When I Created My Own Storm

Last week, I created a storm of my own making.

It started innocently enough. My computer seemed slow, Adobe Acrobat was not working, and I needed to send something important to a client. I was frustrated and in a hurry, so I decided to contact the tech support company I normally use.

I googled them and clicked the first link that looked right.

The website looked identical, with the same branding, the same layout, and the same tone. Nothing raised a red flag. I did not scrutinize it carefully because I was moving quickly and simply wanted the issue resolved.

Within minutes, I was on the phone with a “tech support” person. I gave personal information, granted remote access to my computer, and even stepped away while he “worked.”

It was only when something in my body tightened that I realized what was happening.

I had just handed a stranger access to my computer; my files, scans of my passport, personal information, banking details, everything.

Cue the shame. Cue the self judgment. Cue the wave of fear about identity theft and all the possible repercussions.

Why am I telling you this? 

Because I think about resilience all the time. I talk about building a resilience “savings account” through daily deposits such as sleep, breath, boundaries, movement, and intention. This moment was not about building a reserve. It was about how I respond when the storm is already here, especially when I created it.

After the initial surge of shame and panic, I realized something very clearly. If I allowed my nervous system to spiral into fight or flight, my prefrontal cortex would disengage. The very part of my brain I needed in order to think clearly and decide on next steps would go offline.

So I rolled my shoulders back, planted my feet, and breathed.

First, I practiced a balancing breath. I inhaled for eight, held for eight, exhaled for eight, and held again for eight. The inhale and hold help energize and sharpen focus, while the exhale and hold calm the nervous system. I needed both. I needed to be calm enough not to panic and clear enough to act wisely.

After a few rounds, I could feel the shift. My heart rate steadied and my thinking sharpened just enough.

From there, I contacted my real tech support company. They were generous and completely non judgmental. They did a thorough sweep of my computer, checked for spyware, and cleaned what they could. They could not guarantee anything about identity theft, but they did everything possible.

I had done what I could. There was nothing more to fix that day.

So I practiced surrender.

In yoga philosophy, there is a concept called Ishvara Pranidhana, which is the practice of consciously surrendering to something greater when you have done all that is within your control. I had taken the necessary actions, and I could not undo what had happened. That surrender gave me peace. It seemed to work. I was able to finish my workday, prepare dinner, and even attend parent teacher interviews that evening.

But then it was nighttime. The house quieted. The busyness faded and my imagination started to misbehave again. I started ruminating about worst case scenarios: identity theft, financial chaos, months of cleanup. As Steve Chandler, often referred to as the godfather of coaching says, “worry is a misuse of the imagination,” and I was certainly misusing mine.

I turned back to the breath, this time using a 4-1-6 pattern. I inhaled for four, held for one, and exhaled for six. The longer exhale gently signals safety to the nervous system and nudges the body out of fight or flight.

It helped, but my mind was still sticky.

Then I remembered something from my yoga therapist training again. When you are overwhelmed, call in something greater than you. Earlier that week, I had found a tiny picture of Jesus. I grew up Catholic, and that image represents protection and compassion for me. So I held that small image in my hand. On the inhale, I imagined breathing in that presence; on the brief hold, I let it settle in my heart; and on the long exhale, I let it expand through my whole body and beyond. Inhale for four. Hold for one. Exhale for six. Over and over. At some point, the rumination loosened and the grip softened. I fell asleep holding that little image in my hand and woke up with it still there the next morning.

Now, this is not about religion. It does not have to be a spiritual figure. It could be an image of nature, a meaningful symbol, an energy you want to embody. The practice is simple: when the mind spirals and you have done what you can, anchor your body with breath and anchor your heart with something larger than your fear.

This is resilience in real time, not the polished, inspirational version. Its the messy, human, I-can’t-believe-I-did-that version. Resilience is not about never making mistakes. It is not about being invincible or perfectly vigilant.

It is about how quickly we return to center. It is about regulating the body when shame rises. It is about catching the imagination when it runs ahead of reality. It is about surrendering when control is no longer possible.

Last week, I did not make a deposit into my resilience savings account. I made a withdrawal, and I was grateful I had lots in the reserve.

 I am curious: when your mind spirals at night, what can you surrender to? What power can you inhale? Hit reply and let me know. I read every response.

With love from a very human, occasionally impulsive, still learning to slow down version of me,

Monica

P.S. If you would like to practice the exact 8.8.8.8  breathing technique I used, here is a link to download the guided audio:

Download your breathwork session here.

You can use it anytime your nervous system needs both clarity and calm.

P.S.S A special shout-out to my husband Aubrey. When I told him what had happened, he did not shame me or lecture me. He did not say, “How could you?” He simply helped me think it through calmly and practically. That mattered more than I can say. It also reminded me that resilience is not only an internal practice. It is also relational. Sometimes we borrow regulation from the people we love.