The Parent’s Recovery: Rebuilding After Crisis

The Parent’s Recovery: Rebuilding After Crisis

When your loved one begins to stabilise, how do YOU start to heal?

When your child is in crisis, you don’t think about your own recovery.
You run on autopilot, managing calls, visits, tears, paperwork, fear.

You become their anchor because you have to. But when they start to stabilise, and the storm calms even slightly… that’s when your body catches up with what you’ve been holding.

For me, it’s like emotional whiplash. One moment, I’m functioning. The next, I can’t remember the last proper meal I ate or the last night I slept through.

After a crisis, the professionals focus on them, understandably. Their care plan. Their safety. Their medication. But no one gives you a recovery plan for you. There’s no “debrief for the parent.”

No gentle transition from survival to healing.

And so, we stay wired.
We stay alert, even when the danger has passed.
We hover, half in the past, half in the next “what if.”

It’s taken me a long time to realise that this constant hyper-vigilance isn’t strength, it’s trauma. The body’s way of saying, “I’ve carried too much.”

So how do you start to rebuild after that?
Here’s what I’ve learned, slowly, painfully, and with a lot of trial and error:

⚓️ 1. Give yourself permission to stop.

You don’t have to fill every silence. You don’t have to fix everything. Rest isn’t laziness, it’s repair.

⚓️ 2. Reconnect with your senses.

Grounding isn’t just for them; it’s for you too. Try the 5-4-3-2-1 technique:
5 things you can see,
4 you can touch,
3 you can hear,
2 you can smell,
1 you can taste.
It’s how you tell your brain:

“We’re safe now.”

⚓️ 3. Write, don’t replay.

Journaling or blogging has been my quiet medicine. Instead of looping through what went wrong, I write what I’ve learned, and what still scares me. Somehow, seeing it on paper makes it smaller.

⚓️ 4. Notice the moments of calm.

The first cup of coffee you actually taste and finish. The first laugh that doesn’t feel forced. The first walk with the dogs where your chest doesn’t ache. They’re small, but they mean recovery has begun.

⚓️ 5. Talk.

Whether it’s a friend, a group, or a therapist, speak it out loud. The things we carry in silence grow heavier.

Recovery as a parent doesn’t look like bubble baths and self-care quotes.
It’s often quiet tears in the kitchen, long walks with the dogs, and learning not to panic when the phone rings.

But every small act of self-kindness rebuilds something.
Every boundary you set, every deep breath you take, every reminder that you’re allowed to heal too — that’s progress.

You can’t pour from an empty cup, but you can refill it, one sip at a time.

Your Calm in the Chaos,

Sami xx

💌 If you’re coming out of crisis too, download my free guide “Calm in 5” five grounding tools to help you breathe again when life feels heavy.