Sometimes the healing can’t begin until the crisis ends
Two years ago, I finally broke down.
I was coaching a client recently about caregiving—the physical toll of constant vigilance, the mental exhaustion of never being off duty. As she described the moment she realized she was disappearing into the caregiving role, and then the moment she decided to reclaim herself, I was pulled into my own story.
I hadn’t thought of myself as a “caregiver”—just a mom and wife doing what needed to be done. But looking back, the caregiving had been intense and relentless. Two of my children faced significant mental health and neurological challenges that required constant advocacy, intervention, and support. I remember days when I thought we couldn’t survive another 24 hours. Then that day would pass, and another would come, and somehow we’d make it through. Eventually, we reached high school graduation.
During this same period, my husband was pursuing his master’s and then PhD while working full time. Sometimes he lived away for school. We had wonderful family and friends supporting us, but his coming and going, the pressure of his studies, and his own struggles with our parenting challenges added another complex layer to an already overwhelming situation.
But two years ago, something shifted. Our oldest was thriving in high school. Our younger two were making steady educational progress. The daily dramas that had consumed our lives became less frequent. The despair of wondering how we’d survive another day was becoming a memory.
And little by little, I began to break down.
When the Car Lifts
A friend once described the experience after surviving a major trauma: it’s like being pinned under a car. While you’re trapped, you focus entirely on survival. But when that car is finally lifted, you suddenly see all the bruises, breaks, and bleeding. Only then can you begin the work of healing those injuries.
I remembered this pattern from college—holding everything together through finals, then inevitably getting sick immediately afterward. This cycle of intense focus followed by collapse had repeated throughout my adult years. But this time felt different. Perhaps there simply hadn’t been time, space, or energy for my own breakdown until my family was mostly stabilized.
The signs crept in slowly. Perimenopause symptoms appeared, and while I sought answers, I couldn’t find real solutions. Then the full breakdown arrived. Everything felt wrong. I felt wrong. Anxiety, anger, depression, and fatigue overwhelmed me. I couldn’t think clearly, experienced chest pain, and felt completely overwhelmed by the simplest tasks.
Eventually, a good friend recommended a book that described exactly what I was experiencing and outlined available options. Still, it took four months to get a doctor’s appointment, another two weeks to start medication, and a full month after that before the treatment began working.
The Epiphany
The breakthrough came during that coaching session with my client. That’s when I realized that after eighteen years of trauma-level parenting, the car had finally lifted, and my injuries could finally be tended to.
As difficult as my perimenopause experience has been, it took that complete breakdown to force me to stop, reset, and begin healing. Without it, I might still be pushing beyond what my brain and body could handle.
The Lesson Isn’t What You Think
To be clear, the lesson here isn’t that I should have noticed sooner or done something different during those eighteen years. When you’re in survival mode, survival is the only priority.
The value lies in bringing this experience into the light—to illuminate a path for others on similar journeys. There were times I didn’t believe I would make it to where I am now. And there were times I thought the breakdown itself might be the end of my story.
But sometimes the breakdown is actually the breakthrough. Sometimes your body and mind force a reset because they’re wiser than your conscious determination to keep going.
For the Caregivers Still Under the Car
If you’re reading this while still in the thick of caregiving—whether for children with special needs, aging parents, or anyone requiring intensive support—please know:
Your survival focus is exactly right for this moment. Don’t add guilt about self-care to your already overwhelming load. Sometimes getting through each day is the self-care.
The car will lift eventually. The crisis phase won’t last forever, even when it feels endless.
Your injuries are real and they matter. When the time comes for healing, honor that process with the same dedication you’ve given to caregiving.
You’re stronger than you know. You’re managing things that would have seemed impossible before they became necessary.
For Those Whose Car Has Lifted
If you recognize yourself in this story—if you’re in your own breakdown phase after years of holding everything together—consider this:
Your breakdown might be your body’s wisdom. Sometimes we need to completely stop to begin genuine healing.
Healing looks different for everyone. For me, it required medical intervention for perimenopause. For you, it might be therapy, career changes, relationship shifts, or simply learning to rest without guilt.
There’s no timeline for recovery. Healing from years of survival mode doesn’t happen quickly. Be patient with yourself.
Your story isn’t over. This breakdown can be the beginning of a more sustainable, authentic way of living.
The Questions That Matter
As I reflect on this journey, the questions that surface aren’t about prevention or doing things differently. They’re about recognition and acceptance:
Where are you in this journey?
How can you recognize that you are doing the best you can?
How can you honor that rest and healing are part of the natural cycle?
These cycles of intensity and recovery don’t make you a weak leader. They make you human. And human leaders who understand their own rhythms are actually the strongest ones.
This understanding has become central to my work with women leaders. Whether you’re in the thick of things or on the other side healing, systems can ensure that your goals continue to move forward, your health is maintained, and your identity persists through all phases of the journey.
Your Turn
If this story resonates with you, you’re not alone. Whether you’re still under the car, in the breakdown phase, or rebuilding from your foundation up, your experience matters. Your resilience is real. Your need for healing is valid.
Where are you in your own cycle right now? Can you recognize that you’re doing the best you can with what you have?
If you’re ready to explore building systems that honor these natural rhythms—systems that sustain your goals and identity through both intense and recovery phases—let’s talk. Sometimes we need someone outside our own experience to help us see what we can’t see ourselves—to be a mirror for our strength and guide us toward systems that work with our humanity, not against it.
[Book a Strategy Session] to discuss how to create systems that support you through all phases of your leadership journey.
Because your story of survival can become a story of systematic thriving. The breakdown can indeed be the breakthrough—and with the right systems, you can maintain momentum through both.
If you’re currently in crisis or experiencing thoughts of self-harm, please reach out to a mental health professional, trusted friend, or crisis hotline immediately. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 988. You don’t have to navigate this alone.
