When Crisis Hits

The worst has happened. Or at least, it feels that way. The phone call you never wanted to receive comes through. The diagnosis is spoken aloud in a quiet room. The accident, the loss, the betrayal, the sudden change you did not choose—whatever form it takes, crisis has a way of shattering the illusion that life is predictable and controllable. In a single moment, the future that once seemed relatively clear becomes foggy and uncertain. You may find yourself wondering how you will ever recover, how you will move forward, or even how you will get through the next hour.

I am writing this from a hospital room, sitting beside my husband’s bed after a major health crisis. Machines hum softly in the background. Nurses move in and out with gentle efficiency. My husband rests, and I watch his chest rise and fall, grateful for every breath. I have years of training in mental health. I understand trauma responses. I teach coping strategies. And yet, when the crisis hit, it still knocked the air out of my lungs. Knowledge does not make you immune to pain. Training does not prevent shock. Even when you “know better,” your body and heart can still react with raw fear and overwhelming emotion.

And that is okay.

When crisis strikes, it is hard. It is disorienting. It is overwhelming. You are going to experience a range of emotions—sometimes all at once. You may think thoughts that are unhelpful, catastrophic, or harsh. You may not feel okay, even if you are functioning on the surface. Deep down, something feels shaken.

Some people cry immediately. Some feel anger. Some feel paralyzed. Others become intensely focused and practical. You might surprise yourself with how calm you appear. You might go into “fix it” mode—making calls, organizing logistics, asking questions, advocating fiercely. You may not cry at all. You may feel numb, as though you are watching your life from outside your body.

If that is you, you are not broken. You are coping.

There are individuals who, in the midst of crisis, shift into hyper-focus. They make lists. They gather information. They handle paperwork. They care for others. They push down emotion so effectively that it seems as though it is not there. Only later—sometimes weeks or months later—when things settle, does it all hit at once. If this is your pattern, it is not wrong. It is a survival strategy. During a crisis, the primary task is often simple: get through it. Survive. Stabilize. Do what needs to be done.

If all you are able to do right now is hold on, then you are doing your job.

The Emotional Aftermath

Sometimes, the emotional aftermath of a crisis is more destabilizing than the event itself. When the adrenaline fades and the immediate danger has passed, the weight of what happened begins to settle in. You may replay moments in your mind. You may wonder what you could have done differently. You may feel guilt over words spoken in stress or decisions made under pressure. You may assign blame—sometimes to others, sometimes to yourself.

This is often when shame creeps in.

You may think, “I should have seen this coming.”
“I should have acted faster.”
“I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”
“If only I had…”

We try to make sense of chaos by constructing a narrative. The mind wants order. It wants cause and effect. It wants control. Blame—whether directed outward or inward—can give a temporary illusion of understanding. But often, it deepens the wound.

Ironically, the time when you most need self-compassion is often the time you are least likely to give it to yourself.

Pain and trauma are not always avoidable. Life includes suffering. However, there are ways to minimize the long-term impact of crisis on your mental health. While you may not be able to control the event itself, you can take small, meaningful steps to care for your mind and body during and after the storm.

Below are five foundational practices to anchor yourself when crisis hits.

1) Take Care of Your Basic Needs

This sounds simple, almost obvious. Yet in the middle of a crisis, it can feel nearly impossible.

When you are in the middle of a crisis—whatever form it takes—your attention narrows to whatever feels most urgent. You may be fielding constant phone calls, responding to emails, meeting with professionals, rearranging schedules, caring for others, or making high-stakes decisions. In that state, basic needs can start to feel insignificant. Eating a proper meal or getting enough sleep may seem like luxuries you simply cannot afford. Hours can pass before you realize you have not eaten. You may rely on caffeine, quick snacks, or sheer adrenaline to keep going. You might push yourself to stay awake late into the night, replaying events or planning next steps, even as your body quietly signals that it is exhausted.

But ignoring your basic needs compounds the crisis.

When you are sleep deprived, dehydrated, or undernourished, your ability to think clearly, regulate emotion, and make decisions is compromised. Your stress response intensifies. Small problems feel larger. Your patience shortens. Your resilience decreases.

You do not need perfection in this season. You do not need organic meals and a flawless routine. You need adequacy.

If all you can manage is a nap in a waiting room chair, take it.
If all you can eat is a sandwich from a vending machine, eat it.
If you can pause long enough to drink a full glass of water, do that.

It may feel insignificant, but these small acts matter. They signal to your nervous system that survival includes caring for your own body.

Even something as basic as taking 30 seconds to breathe intentionally can reduce the physical intensity of stress. Slow, deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system—the part responsible for calming the body. Try inhaling slowly for four counts, holding for four, and exhaling for six. Repeat a few times. It will not erase the crisis, but it may reduce the tightness in your chest enough to think clearly.

