Healing Doesn’t Always Feel Like Healing—Until It Does

There’s a familiar theme that tends to surface for me when old patterns show up again—especially when I react in ways I thought I’d moved past.

The moments when I numb and shut down.
The moments I lose my temper and say things I later regret.
The moments when that familiar voice of self-criticism creeps in with the narrative that I’m not good enough.

In those moments, the same questions come up: “Ugh, I thought I was past this. Am I backsliding? Am I really healing? Is regulation in these moments even possible for me?”

Maybe you know that feeling too.

As a somatic coach and yoga teacher, I talk a lot about nervous system regulation, emotional resilience, and mind-body healing—and these tools have been invaluable to me. But the truth is, I still have plenty of moments where I fall into patterns of reactivity or disconnection. Days when something uncomfortable or unexpected happens, and I catch myself wanting to shut down, distract, or push it away.
Even moments—despite the tools I now have at my disposal—when I question my capacity to heal and thrive instead of just survive.

But a recent experience challenged that doubt.

Recently, I found myself overwhelmed by a situation that felt out of my control. There was uncertainty, a lot of unknowns, and my nervous system was on high alert. In the past, when I felt like this, I would often seek out coping mechanisms to distract myself from the discomfort.

Sometimes that looked like endlessly scrolling through my phone. Other times, it meant pouring a glass of wine (or two, or three) to “relax.” There were times I felt paralyzed by overwhelm and indecision. And other times, I was reactive and short-tempered, taking my frustration out on people who didn’t deserve it.

These were some of my go-to ways of coping with the intensity—ways my body had learned to protect me from what felt like too much. And honestly, that makes sense. When overwhelm floods in, the nervous system looks for the fastest way to feel safe again. My body was just doing what it knew how to do.

I also know now that while those things can bring short-term relief, they often disconnect me from what I really need: to feel, to process, to be with myself in a way that fosters true healing.

During this most recent time of overwhelm, I noticed the same urge rise up—to reach for something that would help me escape the discomfort. But this time, something different happened.

I noticed the urge—and I paused. I recognized the old pattern and, instead of going into autopilot, I realized I had a choice: I could choose the ways of escaping the intensity that I had come to rely on in the past, or I could make a conscious choice to do something different that supported me. Something that helped me regulate rather than disconnect.

So, I let myself feel what was there. I noticed the heaviness in my chest, the restlessness in my body, the lump in my throat. I didn’t push it away. I moved slowly. I breathed. I cried. I gave myself space to just be in it. I asked my husband to listen while I vented and talked things through. I took time for myself. I acknowledged that the situation sucked. I practiced self-compassion (even though that part is still hard for me sometimes).

And while it didn’t make the situation magically disappear, it allowed me to navigate through the feelings of overwhelm so I could look at the situation with more clarity.

And that—that felt like healing.

And honestly, that’s a big part of what this work is about. The nervous system’s job isn’t to keep us in a bubble of calm all the time—it’s to help us adapt and recover. Life is dynamic. Emotions are dynamic. Being human is dynamic. And healing doesn’t mean we never get triggered, upset, disappointed, or dysregulated again. It means we notice it sooner, we have tools to support ourselves, and we move through it without spiraling in the same way we once did. Not by avoiding what’s hard, but by finding ways to stay present with it that feel “safe enough.”

This reminded me of a quote from Dr. Arielle Schwartz in her book, Applied Polyvagal Theory in Yoga: Therapeutic Practices for Emotional Health:

“The goal is not to maintain a relaxed state all the time; rather, the goal is greater capacity to recalibrate our nervous systems in response to stress, allowing us to mobilize to meet challenges and return more easily to states of rest and ease.”

In other words, it’s not about staying calm no matter what—it’s about recovering more easily and responding more intentionally. Regulation means growing your ability to meet life’s challenges without disconnecting from yourself. It’s about finding enough internal safety to be present with what’s hard, rather than needing to escape it (as long as it’s safe enough to do so).

This moment wasn’t dramatic or groundbreaking from the outside. But internally, it was a huge sign of progress. Not because it looked perfect. Not because I handled it all "the right way." But because I stayed with myself instead of abandoning myself.

That’s what regulation looks like in real life.

Remember, regulation doesn’t mean we don’t get upset, disappointed, or dysregulated. It means we notice it sooner. We recognize the signs. We have practices that help us come back to ourselves more quickly and more gently. It’s not about perfection—it’s about progress.

And over time, that progress adds up. You build trust with yourself. You feel safer in your body. You realize you can handle more than you once thought you could—without going into survival mode.

So, if you’re in a place where you’re working on showing up differently, but it still feels messy or inconsistent... that doesn’t mean it’s not working.
This is what growth looks like.
It’s not always clean or clear. But it is happening.
One regulated moment at a time.

That was what I had experienced. Not a perfect, peaceful response. Not a total absence of stress. But a moment of choosing presence over avoidance. A moment of recognizing I had options. A moment of practicing regulation—not because everything was fine, but because I was willing to stay with myself through the discomfort.

Emotionally, it’s also a reminder that healing isn’t a straight line. It’s a cycle. It’s practice. It’s capacity-building. It’s about learning to meet the parts of us that hurt or react or want to run—and staying in connection with those parts instead of shutting them out.

If you're in a season where you’re questioning whether you’re “doing enough” or “healing fast enough,” I hope this reminds you that growth doesn’t usually happen in big, dramatic leaps. More often, it’s built through small, consistent shifts—like noticing an old pattern and choosing a slightly different response. Sometimes, it looks like reaching out, staying present, and softening into support.

Those quiet, conscious choices matter more than we give them credit for.
They’re not always visible from the outside, but inside—they change everything.

-Franchesca

PS – If this resonated with you and you’re curious about how somatic coaching or mind-body practices could support you on your own healing path, I’d love to connect. I offer free 30-minute consultations where we can talk more about what you’re navigating and whether working together might be a good fit. Click here to book your consultation.

Thumbnail Photo cred: Kelly Sikkema