A Morning That Didn’t Spiral: A Real-Time Example of Responsive Choice
A Morning That Didn't Spiral
There was a time when a morning like this would have set the tone for my entire day.
The alarms didn't go off. I had gone to sleep late. When I opened my eyes and checked the clock, it was already the time my daughter should have been walking to class.
Objectively, nothing good had happened.
We were late. It was the first day back. There was already tension around school. This was the exact kind of moment that used to trigger panic, rushing, raised voices, and that familiar frantic narration of reality: We're late. Hurry up. Oh my god.
That reaction is understandable. It's conditioned. It's what most of us were taught to do when something goes wrong.
But this morning, something else happened.
I didn't freeze, and I didn't perform calm. I simply noticed what was happening and, almost instinctively, asked myself one question:
What is the one thing I can control right now?
The answer wasn't time. It wasn't the lateness. It was me.
So instead of jumping into urgency, I regulated first. I made a quick instant coffee. I did a cold water face dip to activate my vagus nerve. It took seconds, not minutes, but it was enough to bring my nervous system online.
Cold Water Face Dip
One of my quickest go-to tools for nervous system regulation. Cold water activates the vagus nerve, shifting your body out of fight-or-flight in seconds. (Bonus: it's also great for your skin.)
My daughter was incredible. She got ready quickly and without resistance. She asked me to do her hair. Under the circumstances, that felt like the last thing I wanted to add to the morning, but she needed it. Stressing about it wouldn't change that, so I did it.
When we got into the car, I told her the truth.
I told her she had done an amazing job. That she was efficient, calm, and responsible. I also told her that I had taken a little longer than I could have, intentionally. That I chose to take a moment to center myself rather than rush us both into stress, especially knowing we were about to walk into an uncomfortable situation.
She understood immediately.
She smiled because she knows the difference between those two versions of a morning. She's lived both. And she was genuinely happy that her effort was seen and named.
The situation didn't magically resolve. We were still late. I still had to walk into the office and explain it. But the moment didn't derail our day. It didn't fracture our connection. It didn't spill stress everywhere.
That's the difference between reacting and responding.
Responsiveness doesn't mean nothing goes wrong. It means you don't let the wrong thing hijack everything else.
When the Work Feels Pointless (But Isn't)
I want to add something important here, because this is where people often get discouraged.
When you've been doing the work for a long time—regulating your nervous system, healing old patterns, learning how to respond instead of react—it can be deeply frustrating to still be met with moments like this. To wake up late. To feel pressure. To think, why does life still feel like it's coming at me?
There are moments when it's easy to slip into thinking, What's the point of all this healing? Why am I meditating, journaling, regulating, if I'm still dealing with the same kinds of situations?
That thought doesn't mean you're failing. It means you're human.
Healing is not a finish line. It's not a personality upgrade where nothing touches you anymore. It's a lifelong practice, and the transition from survival to centeredness looks different for everyone. For some it takes weeks. For others, months. For many, years.
What's easy to miss is that these moments are not evidence that the work "isn't working." They are the exact moments the work is for.
This morning didn't require perfection. It required presence.
The choice I made wasn't the result of a sudden breakthrough. It was the result of repetition. Of days where I didn't respond well and reflected later. Of moments where I reacted and asked myself afterward, What would I do differently next time? Of practicing regulation when nothing was wrong so it was available when something was.
That's why this decision felt instantaneous. Not because it was effortless, but because it was trained.
I also want to be honest about something else. A lot of healing language sounds great in theory: Just reframe it. Just change your perspective. That advice can feel almost insulting when you're starting from zero, when your nervous system has only known urgency or survival.
That's why real-life examples matter.
Not to say "do it like this," but to show that responsiveness is built, not imagined. That it comes from practice, not platitudes. And that when you don't respond the way you wish you had, that moment isn't a failure—it's feedback.
Life will still present challenges. The difference is not whether they happen, but whether they hijack everything else with them.
What This Actually Looks Like
Here's what happened in real time:
The reactive version (the old pattern):
Wake up panicked
Immediately rush and narrate the panic out loud
Transfer stress to my daughter through tone and urgency
Create a frantic morning that leaves both of us disregulated
Walk into school feeling shame, disconnection, and exhaustion
Let that energy spill into the rest of the day
The responsive version (what actually happened):
Notice the situation without immediately reacting
Ask: What can I control right now?
Regulate my nervous system first (coffee, cold water—seconds, not minutes)
Move calmly but efficiently
Honor my daughter's request even though it wasn't convenient
Communicate transparently about my choice to center myself
Acknowledge her effort and capability
Walk into an uncomfortable situation without being hijacked by it
This wasn't a performance. It wasn't a pause for deep analysis. It was a split-second, embodied decision that came from doing the work over time.
Life will still life. The shift is in how much collateral damage it gets to cause.
The Point
Doing the work does not stop life from happening.
Healing does not mean you stop getting triggered.
Progress is not the absence of hard moments—it's the quality of your response inside them.
Feeling discouraged is part of the process, not evidence that the process is failing.
What looks like a "split-second choice" is actually the result of years of practice.
And for people starting from zero, platitudes about "just reframe" are useless without lived examples.
This is one of those examples. Not perfect. Not polished. Just real.
Have you had a moment like this—where you responded differently than you used to? I'd love to feature real stories from readers who are doing this work. If you have an example that might help others see what responsive living looks like in their own lives, email me at o@luxskol.com with "My Story" in the subject line. Your experience could be exactly what someone else needs to read. If not, feel free to comment your responsive changes too!
And if this resonated, share it with someone who might need the reminder that healing is practice, not perfection.