In moments of chaos, your job is not to thrive. It is to sustain yourself.

2) Give Yourself Permission to Have Feelings—Or No Feelings

Whatever your emotional state during a crisis, you are allowed to experience it.

If you feel like curling into a ball and crying, that is okay. Tears are a natural release. They are not weakness. They are not failure. They are the body’s way of processing overwhelming emotion.

If you feel numb, that is okay too.

Numbness can be frightening. People often worry, “Why don’t I feel anything? What’s wrong with me?” But emotional shutdown is a well-documented trauma response. When something is too overwhelming to process in real time, your brain may temporarily dampen emotional intensity to allow you to function.

Psychologically, many crisis reactions can be understood through the lens of fight, flight, or freeze responses (Lerner, 2026). These instinctive patterns are wired into the nervous system for survival. Emotional reactions during crisis are not random—they are adaptive.

Shutting down emotions may have helped you focus and get things done. Heightened emotion may have driven you to seek help, advocate strongly, or mobilize support. Anger may have given you energy. Fear may have sharpened your attention. Tears may have drawn comfort from others.

These reactions only become problematic when we remain stuck in them long after the threat has passed.

If you are numb during the crisis, that may be your mind’s way of helping you survive. Just be mindful that once safety returns, you will need space to feel whatever was postponed. Healing requires integration, and integration requires emotion.

If you are intensely emotional, try not to judge yourself. Instead of saying, “I shouldn’t feel this way,” try, “This is what I am feeling right now.” Acknowledgment reduces internal conflict. Fighting your emotions often intensifies them.

After the crisis settles, it is important to check in with yourself. Are emotions lingering in a way that interferes with daily life? Are you avoiding reminders at all costs? Are you stuck in fear or anger? If so, additional support may be helpful. But in the immediate moment, allow your nervous system to do what it was designed to do: help you survive.

3) Show Compassion to Yourself and Others

Crisis creates chaos. Chaos creates confusion. Confusion often leads to blame.

It is natural to want to identify a cause. It is natural to feel angry. You may blame yourself for missing signs. You may blame medical professionals. You may blame a spouse, a driver, a system, or even God. Anger can feel clarifying. It can provide direction in a moment of helplessness.

But during the peak of crisis, blame rarely improves the situation.

Running mental replays of what you “should have done” will not change the past. It will only intensify your suffering. Shame tells you that you are fundamentally flawed. Guilt tells you that you did something wrong. While guilt can sometimes guide growth, shame is corrosive. It erodes your sense of worth and drains your energy—energy you desperately need.

If you notice yourself spiraling into self-criticism, pause. Gently remind yourself: “I made the best decision I could with the information I had at the time.”

Later, when you are stable and supported, you may reflect and learn. Growth is valuable. But growth thrives in compassion, not condemnation.

Similarly, you may feel intense anger toward someone else. Perhaps mistakes were made. Perhaps someone truly did act negligently. Your anger may be valid. But in the acute phase of crisis, your emotional and cognitive resources are limited. Addressing grievances requires clarity and capacity. If possible, acknowledge the anger without acting on it immediately.

You might say internally, “I am angry. I will come back to this when I have more strength.”

Boundaries, conversations, accountability—these are important. But timing matters. During the height of crisis, focus on stabilization. When things calm, you can revisit unresolved issues with greater wisdom.

Compassion does not mean pretending nothing happened. It means recognizing that human beings are imperfect, especially under pressure. It means understanding that crisis distorts perception. It means offering yourself and others grace in a season where everyone is likely stretched thin.

4) Learn the “Normal” Symptoms of Trauma

After a crisis, you may begin to experience symptoms that feel alarming. You might have vivid dreams. You may startle easily. You may feel on edge, as though danger is just around the corner. Concentration may be difficult. You may avoid places or conversations that remind you of what happened.

It is crucial to understand that many of these reactions are normal in the aftermath of trauma.

PTSD is diagnosed when trauma-related symptoms persist and significantly impair functioning beyond a specific timeframe (American Psychiatric Association, 2013). In the early weeks following a traumatic event, however, such symptoms are often considered acute stress responses—not necessarily a disorder. Even if symptoms show up a few months or even years later, they are normal unless the symptoms do not start improving within a month of starting and if they significantly impact your day to day life.

