From Overwhelm to Empowerment - Healing Your Body, Mind, and Heart in Crisis
Shona Keachie
Writer | Parent | Consultant | Helping individuals and organisations rediscover authenticity and build a foundation for collective thriving
Every year around my birthday, I take a moment to reflect—on the year that’s passed, the lessons learned, and what I want to create moving forward. And every year, I’m struck by how life throws unexpected twists our way, shifting our course in an instant.
This year is no exception. Here in the Southern Hemisphere, the school year aligns with the calendar year, and once the kids return after summer, life settles into its familiar rhythm of school, commutes, work, and routine. Just as that rhythm was beginning to take hold, I got word that the person I share my life most closely with had a heart attack.
As heart attacks go, thankfully, this wasn’t a catastrophic event—it was caught early, and a couple of stents were put in quite quickly, with another procedure to follow in a few weeks. Their recovery is looking promising, which is a relief.
But what I’m acutely aware of is just how stressed, overwhelmed, and triggered I’ve been in relation to it all. One great thing about years of inner work is that I can now recognise when I’m triggered—when my reaction is shaped more by old beliefs than by the present reality. Trying to sift through “what’s a healthy, natural reaction” versus “what’s a conditioned response based on old patterns” is key to healing.
For example, in the aftermath, I became very aware of the conversations happening around me—particularly around medications. It was clear that everyone was speaking from a place of love and concern, wanting the best outcome. But underneath, I felt a tension about treatment choices, particularly the dynamic between pharmaceuticals versus natural support.
What I realised was that this touched on something deeper for me—an old sensitivity around the perception that holistic approaches are somehow ‘less than’ conventional medicine. It wasn’t about any individual but about the broader cultural conditioning that often frames medical choices in an either/or way rather than an integrated approach. That framing—whether spoken outright or implied—was triggering, not because of anyone’s intent, but because it echoed past experiences where my perspective was dismissed or misunderstood.
That was just one layer. I was already in a heightened state, so the triggers kept coming. Even something as simple as fishermen casting their lines far back from the shoreline, forcing walkers to detour, felt like an unnecessary imposition. It was a sign of how tightly wound I was.
Finding myself navigating a series of unexpected changes left me feeling more overwhelmed than I anticipated. What began as a rare opportunity for solitude quickly turned into a cascade of adjustments as plans shifted. In the midst of it all, the assumption that my time and energy were available without question really bothered me. I’ve come to realise that boundaries aren’t just about saying “no”; they’re about ensuring my time and energy are respected.
Amid the emotional complexity of the situation, it also highlighted the practical aspects of relationships—especially when it comes to decisions involving both health and family matters. These experiences have prompted us to reflect on how we can ensure we’re truly recognised as partners.
And unsurprisingly, I found myself diving deep into the need to control everything I could. My mind latched onto the details—the anatomy of the heart, the medications, the best ways to offer support. It was a coping mechanism, but it also led to physical manifestations of stress—tightness in my back and neck, areas linked to the balance between giving and receiving.
What I’ve realised is that while I’ve been hyper-aware of my triggers, I haven’t actually started processing my emotions. My mind has been in overdrive—understanding, analysing, problem-solving—but my emotions are still sitting beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged.
When I look at the Feelings Wheel (originally created by Dr Gloria Wilcox), I can see how much I’ve been holding. Under Surprise, I’ve felt shock, confusion, dismay, and disillusionment. Under Happiness, I’ve felt gratitude, relief, curiosity, love, hope, trust, and optimism. But I’ve also felt every shade of Fear—scared, anxious, insecure, helpless, frightened, overwhelmed, worried, inadequate, and even excluded. Anger surfaced when I was triggered—frustration, judgment, withdrawal, and moments of feeling disrespected. And underlying it all is stress.
The person in my life with whom I share a healthy balance of giving and receiving is temporarily out of action, and that leaves a lot to process and carry. But I’m also deeply grateful that they are still here—and that I have others to support me too. What I also recognise is that some of my emotions are the result of a healthy reaction to a traumatic situations, other feelings arose because I was seeing certain situations through the lens of subconscious beliefs – like “I’m not heard” or “I’m not seen” or “I’m not enough” which signals there is still some inner work to do for me there.
I recently listened to The Emotional Life of Your Brain with Dr. Richard J. Davidson and Tami Simon, which explores the neuroscience behind emotional resilience. I also took the HMI Emotional Styles Quiz, and the results were an interesting reflection of where I’m at right now.
One of my strongest areas is Sensitivity to Context—I naturally adjust to different social situations, picking up on the unspoken rules and expectations of each interaction. But the area that stood out as a growth opportunity was Self-Awareness. While I have a solid foundation, the results suggested that I sometimes act or react without fully understanding why. And that resonates.
Right now, I can recognise that I’m on high alert, but I haven’t yet sat with the deeper emotions underneath. I’ve been so focused on holding things together—on making sense of everything—that I haven’t created space to feel.
And that’s what I want to lean into. Not just understanding my responses intellectually but allowing myself to process what this experience has actually felt like. Because resilience isn’t just about bouncing back—it’s about integrating what we’ve been through in a way that truly honours our emotional experience.
This whole experience has reinforced what I’ve long believed: true healing isn’t about choosing between pharmaceuticals and natural medicine—it’s about integrating both. While conventional medicine excels in emergencies, long-term well-being depends on reducing stress, supporting the body’s natural healing processes, and addressing root causes rather than just symptoms. Every medication places a burden on the body, so complementary support is essential. But most importantly, how we manage stress directly impacts our health. Emotional processing and resilience aren’t just abstract concepts; they’re central to healing.
So, as I move forward, my focus isn’t just on supporting my loved one’s recovery—it’s also on allowing myself to soften into my own experience. To give myself the same care and compassion I so readily extend to others. To trust that I don’t have to hold it all. Because true resilience isn’t about carrying the weight alone—it’s about knowing when to let go.
As you reflect on your own life, I encourage you to take a moment to pause and consider:
What’s holding you together in times of crisis, and what’s unraveling beneath the surface?
Are there old beliefs or patterns that you’re carrying, influencing how you respond to life’s unexpected twists? Perhaps it’s time to acknowledge not just the stress, but the emotions beneath it—the fear, the frustration, the love, and the hope.
Ask yourself: How can you start to soften into your own experience, just as you would for someone you love? Where do you need to give yourself the same compassion you extend to others? And what will it take to trust that letting go, not carrying it all alone, is a powerful act of resilience?
Take a few minutes, jot down what comes to mind, and allow yourself to feel whatever surfaces. This process of reflection is where true healing begins.
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