5 AM under the stars in Sedona-As my mother was dying
How CARE built my capacity, and A.I.R. got me through the crisis
I've told you about the seizure. That was my rock bottom.
I've told you about my sister telling me to take a walk, my first real A.I.R. experience, when she interrupted my spiral and helped me regulate.
But I haven't told you about Sedona yet. The moment that reinforced everything I was just beginning to understand about receiving support, just weeks after that walk with my sister.
The Days Before
I'd spent the week immersed in CARE, though I didn't call it that yet.
Compassion for myself and the other women there, many of us carrying the weight of recent loss as well as years of trauma.
Awareness of what my body was holding, what I'd been pushing through, what I desperately needed.
Restoration that went deeper than a weekend workshop ever could, the kind that only happens when you permit yourself to truly rest.
Embodiment through movement, breathwork, dancing like no one was watching, because finally, no one needed anything from me.
The retreat leader, a former ICU nurse manager, had created this space intentionally. We'd talked often before this retreat about the impossibility of trying to change systems from the inside, about the toll it takes.
She knew. She'd stepped away too, choosing instead to build a community where women leaders and entrepreneurs could actually heal through nervous system work, breathwork, and embodied leadership.
She was my inspiration for what I'm building now.
That week, I felt what it was like to rebuild my capacity. The bonfire where we released what we'd been carrying. The permission to just be.
I'd just finished that cathartic bonfire. We'd released what we'd been carrying. I was heading to shower before a freeing dance practice, finally feeling like I could breathe all the way down.
Then my phone rang.
My mother had been rushed into emergency surgery. She would never wake up.
I was leaving the next morning anyway, but now everything had changed.
My body went straight into fight-or-flight.
When CARE Meets Crisis
Here's what I almost did: shut down, isolate, not "burden" anyone with my crisis. Make the weekend about everyone else. Protect their hard-earned retreat energy.
That's the nurse override pattern. Even in crisis.
But my roommate noticed.
We'd gotten close over the weekend. She'd shared losing her son in his 20s to cancer, the ongoing pain of trying to maintain a connection with her granddaughter despite family conflict. She knew grief. She knew loss.
She held space for me.
She let me share my fears and tears. She didn't try to fix it. She was just there.
The retreat leader held space too.
She understood what I needed, not solutions, just presence. Not as a former nurse manager trying to fix the system. Just as someone who'd walked this path and knew that sometimes you just need someone to witness your drowning.
They became my anchor when I was suffocating.
They didn't solve anything. They didn't take my pain away.
They just helped me:
- Acknowledge I was drowning
- Interrupt my instinct to isolate and push through alone
- Restore enough to function
Not healed. Not okay. But able to move forward.
Just like my sister had done with that walk. But this time, I was beginning to recognize the pattern.
5 AM Arizona Time
I snuck out at 5 am under the stars to call my husband.
He held me as I fell apart in the dark, three time zones away but completely present. I shared the mess. I cried. I raged. I broke. And then I could reset.
Functional enough to travel. To get home. To be with my sisters. To hold my mother's hand one last time.
What I Learned That Night
CARE practices gave me capacity.
Those days of deep Compassion, Awareness, Restoration, and Embodiment before the call meant I had something to draw from when crisis hit. Without that week rebuilding my depleted system, I would have completely shattered.
A.I.R. got me through the crisis.
My roommate, the retreat leader, and my husband, they were my lifeline when I was suffocating. Just like my sister had been with that simple walk. I couldn't have done it alone either time.
Immersive experiences aren't a luxury; they're essential.
That week-long retreat wasn't a "nice to have." It rebuilt the capacity I'd been running on empty for years. We need to make these experiences a priority, not a "someday when I can afford it."
But we can't only rely on retreats.
Most of us can't take a week off every month. We need practices that work on Tuesday at 2 pm between patients, in our cars after a 12-hour shift, and at 5 am before the kids wake up.
We need both.
What This Means for You
Here's what I'm sharing with you in Coming Up for AIR:
The practices that sustain me. The A.I.R. tools that got me through my sister's intervention, through Sedona, and through every crisis since.
The CARE framework that builds the capacity we need when we're already depleted.
Not once-a-year retreat magic (though we desperately need those too).
Daily practices that work in real nurse life. In 5 minutes between patients. In your car after a 12-hour shift. At 5 am, before your world wakes up.
My Vision
To build the support system we actually need, not just once a year at a retreat, but every single day.
It starts with working closely 1:1 with nurses experiencing burnout - because each person's experience and challenges are so unique. What a regulation looks like for a night-shift ICU nurse is completely different from that of a day-shift pre-op nurse. We need personalized support that meets you exactly where you are.
From there, a community where nurses practice A.I.R. and CARE together. Where "I need support" gets immediate response, where we don't have to white-knuckle this alone.
Like what that ICU nurse manager built, but accessible every day, not just once a year.
Because my sister didn't have special training. My roommate didn't either. The retreat leader wasn't doing a formal intervention. They just noticed I was drowning and didn't let me isolate.
That's A.I.R. in action.
That's what I want to build with you.
For now, I'm sharing what sustains me through this newsletter. The practices I use. The frameworks that work. The real, messy, unpolished truth about staying regulated in a profession that demands everything.
You're here because you need to breathe. So do I.
Let's practice together.
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Diane, BSN, RN, RYT-200,
Founder, Barely Balanced Nurses, 30+ years at bedside nursing, advanced training in nervous system regulation, mental health & wellness, burnout resiliency, menopause, and grief
