I stood in the laundry room holding a damp shirt and crying like something catastrophic had happened. It was my husband’s favorite shirt. I had ruined it in the wash. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t upset. He has never once made me feel small over a mistake like that. He is kind. He is forgiving. And yet there I was apologizing repeatedly, sobbing, hitting myself lightly on the head in frustration, and calling myself careless and stupid in ways I would never allow anyone else to speak to me. On the surface, it was about a shirt; however, if you’ve been doing healing work for long enough, you know that reactions like that are rarely about the thing in front of you. Underneath that moment was fear about a loved one’s health. A quiet helplessness I hadn’t expressed. Weeks of being “the composed one.” The pressure of holding everything together while telling myself I was fine. The shirt was just the spark. The fire had been building. And that’s the part no one talks about enough. This week, I want to remind you of something that might feel obvious but is very hard to accept in real time: Healing is not linear.
You can work hard on yourself. You can journal, meditate, communicate better, set boundaries, eat better, show up differently and still have moments where you regress. Not because you’ve failed. Not because your healing didn’t work, but it was because you are human and your nervous system has its limits. There will be days when you feel regulated, reflective, grounded, but there will also be days when an ordinary mishap sends you spiraling. Regardless, there are differences now that didn’t exist before you started on your healing journey. The difference is that you notice faster now. When you do, you recover quicker, reflect more, and repair well. That is growth.
For years, I used to say, almost proudly, “I don’t handle change well.” It became part of my identity. But healing has a way of challenging the stories we’ve repeated about ourselves. So, I eventually realized something important: It wasn’t change I couldn’t handle; it was stress, which is a result of increased demands on already limited sources. When uncertainty rises, when responsibility piles up, when emotions go unprocessed, my internal demands increase. If my resources, such as sleep, support, rest, nourishment, and connection, don’t rise with it, I tip over. Anyone would.
Stress, at its core, is simple:
Demands > Resources.
Now that I know that, instead of shaming myself when I regress, I’ve started asking different questions:
How can I lower the demands?
How can I increase my resources?
The answers stem from awareness followed by adjustment.
For instance, meditation is one of my core resources. On mornings when I have early client calls, I used to skip it and tell myself I would do it later. I rarely did. Then I’d wonder why I felt more reactive. Since that laundry incident, I’ve committed to my practice daily.
Now I don’t care about it being perfect. Instead, I pursue consistency. As a result, if I can’t do my usual practice, I set a five-minute timer and do breathwork. That’s it. I remind myself that it’s not about intensity but more about staying connected to myself.
Another resource is time with my parents and Coco. Being with them regulates me in a way productivity never will. For a while, I treated those visits as optional. Something I’d do if the week wasn’t too busy, but my weeks are always busy. Consequently, I’ve made it non-negotiable where I visit my parents’ place one day a week for six or seven hours. During that time, we enjoy lunch together, converse, and reconnect.
Ideally, I would stay overnight, but that’s not possible every week; therefore, I am choosing the next best option. Healing often lives in middle grounds where it’s not all-or-nothing; it’s adaptive.
Some days, my adjustment is even more subtle. If I haven’t slept well, I don’t push myself through an intense workout to prove discipline. On the contrary, I move in a way that matches my capacity.
If I’m emotionally depleted, I retreat without labeling myself a bad friend, spouse, or daughter, because giving from an almost empty tank does not make me noble. It makes me resentful. That’s something I’ve learned the hard way.
The spirals, like the laundry room moment, are not proof that I’m broken. They are signals that something needs attention; that I’ve been overriding myself; that I need to pause before I fracture. Previously, I ignored those signals. I pushed through, told myself to be stronger, and minimized what I was feeling. Now, I am trying to listen sooner.
Maybe I need firmer boundaries.
Maybe I need to communicate instead of internalizing.
Maybe I need sleep.
Maybe I need to slow down.
Maybe I need yoga, which I realized recently, I had skipped for weeks.
I love strength training, but yoga does something different for me. It loosens me up physically and realigns me internally. Skipping what nourishes me makes everything else heavier. The day I returned to yoga, I felt like a new person. I felt stronger and more confident emotionally.
Ultimately, subtractions matter where you reduce what overwhelms you. Additions also matter where you return to what steadies you.
After the laundry incident, I spent a day asking myself what was wrong with me. Then, I was able to reassess and ask:
What do I need right now?
What can I add?
What can I remove?
What needs recalibration?
This is how we become leaders of our own lives. The fact of the matter is that you can regress at any stage of your journey. For example, you might be working on emotional eating and have a binge. Or you might be working on communication and snap at someone you love. Or you might be working on people-pleasing and overcommitting again. The scenarios are endless. When that happens, your mind might lie to you that you’re back to square one, but please pause. Take some time to separate fact from fiction. Look at the evidence by answering the following questions:
Do you recover faster?
Do you reflect more and deny less?
Do you apologize when needed?
Do you adjust your approach?
If you answered yes to any of the above questions, then you are not back to square one; you are progressing. We can do our best and still stumble. We can be committed and still get overwhelmed. We can be self-aware and still react. Nevertheless, what matters is what happens next. And that next step involves self-compassion and repair.
You do not get to abandon all the work you’ve done because of one hard moment. Stay in the game. Every person doing real inner work has moments they are not proud of. The difference is that now, you don’t live there. Healing is not about never going back to old patterns. It’s about not building a home there anymore. And if you are reading this and wondering whether you have it in you to keep going, you do. The fact that you care this much is proof.
As always, I am here to support you all the way. I hope you keep in touch with your stories, thoughts, and feedback. If you wish to learn more, please stop by www.imperfectbodies.com. Lastly, if you enjoyed this information, then please share it with others.
My 5-minute guide for when you’re feeling overwhelmed, stuck, or lost. Reset your energy and reconnect with yourself. Bonus audio guide included. Available here: Energy Guide
All the best,
Chaitni