Sometimes We Spiral When the Storm Is Over

The Calm Before the Chaos

A couple of months ago, I was absolutely thriving. Like, celery-juice-at-sunrise, matcha-latte-at-lunch, going-for-walks-on-purpose kind of thriving. I was cooking clean meals, getting proper sleep, and waking up before my alarm like one of those smug influencers who set up their cameras at 5am*, then dive back into bed to film themselves “waking up naturally.” My anxiety was low, my skin was glowing, and I was, frankly, suspicious.

I was exercising regularly, doing all my little rituals, lighting incense that smelt like self-worth, and cutting back on all the delicious poisons I used to rely on. I even deleted a few apps off my phone that were causing more damage than my ex-husband ever did. It felt like I had finally broken through. Finally become That Girl. The one who knows what adaptogens are and uses a gua sha more than once.

And then it happened. The wobble. One tiny slip and I spiralled so hard I could’ve qualified for the emotional Olympics. I had a panic attack out of nowhere. Full-blown, chest-tight, world-is-ending panic. And in that moment, instead of breathing through it or texting someone or… literally anything else, I reached for wine. And pizza. And something inside me whispered, “We’re back, baby.”

*does an Influencer really wake up if they’re not filming it?

The Regression Olympics

As I sat cross-legged on the couch with a slice in one hand and a glass in the other, I kept asking myself, why am I doing this? I don’t even want this. It doesn’t taste good. I’ve come so far. So what in the actual fresh hell was happening?

And here’s what I realised: my nervous system has been marinated in chaos for decades. That level of calm I had achieved? It freaked my body out. Like, truly alarmed it. So, it did what it knew best. It created a crisis. It lit a match and tossed it into the pile of inner peace I had so carefully assembled. All so it could breathe in the familiar smoke of dysfunction.

Sometimes, the spiral doesn’t come during the storm. It comes after. When things are too still, too quiet, too good. And your body goes, “Hang on a minute, this isn’t normal. Where’s the cortisol? Where’s the adrenaline? This peace thing is clearly a trap.” And before you know it, you’ve got Dominos on speed dial and a hangover pending.

It’s Not Always Trauma, Sometimes It’s Biology

One of the most frustrating parts of healing, especially if you’re neurospicy, is realising that your body can absolutely betray you. This wasn’t a childhood wound screaming to be acknowledged. This wasn’t a repressed memory rising like a horror movie ghost. This was biology. A body that’s spent decades bracing for impact cannot compute peace.

When you’ve lived with anxiety or high stress for a long time, your nervous system starts to think it’s normal. It adapts. It wires itself to stay alert. And then, when you do all the lovely things you’re supposed to do like rest and relax and live like a functioning human being, your body freaks the hell out. It’s like, “This is unfamiliar. This is suspicious. Let’s cause some drama.”

It’s annoying and frustrating. You work so hard to unlearn all the harmful habits, to treat yourself with love, to show up differently. And still, your body sometimes hits the panic button when there’s nothing to panic about. Like a toddler who’s suspiciously quiet until you realise they’ve drawn on the walls with your favourite lipstick that was discontinued.

The Familiar Comfort of Chaos

Sometimes we spiral not because we’ve failed but because our system genuinely doesn’t know what to do with peace. That first glass of wine or that first bite of pizza might not even be about the food or the drink. It’s about comfort. It’s about slipping back into what feels known and safe, even if it’s the very thing we’ve been trying to escape.

There’s a reason people return to old habits like they’re old lovers. You know how they’ll make you feel. You know the rhythm. There’s no mystery. No unpredictability. Ironically, it’s predictable destruction that can feel safer than unpredictable healing. Better the devil you know. Wild, isn’t it?

The shame spiral that follows doesn’t help either. You already feel like your body has betrayed you, and now your brain joins in with a chorus of, “You always do this” and “Why can’t you just be normal” and “You’re ruining everything.” Thanks, internal monologue. Very helpful.

The Guilt Hangover Is Worse Than the Actual Hangover

It’s wild how one bad night or a week of slipping back into old patterns can make you forget months of progress. You start to feel like you’re back at square one, like all your effort has been wasted, like you’ll never be free of this cycle.

But that’s not true. One bad moment doesn’t erase all the good ones. One spiral doesn’t mean you’ve failed. Sometimes the body relapses because it’s scared. And instead of punishing yourself, what if you treated that moment like a scared child needing reassurance instead of shame?

