Are You Living or Just Surviving? | Keys to Exiting Survival Mode

There’s a version of you who knows how to survive.

I know her well.

I met her when I had three babies in three years.

That version of me could keep a house running on almost no sleep.

She could juggle bottles and diapers and work and dinner and still show up smiling.

She could hold a crying baby in one arm, manage a toddler meltdown in the other, and somehow make it to bedtime.

From the outside, it probably looked like resilience.

On the inside, it felt like drowning quietly.

I didn’t know it then, but I was living in survival mode.

Not thriving.

Not breathing deeply.

Just getting through.

What Survival Mode Feels Like

(So You Can Name It When You’re In It):

• Waking up already overwhelmed

• Feeling like you’re faking your way through every conversation

• Forgetting things, losing things, crying over nothing

• Constantly replaying what you said, what you should’ve said, what might happen next

• Feeling on edge or shut down, sometimes both

• Too tired to cook, clean, plan, answer texts, show up

• Feeling invisible even in a crowded room

• Wondering when you’ll finally catch your breath

  
  

If this sounds like you, there’s nothing wrong with you.

You’ve been surviving. That’s all.

But you were made for more.

How to Start Finding Your Way Back

From Someone Who’s Been There

Step One: Notice.

Notice how tired you are.

Notice how hard you’re trying.

Notice the weight you’re carrying.

Not to shame yourself. To see yourself.

That’s where change starts.

Step Two: Find One Small Way To Feel A Little Safer.

Not big, sweeping changes, just one small thing that helps you breathe easier.

I remember the first time I locked the bathroom door, not out of fear, but out of claiming two minutes of space for myself. That tiny moment mattered.

• A locked door while you shower

• Turning your phone off for 10 minutes

• Saying no to one thing today

• Letting someone else help, even if just a little

• Going to bed without the guilt trip

  
  

Safety isn’t grand. It’s quiet. It’s built moment by moment.

Step Three: Slow Down Where You Can.

You don’t need to fix everything right now.

You don’t need a five-year plan.

You need one quiet breath.

One slow cup of tea.

One drive with the radio off.

Slowing down helps you hear yourself again.

And you’ve been missing you.

Step Four: Remember Your Body.

When you’re surviving, you live from the neck up.

Come back to your body. Gently.

I didn’t know how disconnected I’d become until someone asked, “What does your body need right now?” and I realized I had no idea.

• Put your hand on your chest and feel it rise

• Stretch your arms overhead

• Wiggle your toes

• Drink water

• Eat something real

• Run warm water over your hands and feel it

  
  

You don’t have to love your body yet.

Just remind it: You’re still here. You’re allowed to soften.

Step Five: Let Yourself Want Something Small.

It’s okay to want. Even now.

• A walk in fresh air

• A night where you don’t have to explain yourself

• A book that makes you feel something good

• A pair of soft socks

• A conversation where you don’t have to be strong

• A day without apologizing for who you are

  
  

Desire is a sign of life creeping back in.

Step Six: Grieve What You’ve Lost.

Survival costs things.

Time.

Energy.

Dreams.

Pieces of yourself you didn’t want to give up.

Grief isn’t tidy. It doesn’t ask permission.

It might come in waves.

It might look like anger, silence, exhaustion.

It might feel like nothing at all, for a while.

Let it be what it is. Let it move through.

Grieving is how we make space for what’s next.

Step Seven: Know It’s Not Linear.

Some days you’ll feel better. Some days you’ll fall right back in. That’s not failure. That’s healing.

Step Eight: Find People Who See You.

Survival mode thrives in isolation.

Life begins again in connection.

• A friend who listens without fixing

• A therapist who helps you sort the mess

• A support group that understands

• Anyone who reminds you: You don’t have to do this alone.

Step Nine: Ask For Help When You Need It.

If the weight won’t lift, if the darkness won’t break, if you’re thinking things you’ve never thought before, please ask for help.

Not because you’re weak.

Because you’re human.

Because we aren’t meant to heal ourselves alone.

Step Ten: Keep Choosing Life, In Tiny Ways.

Every day you choose to eat, to rest, to reach out, to hope, it matters.

Every small choice says: I believe there’s something more for me than this.

That’s not weakness. That’s courage.

Final Thought:

You are not broken.

You are tired.

You are human.

You are worthy of more than survival.

You are allowed to want it.

And one day, piece by piece, breath by breath,

You will have it.