Covid maybe over but our nervous systems didn't get the message

Tue, 19 Aug 2025 15:56:36 GMT

COVID May Be Over, But Did Our Nervous Systems Get The Memo?!

Why the Pandemic Still Lives in Our Nervous Systems

We may have moved on from lockdowns, but the aftermath may still challenge our bodies. Many of us remain stuck in a state of survival—fatigued, anxious, and waiting for the next crisis to arise. Understanding how COVID and climate anxiety shape our nervous systems can help us reclaim rest, connection, and hope.

Why the Pandemic Still Lives in Our Nervous Systems

“It feels like my body never recovered from the panic and fear of COVID,” a client told me recently. She had survived the virus we as a globe experienced years ago, working tirelessly throughout. Working within education, she supported frontline workers and their children. She answered emails late into the night, taught both in-person and online classes, and—like many of us—watched the seemingly endless news.

When she returned to work after the lockdowns, life never slowed down again. Now she lives with relentless fatigue, brain fog, chronic pain, and a nagging sense she can never truly rest. Even when she tries, a late-night email, a climate news headline, or the pull of fear-based social media jolts her nervous system back into a state of vigilance. She whispered, “I long for a time when I will have energy and be able to enjoy life again; at the moment, it feels elusive.”

The world has officially “moved on,” even healthcare workers and educators appear not to recognise the probable link between the escalation in anxiety-related illness and our recent pandemic. Our bodies are speaking a vivid language. Many of us—especially women, who carried the lion’s share of care during the pandemic— may remain stuck in survival mode. It’s not a weakness, it’s biology.

The Body Remembers What the Mind Wants to Forget

Headlines move on, but our bodies hold on. Trauma is stored in the body in myriad ways. Neuroscience and polyvagal theory show that our nervous system constantly scans for safety or danger, often outside our awareness.

During the pandemic, this system was on overdrive: checking news updates, taking tests in apocalyptic settings, worrying about loved ones, and coping with loneliness or impossible workloads. For many, the threat never ended. Working from home blurred boundaries, and midnight emails kept us on alert; parents—particularly mothers—felt “on duty” around the clock.

Over time, the nervous system adapted by staying stuck in survival mode. Some lived in a state of fight or flight (restless, anxious). Others appeased and constantly attended to the needs of others. Still others collapsed into exhaustion and brain fog. These are not failings. They are intelligent survival strategies—our bodies trying to protect us.

My Own Story of Collapse and Recovery

During the early months of lockdown, I was juggling more than felt humanly possible: psychotherapy placement, delivering online training, writing MSc essays at 5 a.m., and schooling my five-year-old. At night, I scrolled endlessly through global news.

My daughter began screaming every time I opened the laptop. One night, I woke with crushing chest pain and called 999, fearing a heart attack. Paramedics gently told me it was stress—something they were seeing all too often. Shame washed over me. How could I, teaching resilience, be collapsing myself?

In time, I learned to meet that shame with compassion. I stopped forcing my daughter into Teams lessons and took her outside to collect tadpoles instead. I limited news, meditated, prayed, and leaned into hugs, Yin Yoga, and our dog’s comfort. The fear never fully left—but I created small pockets of safety amidst chaos.

From Pandemic Stress to Climate Grief

Just as we began to recover, the climate crisis became impossible to ignore. Unlike COVID, which had visible waves and vaccines, climate change feels endless. Each news cycle brings floods, fires, and heat records. Social media amplifies fear without offering hope.

This fuels climate grief: a mix of dread, helplessness, and mourning for the future. Even if we’re not consciously thinking about it, our bodies feel it. The nervous system doesn’t distinguish between a predator in the room and a crisis unfolding on a screen. Both activate survival.

Many people describe being “tired but wired.” Not lazy, not faking—it’s survival biology. And women, socialised to tend, befriend, and appease, often over-function to the point of depletion.

The Missing Stories of Hope

Part of why our bodies struggle to recover is that our diet of information is unbalanced. We are fed fear but rarely stories that soothe. Hope and safety aren’t luxuries—they’re physiological necessities.

When we see examples of kindness, care, repair and cooperation, our nervous systems relax. These hopeful stories are everywhere: communities rebuilding after disasters, regenerative farming, and local groups reducing emissions while strengthening connections.

For my clients, I frame these not as “good news fluff,” but as nervous system medicine. They remind us that danger isn’t the whole story—there is also care, creativity, and resilience.

Practical Ways to Soothe a World-Weary Nervous System

If you’ve felt drained, hyperalert, or stuck since the pandemic—and now carry climate anxiety—you’re not alone. These are your body’s intelligent attempts to survive. Small practices can help remind your system that safety still exists:

Create micro-boundaries with technology. Turn off notifications at night and reshape your feeds by training your algorithms to focus on uplifting messages and stories.
Use your body to speak safety. Gentle humming, slow exhalations, or placing a hand on your chest can calm the vagus nerve.
Anchor in connection & community. Friendly gatherings, book clubs, climate groups, or neighbourhood projects all remind the body we’re not alone. Linger in joyful moments and laughter; they are medicine for our nervous systems.
Balance fear with hope. Pair every frightening headline with at least three stories of human creativity, compassion and hope. (A ratio of 3-1 helps challenge the biological negative bias in the brain.)
Practice compassionate boundaries. Notice when you appease or over-function, and experiment with pausing, resting, or saying no.

These aren’t quick fixes. They’re invitations to reclaim rest, play, and connection, even in uncertain times.

