain but to remind your nervous system of its proven resilience. They help you see the throughline of survival in your story, every crisis you’ve weathered is evidence of your capacity to weather this one.

They normalize the autopilot state, explaining that maintaining basic functions while emotionally reeling isn’t failure but appropriate crisis response. Returning work emails while your chest burns with anxiety, making dinner while your mind spins, this is what survival looks like in real time.

Most importantly, your therapist helps you hold paradox: this is unbearably hard AND you will survive it. You don’t know how it will resolve AND you’ve figured out every previous impossibility. The situation might be genuinely terrible AND something unexpected might emerge.

Wrapping up.

Now, I’d love to hear in the comments below:

What are some of the words of comfort you return to on really hard days?
What helps you feel grounded, soothed, or even just a little more steady when life feels overwhelming?

Please leave a message so our community of 25,000 monthly website visitors can benefit from your wisdom.
You never know who might need to hear exactly what you have to share.

Here’s to healing relational trauma and creating thriving lives on solid foundations.

Warmly,
Annie

Related Reading

• What does it mean to be an ambitious, upwardly mobile woman from a relational trauma background?
• Attachment Trauma: How Early Relationships Shape Your Adult Connections
• Trauma and Relationships: When Your Professional Strengths Become Your Relationship Blindspots

What Your Nervous System Is Doing on Very Hard Days

Here’s something I want you to understand: on the days that feel unbearable, your nervous system is not broken. It’s doing exactly what it was designed to do.

When you’re in acute distress. When the chest is tight and the thoughts are spinning and everything feels impossible. Your body has moved outside what Dr. Dan Siegel, clinical professor of psychiatry at the UCLA School of Medicine, calls the window of tolerance. This is the zone in which your nervous system can process experience without becoming overwhelmed or shutting down entirely. Outside that window, you’re either in hyper-arousal (anxiety, panic, racing thoughts, the urge to do something, anything) or hypo-arousal (numbness, dissociation, flatness, the inability to get off the couch). (PMID: 11556645)

Both states are survival responses. Both have roots in your history. And both deserve compassion rather than criticism.

For the driven women I work with, hyper-arousal often looks like trying to problem-solve their way out of a feeling. Making lists, taking action, reaching for the phone. Hypo-arousal looks like staring at the ceiling at 2 AM and feeling nothing. Sometimes the same day delivers both.

What helps. Genuinely, physiologically helps. Is titrated co-regulation. Not someone telling you it will be okay, but a regulated presence (human or, in a pinch, the steady rhythm of your own breath, your own hand on your own chest) that signals to your body: the threat has passed. You can come back to yourself now.

Marisol, a client I worked with who was navigating a job loss and the end of a long-term relationship in the same month, told me that the most useful thing I ever said to her was: “Your nervous system isn’t making this harder than it is. Your nervous system is just doing the job it learned to do when you were very young and things were actually unsafe.” She wept. Because she’d been calling herself weak for years. She wasn’t weak. She was wired for survival.

On hard days, the most healing thing is often the most counterintuitive: slow down rather than speed up. Breathe out longer than you breathe in (this activates the parasympathetic nervous system). Put your feet flat on the floor and feel the ground beneath you. Splash cold water on your face. Text one person who makes you feel safe: “I’m having a rough one.” Not to fix it. Just to break the isolation.

Because isolation is where hard days become unbearable days. And unbearable doesn’t have to be where this ends.

Both/And: Holding the Complexity of Your Experience

In my work with clients, I find that the most important breakthroughs happen not when someone chooses one truth over another, but when they learn to hold two seemingly contradictory truths at the same time.

You can be grateful for what you have and grieve what you didn’t get. You can love someone and acknowledge the harm they caused. You can be strong and still need help. These aren’t contradictions. They’re the texture of a fully lived life.

The driven women I work with often struggle with this because they’ve been trained to solve problems, not sit with paradox. But healing isn’t a problem to solve. It’s a process to inhabit. And the both/and is always where the deepest growth lives.

The Systemic Lens: Seeing Beyond the Individual

When we locate suffering exclusively in the individual. “What’s wrong with me?”. We miss the larger forces at work. Culture, family systems, economic structures, and intergenerational patterns all shape the terrain on which your personal struggle plays out.

This matters because the driven women I work with almost universally blame themselves for pain that was never theirs alone to carry. The anxiety, the perfectionism, the chronic self-doubt. These aren’t character flaws. They’re adaptive responses to systems that asked too much of you while offering too little safety, attunement, and genuine support.

Healing begins when you stop asking “What’s wrong with me?” and start asking “What happened to me. And what systems made it possible?”

If what you’ve read here resonates, I want you to know that individual therapy and executive coaching are available for driven women ready to do this work. You can also explore my self-paced recovery courses or schedule a complimentary consultation to find the right fit.

Warmly, Annie

References

Peer-Reviewed Research (Vancouver)

1. Porges SW. Polyvagal Theory: Current Status, Clinical Applications, and Future Directions. PMID: 40735382.

About the Author

Annie Wright, LMFT

LMFT #95719  ·  Relational Trauma Specialist  ·  Author, W.W. Norton 2027

Helping driven women finally feel as good as their résumé looks.

As a licensed psychotherapist (LMFT #95719), trauma-informed executive coach, and relational trauma specialist with over 15,000 clinical hours, she guides driven women. Including Silicon Valley leaders, physicians, and entrepreneurs. In repairing the psychological foundations beneath their impressive lives. Annie is the founder and former CEO of Evergreen Counseling, a multimillion-dollar trauma-informed therapy center she built, scaled, and successfully exited. A regular contributor to Psychology Today, her expert commentary has appeared in USA Today, Forbes, Business Insider, NBC News, and The Information. She is currently writing her first book with W.W. Norton.

Work With Annie

Medical Disclaimer