Your nervous system after disaster—what's normal and how to help

This is part of a three-part series focused on natural disasters. The devastation of natural disasters has been weighing on my heart. Can we pause to talk about it, together? You have seen the pictures and videos of Texas, and I know it is breaking your heart, too. As I write this, Texas is still dealing with the aftermath of devastating flooding, and families in Myanmar and Thailand are searching through rubble after a 7.7 magnitude earthquake that has claimed thousands of lives.

If you're reading this and have been affected by either of these disasters—or any natural disaster—I want you to know that what you're experiencing right now is terrifying, confusing, and utterly incomprehensible; you are normal. Your nervous system is doing precisely what it was designed to do. And is highly intelligent, finding ways to keep you safe. But don't give up, you will make it through this.

When Your World Gets Turned Upside Down

Natural disasters create a unique type of trauma that's different from other traumatic experiences. Why? Because they shatter our most basic assumption about safety—that the ground beneath our feet is solid, that our homes are secure, that we have some control over our environment.

I remember talking with a client after Hurricane Katrina. She kept saying, "I just can't believe this happened. I keep thinking I will wake up and everything will be back to normal." That's Phase 1 trauma response: shock and disbelief. Her nervous system was literally protecting her from the full reality of what had happened by keeping her in a state of emotional numbing.

The research on disaster psychology shows us that this shock response can last days or even weeks. Your brain is essentially saying, "This is too much information to process all at once, so I'm going to feed it to you in small doses." It's actually brilliant—your nervous system is titrating the trauma so you can function. At this point, all survivors need to focus on their basic needs of

 life: safety, food, clothing, and shelter.

My travels to help in the aftermath of the Haitan earthquake in 2010.

The grief of one boy expressed in his art. He lost both his parents.

The Grief That Comes in Waves

Then comes Phase 2: the stages of grief. But here's what they don't tell you—grief after natural disasters isn't just about losing people (though that's the most devastating part of it). You're grieving the loss of your sense of safety, home, routines, community, and assumptions about how the world works.

The recent Texas flooding that prompted a Major Disaster Declaration has left families not just dealing with the sudden loss of life and property damage, but with the emotional impact of watching their neighborhoods transform overnight. You're grieving the "before" version of your life, and that grief is valid and necessary.

I've seen this grief show up as anger—at the government response, at insurance companies, at neighbors who didn't help. I've seen it show up as bargaining—"If I just work hard enough, I can get everything back to normal." And I've seen it show up as depression—a bone-deep exhaustion that feels like it will never end.

Each person's path through this grief is unique. Some people need to talk through their experience over and over. Others need to focus on concrete action. Some need to feel their emotions fully, while others need to take breaks from feeling to preserve their sanity. There's no right way to grieve a disaster.

The Resilience That Rises From Community

But here's what gives me hope: disasters also reveal something extraordinary about human nature. In Texas, we're seeing neighbors helping neighbors, strangers opening their homes, communities coming together in ways that remind us of our interconnectedness. This isn't just heartwarming—it's neurobiologically healing.

Dr. Stephen Porges' research on the polyvagal theory shows us that our nervous systems regulate through safe social connection. When we help others or receive help, our vagus nerve sends signals of safety that help our entire system settle. The mutual aid efforts we're seeing aren't just practical—they're therapeutic.

If You're Affected: What Your Nervous System Needs

If you're reading this and have experienced any natural disaster recently, please know that your reactions are normal. Your hypervigilance? That's your nervous system trying to keep you safe. Your emotional numbness? That's your brain protecting you from overwhelm. Your intense need to help others? That's your social nervous system seeking connection and meaning.

What you need right now isn't to "get over it" or "move on." You need:

• Safety and predictability, where possible
• Connection with others who understand
• Time to process at your own pace
• Professional support if you're feeling overwhelmed

Your nervous system has been through something extraordinary. Be gentle with yourself as it finds its way back to regulation.

What's Coming Next

Next week in Part 2 of this newsletter, we'll explore how global disasters affect us all, practical ways to support affected communities, and strategies for protecting your nervous system while staying connected to the world around you.

Remember: You are not broken. You are not weak. You are a human being whose nervous system is doing precisely what it was designed to do in the face of the unthinkable.

We're all connected in this human experience. Let's hold each other gently.

With love and solidarity,
Sharon