What do we do when the unexpected arrives? We get laid off. We're hit with an expensive car repair. We suddenly need to move?  

Often when we're met with these unforeseen upsets, we move through stages of grief and loss: denial (this can't be right) anger (i don't deserve this!) bargaining (maybe there's another way?) depression (why even try?) 

As our emotional landscape tries to settle, internally we may feel like we're in freefall.  We're dropping, dropping, dropping, and as we reach for the world that once felt "under control" its construction reveals itself as paper thin. There's nothing to hold on to. 

From this perilous place, we vacillate between a desire to recreate or "get back" what's been lost and total collapse. In our body a hot buzz of anxiety grips our throat and belly while at the same time we may feel heavy, dull, and uninspired.  

Our minds spin with the big picture. If we could just find the answer, do the "right" thing then we'd be free of this predicament. So we Google, scroll and scramble. There's usually some unconscious motivation that this diligent figuring it out will make the uncomfortable freefall feeling go away. When it doesn't and we're exhausted and defeated our next best recourse is to just go numb. 

But there's another way ... 

It's not that there aren't things that need to be done. Maybe we do need to find housing, or a new job or another plan, but when the hook of life sweeps everything from underneath you this isn't the time for big-picture strategy. 

If you'll permit me another analogy, these moments of destabilization are like being overtaken by a sneaker wave.  You were on the beach. Maybe it was a nice day. Maybe you were looking forward to wherever you were heading. You had plans. And then, whooooosh you're in the ocean. 

This is terrifying. So you paddle, swim and fight to get back to what you know, back to what felt safe. But there is no fighting the wave, and it's only a matter of time before your body lets you know. 

If you find yourself swept into the ocean (which I truly hope you never experience), experts agree that the thing to do first is to "relax and catch your breath." 

Relax and catch your breath is good advice for meeting the unexpected. The way you do this is not by trying to get back to where you were, or exerting to figure out the plan. To relax and catch your breath means asking yourself one simple question: What is the right next thing right now? In the case of finding yourself in a big body of water, that is to flip on your back and try float. 

What is the right next thing that addresses not just my mind but the needs of my embodied self? What is the right next thing that acknowledges my fear, my sadness, my uncertainty? 

The right next thing rarely involves a screen or a search bar. The right next thing in these moments of disorientation are small acts of kindness that bring us back to ourselves. 

The right next thing might be cuddling your pet, wrapping yourself in a blanket, or drinking a hot cup of tea. It could be calling a friend, taking a walk, reading a poem or getting out in your garden. Often it requires putting down all other doing.  

When that right next thing is complete. You ask again, and again, and again. 

This kind of care for ourselves while counterintuitive ultimately supports our survival. And when we've found that we can float, that we can find our breath, then we can ask., "o.k., now where would I like to go?