Common post-traumatic symptoms can include:

• Hypervigilance (feeling constantly on guard)
• Nightmares or intrusive memories
• Irritability or aggression
• Strong emotional reactions to reminders
• Distressing thoughts
• Guilt or shame
• Being easily startled
• Avoidance of certain places or conversations
• Difficulty sleeping
• Difficulty concentrating
• Flashbacks

If you experience these in the aftermath of crisis, it does not mean you are “going crazy.” It means your nervous system is attempting to process a threat that felt overwhelming. Your brain is scanning for danger in an effort to prevent it from happening again.

For many people, these symptoms gradually decrease over weeks or months as the mind integrates the experience. Supportive relationships, adequate rest, and healthy coping strategies facilitate recovery.

However, if symptoms remain intense, worsen, or persist in a way that significantly disrupts your life, seeking professional help is wise. There is no shame in therapy. In fact, early intervention can prevent long-term complications. Even if your symptoms fall within the “normal” range, you are allowed to seek support simply because you are hurting.

Healing is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of courage.

5) Cling to God

Crisis often intensifies spiritual questions. Faith can become either a deep well of comfort or a battleground of doubt. You may feel closer to God than ever before. Or you may feel angry, betrayed, confused.

Both are understandable.

In seasons of suffering, it is common to wrestle with questions:
“Why did this happen?”
“Where was God?”
“Why wasn’t this prevented?”

Some people fear that expressing doubt or anger toward God is sinful. But Scripture presents a more nuanced picture. In the book of Job, Job endured immense suffering—loss of family, health, and security. He lamented bitterly. He questioned. He cried out in anguish. Yet in Job 42:7–8, God rebuked Job’s criticizing friends and affirmed that Job had spoken truthfully about Him.

Job’s honesty was not condemned. It was received.

This suggests that bringing your full emotional reality before God—including anger and doubt—is not faithlessness. It is relationship. God is not threatened by your questions. He invites them.

Prayer can be a powerful stabilizing force during crisis. Research has suggested that spiritual practices, including prayer, are associated with reduced stress and increased emotional regulation (Whitley, 2019). When you pray, you are engaging in focused reflection, surrender, and connection. You are reminding your body that you are not alone.

Prayer also provides action when action feels impossible. When there is nothing tangible you can fix, you can still pray. You can speak hope into despair. You can ask for strength when yours feels depleted.

Scripture offers promises that many cling to in crisis. Isaiah 41:10 says, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Psalm 23:4 echoes this assurance: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me…”

Notice the wording. It does not say you will avoid the valley. It says you will not walk through it alone.

God does not always prevent suffering. Even Jesus, who had never sinned, was not saved from suffering. Faith does not promise immunity from hardship. It promises presence within it.

Clinging to God in crisis does not require polished prayers or unwavering certainty. It may look like a whispered “Help.” It may look like tears. It may look like sitting in silence. It may look like anger expressed honestly.

Faith can anchor you when circumstances feel untethered. It can provide hope beyond immediate outcomes. It can remind you that your story is larger than this moment of pain.

Moving Forward

When crisis hits, your primary goal is survival and stabilization. You are not required to be strong in the inspirational sense. You are required only to endure, one moment at a time.

Take care of your body in small ways.
Allow your emotions without judgment.
Choose compassion over blame.
Understand that trauma symptoms are often normal and temporary.
And if you believe, cling to God—even through doubt.

Recovery is rarely linear. Some days you will feel steady. Other days, something small will trigger tears. That does not mean you are failing. It means you are human.

Crisis has a way of revealing both fragility and resilience. It strips away illusions of control, but it can also uncover depths of strength you did not know you possessed. You may not feel strong right now. Sitting in a hospital room, watching machines breathe alongside the person you love, does not feel heroic. It feels terrifying. It feels exhausting.

But holding on is an act of courage.

If you are in the middle of your own crisis, I want you to know this: you are not weak for struggling. You are not faithless for questioning. You are not broken for feeling numb. You are not selfish for needing rest.

You are responding to something hard.

And even here—especially here—there is hope. Not necessarily the hope that everything will unfold exactly as you wish, but the hope that you can endure. That healing is possible. That growth can emerge from pain. That God’s presence remains, even when circumstances feel unbearable.

When crisis hits, breathe. Eat something. Cry if you need to. Pray if you can. Ask for help. Release blame. Learn about trauma. Be patient with your mind. Be gentle with your heart. Seek help if you want it. Counselling may look differently during the aftermath of a crisis, but it can help you navigate it.

And hold on.

References

American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed.). https://doi.org/10.1176/appi.books.9780890425596 

Lerner, M., (2026) How do people respond during a crisis? National Center for emotional Wellness https://www.nationalcenterforemotionalwellness.org/post/how-do-people-respond-during-a-crisis

Whitley, R. (2019) Prayer and Mental Health. Psychology Today. https://www.psychologytoday.com/ca/blog/talking-about-men/201912/prayer-and-mental-health