How to Reclaim Your Momentum After a Crisis

Dozens of people were gathered for our anniversary reception — friends, supporters, partners, and local dignitaries. The sun was shining, and hundreds of guests were enjoying our beautiful pool. It should have been an incredible day of celebration.

But I was on the verge of tears. I hadn’t slept well in months. When I did, I woke feeling like an elephant was sitting on my chest. It took two hours each morning to get myself reasonably functional. I had to avoid most crowds, loud music, or bright lights. My resting heart rate was 12 beats higher than normal, and my HRV rarely rose above the 30's.

Hurricane Harvey made landfall on August 25, 2017, destroying much of the Texas coast. A year later, I couldn’t avoid the realization that it was still destroying my life. The physical damage is somewhat obvious (except to insurance companies). The mental and psychological toll is less so.

There’s the storm itself. Then the immediate aftermath and month without any utilities. The stabilization, and restoring the mechanical infrastructure. The first phases of repair, and the continued weather challenges. Keeping the team and extended coalition aligned and hopeful. Communicating with guests and navigating a bumpy re-opening. All with far fewer insurance proceeds than expected.

We lived at the brink, facing existential challenges every few weeks.

I had given my team and the recovery my full efforts for an entire year. I’d reached my personal crisis point, and I knew this couldn’t continue.

Thankfully, I was scheduled to visit my sister the following weekend for my nephew’s birthday. I spent three full days mostly unplugged — playing with toy cars, eating watermelons, and reading books about dragons. The beautiful thing about 3 and 5 year-old boys is that they quickly become the center of the universe and consume our full attention.

It wasn’t planned with that intention, but I realized it was the perfect way to start my reset. I decided to take the first two days back at home to continue the process. I’d read several relevant books and asked the advice of more than a dozen crisis experts. It was time to map out my personal recovery and commit to it.

Here’s how I reclaimed my life:

Step One: Make daily commitments to restore my health.

Intuitively, I knew my health had to come first. My body was signaling the effects of the sustained stress, and that needed to be reversed.

I knew I needed daily repetition, so my goals needed to be flexible enough to be achievable on any type of day. I brainstormed a list of over twenty activities that would have been helpful, and scrutinized each to decide whether it could be consistent.

I decided to keep just a few:

• Journal in the morning and evening (using the 5 Minute Journal)
• Make breakfast smoothie (with cashew milk, Onnit protein, spinach, blueberries, and a half banana)
• Follow my Apple Watch fitness goals (stand every hour and exercise for 30 minutes)
• Take my Kindle to bed so I’d have a healthy choice when I woke in the middle of the night (preset on a biography or fiction with the lighting set very low)

I had already weaned myself off energy drinks and Dr. Pepper over the summer, or I would have added this as a health goal too. I’d relied on that crutch after the storm and knew it wasn’t a good choice. Three weeks of headaches in late June thankfully ended that chapter of addiction.

Step Two: Get clarity on what I can impact or influence.

It often felt like things were stuck or going backwards, and it was hard to determine where I should focus my attention. I decided to make lists — one for areas that I could directly affect, one for where I had influence or could contribute information, and one for the obstacles that were out of our control.

For the first two, I made more lists of actual action steps, and then prioritized and grouped them by topic area so I could review it with each of my Directors. For the last one, I made notes where I thought each one was stuck and who I could talk about it with to confirm my assessment or determine a next step.

I used Evernote for this so I could share the topic pages with my Directors, and because ideas often came when I was away from my computer. I’d capture thoughts on my morning walks or at the grocery store. The initial ‘brain dump’ happened over two days, and then I refined it over the next couple weeks.

Step Three: Write the story.

The hurricane recovery was so consuming that it felt like my entire life revolved around it. And my head was often swirling with a jumble of memories, worries, and what-if’s.

To move forward, I needed to put things in context. We’d already committed to write a book, and I realized the writing process was exactly what I needed. I committed to an intense schedule with weekly milestones and carved out time each weekend to focus on writing and assembling.

After I wrote the chapter outlines, my team hesitated to tell me that many were out of sequence. So they created a timeline. I almost cried when it saw it, as it helped me solve the puzzle of my jumbled memories. Re-reading original emails also helped me understand why we’d made key decisions, even if they hadn’t turned out well. We were dealing with the best information we had at each moment.

We published the book on November 5, and the feedback has been affirming and heartwarming. But that’s all just a bonus. My reward was making sense of my own memories and experiences, and that peace is immeasurable. Whether to share with others or to keep private, I’d strongly recommend the process of documenting and reviewing your journey through a crisis or challenge. To heal, we need to understand our story. That’s hard to do without getting out of our own head.

Step Four: Assemble a team of specific supporters.

Lots of folks had offered to help, and I finally took them up on it. The key difference was being clear and direct with each one on where I needed them to support me. I also had to be vulnerable enough to share with them where I had been struggling.

Grete, Janet, Adam, and Debra hold me accountable for my daily workouts. If I feel awful, I can show up and just go through the motions. But I’m not allowed to skip. Once I start, I remember that I always feel better after a workout.

Victoria, Toby, or Pat check-in on Friday evenings. That’s the point of the week where my mind is most likely to take a negative detour. Whether it’s dinner at Snoopy’s or gathering at a friends’ house, they keep me on track through the predictably tough times.

Amy, Anna, and Terri are my lifelines when I need to talk through something urgent. I know I can call at any time of the day or night, and they’ll answer. Or I can toss out a challenge that feels ridiculous to even say out loud, and they’ll calmly help me dissect it.

I’ve also had to be more honest with my Directors about when I’m feeling exhausted. Sometimes, the best choice I can make is to go home and take a nap. That feels embarrassing to admit. They’ve been incredibly kind and supportive, and we’ve learned that we’re a much stronger team when we’re coordinating with each other.

In hindsight, it makes sense that it would take synchronous efforts across each of these areas to have enough positive impact to overcome the effects of intense and sustained stress. We need a baseline level of health as a foundation. And then we need clarity on our next steps, to understand our own story, and the support of others.

If you’ve been through a crisis and are ready to reset, here are four pillars to focus on:

1. Commit to consistent daily actions that support your health.
2. Clarify your areas of impact and influence so you can determine what activities to focus on.
3. Write down your experiences to create a story that gives your journey meaning.
4. Rally friends and family to support you in specific ways.

Looking at our circumstances, little has changed. But it feels like I have a completely different life.

Three months ago, I was as broken as I’d ever been.

Once I committed to my gameplan and setup the supports I’d need to stay on track, I knew things would get better. I had no idea how true that could be.

Today, I’m as healthy as I’ve ever been. I woke after a full night of uninterrupted sleep. My HRV was 82. I started my morning by thinking about what I’m grateful for, and what would make today great. I made my breakfast smoothie and tuned into my YouTube subscriptions for an inspiring video.

Later this morning, I’ll head to my spin class. It’ll be my 84th consecutive day of achieving my exercise goals.

This evening, I’ll review my priority checklists and map out the key focus areas for this week. Instead of dreading tomorrow morning, I’m excited about the projects we can move forward.

My life hinges on just a few choices each day, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.