Nervous System Reboot
the why, the what, the how
It sneaks up on me. I wake in the middle of the night, heart racing and feeling sick with anxiety, on the verge of a panic attack. I feel both hot and cold. I’m shallow breathing. My vision gets a bit fuzzy. Tinnitus is LOUD. Scalp tingling. I’m clenching my teeth. My shoulders are up by my ears. My head is in a vice. Sciatic pain down my leg and an actual pain in the ass.
I can be stuck in this space for days at a time. I get used to this feeling until something tips me over the edge.
This is no way to live. We’re designed to be in an activated sympathetic state for mere moments as we chase off the tiger that’s on our back - not the hours, days, months that many of us experience.
The Why - What breaks the nervous system down
The metaphorical tiger I’ve come to feel on my back is the cumulative load of almost 12 months of treatment, ongoing recovery and healing, hypervigilance, and the “being okay for everyone else.” My body has learned to brace — you know that position we never hope to hear about over the tannoy from the air stewards.
I had no idea that recovery and healing doesn’t automatically mean settling. It’s possible and normal to be in remission, with no evidence of disease, and still be running on emergency power. We’ve learned this way of being because we needed it to get us through the toughest episode in our lives.
There is a huge gap between cancer being medically over and there being a felt-sense over. I wonder truthfully if it’s ever over. Maybe it’s just time. Maybe it’s because I feel so different now. Maybe there will always be physical and emotional scars to remind me of what I’ve been through.
The What - What a nervous system reboot actually is (and isn’t)
Okay, so here’s what it’s not - it’s not a wellness trend or a spa day. It’s not a scented candle and a bubble bath. It’s not a one-off massage. It’s not a single cup of chamomile tea. It’s not a one-off anything.
Here’s what it is likely to look like - it’s the slow, unglamorous work of teaching your body that the threat has passed. The difference between thinking you’re safe and your nervous system believing you’re safe. It’s learning to notice when we’re braced, purposefully exhaling, and pausing. And then being consciously aware of our next action.
For me, the moment comes when I can’t feel my toes for the pins and needles, or there’s a shooting pain in my neck. This is the moment that brings me right into the present. It’s my body screaming at me. The red lights flashing, the siren going. It’s time to breathe, to pause, to recalibrate - to do something to bring me back to a place of calm.
The How - What the reboot looks and feels like
It’s not a list of tips (although I will share what works for me) - it’s the actual texture of it. The embodiment of it. Sensory anchors. Breath. Rest without guilt. Noticing what the body does when it finally exhales. The non-linearity of the process. Trusting your body once more to be your guide.
This rebooting requires us to both pause and notice, and to put in the effort - knowing the practices that resonate with us. This is vital work. We cannot run on empty. We must not run on empty.
These are the things that work for me. They’re absolutely not prescriptions, just an honest account of what brings me back into my body when I’ve lost the thread/plot.
5-4-3-2-1 - pause, notice 5 things you can see, 4 things you can hear, 3 things you can touch, 2 things you can smell, 1 thing you can taste.
Grounding - standing barefoot on grass or sand and breathing right down to my toes.
Belly breathing - slow, rhythmic breathing right into my belly.
Cold water - splashing cold water on my face, switching the shower to cold, or cold dipping. I’ve just signed up to support Dip a Day in May for my local Maggie’s centre.
Humming - turn on your favourite tunes and hum along. It’s all about the vagus nerve.
Rhythmic movement - swaying arms, rag doll, bouncing, tapping. Tai Chi. Getting the lymphatic system moving.
Human connection - this is the one that trips me up, especially as I live alone most of the time. Arrange a coffee date, walk the dog, hug someone - or their dog.
Nature, nature, nature - get out and hug a tree.
Chiropractor / EMDR / yoga / embodiment practices - more on this in another post.
The After - The beginning of ease
This is not a triumphant, once-and-done resolution. It’s a work in progress. A remembering. A teaching. A practice. It’s reminding the nervous system that it can begin to trust again.
I love leaning into what I’m able to feel when I’m not bracing.
The after is a coming home to a body that’s been at war.
Sitting with the beginning of ease - noticing that I spent almost an hour in nature on a photo shoot without any pain at all. Nature held me. Doing something fun brought me back to myself. Splashing in the freezing cold sea in the name of art made me laugh out loud. Hugging a tree in the late afternoon sun settled me. Watching kids having surf lessons, dogs chasing tennis balls, lads racing each other into the cold water. Dancing in the late sunshine in my fancy brightly coloured dress. I was completely oblivious to the pain and stress I’d been in earlier that day.
Reconnecting with my body is the medicine that heals me.
Love
Rebecca x
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