Listening to What Our Bodies Already Know

The pandemic may be over, but our bodies haven’t forgotten. As climate anxiety grows, many of us remain braced, appeasing, collapsing, or pushing past exhaustion.

These are not weaknesses. They are wisdom—our nervous systems working to keep us safe. Yet survival isn’t the whole story. By cultivating practices of soothing, connection, and hope, we can teach our bodies something new: it is possible to feel safe again.

Just as fear spreads, so does hope. Each act of compassion, each boundary, each story of repair shifts the balance. We may not control global crises, but we can reclaim choices that whisper to our bodies: you are safe, you are connected, you are allowed to rest.

�� Gentle Call to Action

�� If this blog resonated with you, please feel free to share it with a friend who might need it.

You can also explore more about healing, resilience, and guided meditations on my website and YouTube channel.

I also offer - Counselling & psychotherapy for individuals seeking rest, healing and reconnection

Workshops & training for organisations building resilience and wellbeing

My Resilient Week

Fri, 22 Feb 2019 09:53:19 GMT

The 25th and 26th of March always come looming towards me. Sometimes I feel the waves of mental and emotional unrest, distress anxiety and post-trauma from the end of February. This year though, I felt reasonably okay. I've had lots of work to look forward to in March, an awesome conference to attend and even a severe health scare (all turned out well!) to keep my mind and emotional self, preoccupied. The 24th arrives and I can feel my mind begin it's hazy spiral, I'm more prepared though this year! It is 6 years on the 25th that I found out my baby son Oscar had died; at just over full term, he was born the following day on the 26th March. On the 27th March, my wonderful partner Carl and I had to say goodbye to Oscar forever. We held him for 17 precious hours before I handed him over to the lovely midwife, not knowing where he would be going now or how I was even going to function...! Carl and I had to walk out of the hospital without the joy of our new baby. Every year these days are so difficult to get through. Most years since 2013 I have just got ill, no matter what I've tried to do. Like a wonderful coping mechanism my body has to just make it's self physically ill so I can't feel the emotional and mental pain quite so much. This year, I made sure our diaries were clear and put no pressure or expectations on myself. Carl and I took care of ourselves, each other and our amazing little girl Amelie, who is 4. I Listened to my body, which felt like my muscles had been replaced with lead and my head was going to float away. I practised compassion for myself and my family. I allowed those terribly traumatic memories to bubble up and offer me pain. Though I wanted to push them away I knew I couldn't, I softly looked at them, felt them and allowed them to naturally disperse or morph into another. On the 25th March Carl and I took our big crazy dog for a lovely walk. Carl on his roller skates, resiliently and joyfully reliving his youth and rekindling a hobby that brings him immense pleasure, I ran around a beautiful lake, stopping and taking in the light, colour, sounds and awe of nature. Painful though it was, I chatted to my little boy, just on the off chance he could hear me and even if he couldn't it's a therapeutic practice. I always have to apologise for any part I had or for not listening to my body well enough to save him. No matter how many people tell me it wasn't my fault, I carry guilt. I am his mum, and I've come to the peaceful resignation that that's the way it is, and it's ok for me! I don't beat myself up or unduly give myself pain or punish myself over my guilt; the constant questioning of "why, if only" dissipated years ago. I am just gentle with my self and let my self say "sorry, my darling boy".... because I am! So our walk was lovely, watching Max, the dog, leaping in the lake and thinking about the smiles on people's faces as Carl roller-skated past being pulled by a great big silly dog! The 26th of March came over Carl and I like a dark heavy blanket but we got ourselves together and went to Oscars natural burial site armed with plants and water and towels and a picture of him for Amelie as she had asked us to take it so she could see him. Amelie and I planted the flowers whilst Carl pruned some of the trees and we tidied up his spot. We all quietly in our own way said the words we needed to. We dropped Amelie off at nursery after talking to her about all the fun she was going to have at forest school that afternoon. Carl and I went home and I headed straight for the blanket on the sofa, made a hot water bottle and found some silly dinosaur movie. The pain surging around my body and mind can't be taken away but I could let myself feel it whilst occupying myself with a film and cuddling myself up with care and love.I honestly don't know how I would have got through the last 6 years without knowing what I know about well-being and resilience; just like having a medical first aid kit, knowing the techniques and having an understanding of what's really happening in my body and mind enables me to take the best care of myself and my family, particularly through the hardest part of the year. Now on the 27th of March, I can feel myself heading out of the tunnel and the weight begins to lift; gently looking forward to the weeks ahead, work opportunities and bookings and Mothers Day this coming Sunday, spending loving time with my family. Thanks so much for reading, hope your day is filled with beauty.

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Covid maybe over but our nervous systems didn't get the message

COVID May Be Over, But Did Our Nervous Systems Get The Memo?!

Why the Pandemic Still Lives in Our Nervous Systems

Why the Pandemic Still Lives in Our Nervous Systems

The Body Remembers What the Mind Wants to Forget

My Own Story of Collapse and Recovery

From Pandemic Stress to Climate Grief

The Missing Stories of Hope

Practical Ways to Soothe a World-Weary Nervous System

Listening to What Our Bodies Already Know

�� Gentle Call to Action

�� If this blog resonated with you, please feel free to share it with a friend who might need it.

You can also explore more about healing, resilience, and guided meditations on my website and YouTube channel.

I also offer - Counselling & psychotherapy for individuals seeking rest, healing and reconnection

Workshops & training for organisations building resilience and wellbeing

My Resilient Week