Instead of going into self-loathing mode, what if you just sat there and said, “Okay. That happened. You felt overwhelmed. You did what you knew. But we’re going to get back on track now.” No drama. No punishment. Just gentleness. Just course-correction.

Reprogramming the Nervous System Isn’t Glamorous

Here’s what I’ve learned. Healing isn’t always a glow-up montage set to indie music. It’s not all candles and bubble baths and deep breaths. Sometimes it’s crying in the shower while whispering, “You’re safe now” like you’re in a Hallmark drama. Sometimes it’s looking at the takeaway containers and deciding not to judge yourself for them.

Sometimes it’s setting the alarm again and deciding to go for a walk even though your brain is screaming that you’re a failure. Sometimes it’s pouring the wine down the sink and making a herbal tea while cursing yourself and also saying, “I’m proud of you.” Healing is messy. Reprogramming is glitchy. But it’s still happening.

And no, your body doesn’t always thank you right away. Sometimes your nervous system is sulky and resistant. It pouts. It craves the old chaos. But the more you repeat the new pathways, the more your body learns. Slowly. Imperfectly. One cup of tea and one deep breath at a time.

What’s Actually Normal for You?

Something I’ve started asking myself is this: what does calm actually feel like to me? Not what the books say. Not what the Instagram wellness girlies say. But me. My version of peace. My version of safety.

Because sometimes we chase these ideas of healing that don’t actually match who we are. And when we achieve them, we don’t feel better. We just feel weird. Like we’re cosplaying someone else’s life. So we spiral not because we failed, but because the version of “healed” we were aiming for wasn’t ours.

I like routine but I also like flexibility. I like structure but I also like chaos snacks (i.e. Cheezels). I love green juice but I also love hot chips with gravy. My healing needs to have space for all of it. The spirals. The relapses. The pizza. The tea. The gentle reminders. The quiet apologies to myself.

You’re not spiralling because you’re broken – you’re spiralling because your nervous system thinks peace is a scam.

You’re Not Broken, You’re Rebuilding

If you’ve spiralled recently, I want you to know this: it doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re rebuilding. And rebuilding is noisy and awkward. Walls fall down. Floors creak. You make mistakes. But the structure gets stronger each time.

Give yourself permission to feel disappointed without diving headfirst into shame. Give yourself grace. Let yourself be human. Healing isn’t linear. Sometimes it’s a gentle stroll. Sometimes it’s a drunken conga line with tears and glitter and bad decisions. But it’s still movement.

So drink your water. Eat something green. Apologise to your nervous system for the whiplash. Tell it you’re not trying to trick it. Tell it you’re trying to help. And then keep going. Even if you’re crawling. Even if it’s a bit ugly. You’ve got this.

One Last Thing

Next time you feel yourself spiralling after a stretch of calm, stop and ask: who am I without the chaos? Who am I when I’m not fixing something, chasing something, avoiding something? That question used to terrify me. But now, it makes me curious.

Because maybe peace isn’t boring. Maybe it’s just unfamiliar. Maybe it’s a space you’ve never lived in long enough to decorate. And maybe, just maybe, you get to decide what it looks like.

And maybe… it still includes pizza. But this time, by choice.

We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity

In today's episode of Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity, we're unpacking why we need to stop clapping for basic decency. You know the script. A man texts back within twenty-four hours and we're screenshotting it to the group chat. A man plans a date more than three hours in advance and we call him a unicorn. A man manages to listen, pay attention, and behave like a fully formed adult, and our nervous systems short-circuit because we genuinely don't know how to receive it.Here's the truth nobody is saying out loud. The bar has been dragged so low that Satan himself needs a chiropractor after a competitive round of limbo. We've been culturally trained to be grateful for behaviour that should not require gratitude. We've been told these things are bonuses when they're actually the entry requirement. And in the meantime, women have been quietly doing the basic decency thing forever, without applause, while men get standing ovations for outputs we generated for them.Today we're talking about why a great man is genuinely just an average woman, who benefits when the bar stays low, the invisible labour women have been performing for free for centuries, and the friend-test that cuts straight through every excuse we've ever made for mediocre men. Let's get into it.For more visit BryJaimea.com or follow over on IG @BryJaimea

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