Keeping Your Sh*t Together in a Crisis

Let’s be real, the things we call “emergencies” here in Canada don’t always compare to the devastation happening around the world. Perspective matters. But that doesn’t mean our bodies don’t react when something goes sideways at 4:30 in the morning. A crisis is still a crisis when it’s happening in your living room.

And that’s exactly how my day started.

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. to the sound of running water. I sleep with my door closed and a fan on, so for it to pull me out of sleep, it had to be loud. At first, I just sat there, trying to figure out if I was dreaming, but something in me knew it wasn’t right.  Did I leave a faucet on last night? No, I would have heard that before bed. What is going on? I walked into my living room and saw water pouring out of the ceiling, literally funnelling through a light fixture and seeping through cracks above me. Both couches were soaked. The carpet was saturated. Clothes were wet. There was a puddle, inches deep, spreading across the floor, and the water wasn’t stopping.

When my kids aren’t with me, I live alone. And while I’ve faced a lot of shit in life, I’ve never had this kind of crisis without someone else right there to help me figure it out. When I was married, emergencies were handled as a team, or at least with another set of hands. This was different. It was me, half-asleep, staring at my ceiling while it rained indoors.

My first thought wasn’t profound. It was basically: What the actual fuck is happening? But right after that, instinct kicked in. Not panic, but problem-solving. Which, for the record, is not my lifelong default. I’ve had to train myself to respond differently. Years of using and teaching cognitive behavioural tools have reshaped the way I move through hard things.

I remembered that the maintenance guy who lives across the street told me once to call him directly in emergencies. So, at 4:30 a.m., I did. And bless this man, he answered and came over immediately. At first, we thought a pipe had burst. He shut off the water to the building, but the leak kept going. He went upstairs to check my neighbours’ unit, and that’s when we found the source:

Their 70-gallon fish tank had emptied, ALL OF IT, and the water had drained straight into my apartment.

Not only was it water, it was bright orange fish water. It was pouring from my ceiling, soaking into carpets and furniture, and turning my cute, Bath & Body Works scented apartment into something that smelled like a pet store. Everything soft in the room was disgusting. Even now, after the water has stopped, the smell is still lingering.

This is where mindset matters.

What Keeping It Together Actually Looks Like

Over the years, I’ve trained myself to look for silver linings even in the middle of chaos. It is not toxic positivity. It is survival. And it showed up immediately. One of my first thoughts was, at least I do not have any clients booked today. I did not have to scramble, cancel sessions, or show up on camera pretending everything was fine. My next thought was, thank God my kids are not here right now. I normally have them on Thursday nights. If they were here, this would have been a completely different situation; I do not need two little ones stepping in orange aquarium runoff at dawn.

Once again. Perspective: silver linings do not erase the problem; they simply stop me from collapsing under it. I reminded myself: I can’t stop water that’s already falling. I can only do the next necessary thing. So instead of panicking, I went step by step.

Control the controllables

• I couldn’t stop the ceiling from leaking; I could move my furniture.

• I couldn’t dry the room instantly; I could grab buckets.

• I couldn’t fix what caused it; I could call the person who could.

We got a wet vac. We brought in fans. I pulled soaked items out of the room. I opened doors. I made piles of what was ruined. And the whole time, I could feel the old wiring in my head wanting to catastrophize: Why does this happen to me? Their insurance better cover it. I can’t deal with this today.

But I didn’t let that narrative run. That’s where CBT makes the difference, not in theory, but in the moment the nervous system wants to take you down. I swapped the thoughts out with ones that were more useful:

• I’ve handled worse.

• This is gross and inconvenient, not life-ending.

• I don’t need to solve everything right now, just the next thing.

I allowed myself to stay in the moment, as calm as I could be to remain functional, but still pissed off and annoyed af on the inside. Breathe. Just breathe.

The Bigger Picture

Here’s the thing: yes, this is a “first-world crisis.” No one was harmed. There’s no medical emergency. The world is literally on fire in places, and my ceiling issue doesn’t compare. But the nervous system doesn’t wait for global context to decide if something is overwhelming. Trauma responses don’t check the news first. When water is pouring from your ceiling before sunrise and your home suddenly feels unsafe, your body reacts. My perspective and capacity to implement cognitive behavioural tools didn’t erase my experience, but it sure as hell helped me move through it with a bit more humility and grace.

What This Taught Me—Again:

• You don’t have to feel calm to act effectively.

• Logic can be louder than panic if you practice it enough.

• Asking for help doesn’t make you incapable.

• Problem-solving is a skill, not a personality trait.

• Crisis capacity is built, not something you’re magically born with.

• Silver linings are anchors, not delusions.

And honestly? I impressed myself. Not because I loved being ankle-deep in fish water before dawn, but because I handled it without spiralling. I didn’t collapse. I didn’t shut down. I did what needed to be done.

Final Thoughts

Whether it’s a flooded living room, a breakup, a job loss, a diagnosis, or a sudden life curveball, the process is the same:

Pause.
Assess.
Act.
Reframe.
Breathe.
Repeat.

And, remember: If you’ve ever had to hold yourself together while everything around you felt like it was falling apart, you’re not alone. Resilience isn’t built by avoiding crisis. It forms in the moments we face what life throws at us. You don’t have to navigate any of it alone. If you're moving through something hard or still feeling the ripple effects of what already happened, reach out. Support is allowed before, during, and after the storm.

- Belle Love