Calming the Storm Within Series Part 1: Before the Storm

There are moments when I don't realize I'm overwhelmed until I stop and look back at the days leading up to it.

This week has been one of those weeks.

The funny thing is... I didn't even realize I was there.

Then someone shared a graphic that listed the signs a woman is at her breaking point while pretending everything is okay.

As I read through it, I found myself quietly thinking,

"That's me... and that's me too."

I commented on the post, and a friend asked if I'd like to share more.

That simple question stopped me in my tracks.

Because once I started thinking about it, it all came pouring out.

It didn't start with frustration.

It didn't even start with feeling angry.

It started with whispers.

I was exhausted.

The kind of tired where all I wanted to do was crawl into bed. It reminded me of the fatigue I've been experiencing with perimenopause, and the hormone shifts that seem to come out of nowhere.

Then my back started aching, even though I hadn't done anything out of the ordinary.

Instead of slowing down, I pushed through.

I spent the evening mowing and weed-eating the yard, determined to get it finished even though it was after 9:00 at night. I told myself I just needed to get one more thing done. Can you relate?

The next day, my neck hurt so badly, I kept ignoring but eventually all I could think about was soaking in a hot bath. I even shared a post about taking time for self-care because I knew I needed it.

Looking back now, I realize that bath wasn't just about relaxing.

It was another whisper.

Then came the migraines.

The cuss words started slipping out, something that almost never happens. If you know me, you know that's one of my biggest warning signs that I'm reaching my limit.

After finishing my 30-day walking challenge, I planned to take one day off to rest.

One day quietly turned into five.

The walks that usually help clear my mind disappeared.

I found myself craving complete silence. Every little sound felt like too much. When I get to that point, you'll usually find me hiding in my closet for a few minutes because it's one of the only places quiet enough for my nervous system to settle.

And somewhere in the middle of all of this, I realized something.

I wasn't really angry.

I was raging.

Not at a person.

Not at one specific situation.

I was raging against barriers.

Against waiting.

Against things taking longer than I hoped.

Against feeling like there isn't enough time.

Against watching one obstacle after another seem to stand in the way.

My mind kept jumping ahead, trying to solve tomorrow's problems before today was even over.

That's exhausting.

What I'm Learning

Before seeing that graphic, I would've told you I was just tired.

Maybe a little stressed.

But taking the time to really think about it helped me see something I had been missing.

My body had been trying to get my attention for days.

I just hadn't been listening.

The fatigue.

The aching back.

The tight neck.

The migraines.

The skipped walks.

The need for complete silence.

None of those were random inconveniences.

They were reminders that I had drifted away from the very things that help keep me grounded.

And then I realized something else.

I've spent so much time trying to move the barriers in front of me that I forgot to return to the habits that help me face them.

For me, those habits are simple.

Walking.

Quiet.

Rest.

Journaling.

Time with God.

Those things don't magically remove the barriers.

The paperwork is still there.

The waiting is still there.

The unanswered questions are still there.

But they calm the storm inside me, even when the storm around me hasn't changed.

I'm learning that finding calm isn't about waiting until life settles down.

It's about returning to the rhythms that steady my heart, even when life feels anything but steady.

Today, that's exactly what I'm choosing.

One walk.

One journal page.

One prayer.

One quiet moment at a time.

Because maybe the goal isn't to remove every storm.

Maybe it's to become anchored enough that the storm doesn't carry me away.

Reflection

Have you ever looked back and realized your body was trying to tell you something long before your mind caught up?

What are the first signs that tell you it's time to slow down and return to what grounds you?