Storm Watching: Why Some of Us Feel Calmer When the Sky Gets Wild
When storms bring joy.
Some find peace in an Ohio thunderstorm. Find out what it could say about you.
Not everybody dreads a storm rolling in. Some of us actually perk up a little. We snuggle up on the couch, read a book, go quiet in a good way, maybe step outside and watch the lightning show. All the while feeling something in our chest loosen instead of tighten.
If that's you, I don't think you're weird for it, I’m actually the same way. I think there's something real going on in your nervous system, and it's worth understanding.
Storms can be a "glimmer." In this field we talk a lot about triggers — the small things that tip us into stress or fear. Less talked about are glimmers: the small things that tip us the other direction, into a felt sense of safety or joy. These could be things like hearing your favorite song, a child’s laugh, a favorite sweater or a sweet treat. For a lot of people it’s a good storm— the low rumble of thunder, the smell of rain, the way the clouds light up with lightning and the sky changes.
Why a storm may be calming instead of alarming. I know, I know you might be thinking: “I just like storms! It’s not that deep”. And maybe, maybe not. But a few things could be going on:
Predictable intensity. A storm is big, sensory, and dramatic — but it's also familiar. You've been through plenty of them. Your body already implicitly knows how they’re going to work: it builds, it peaks, it passes. That predictability can actually be more regulating than a quiet day where you're bracing for something unknown.
Give up control. For many anxious souls a storm is something so vastly out of their control- they have no choice but to relax. A sense of something bigger than you. For many, it’s something spiritual or even religious. Such as “thunder is just angels bowling”, a reassurance given to me when I was younger.
Permission to slow down. A storm outside often means an "excuse" to stop — to sit still, dim the lights, not be productive for a minute. That forced pause can feel like relief, especially if your nervous system rarely gets permission to downshift otherwise.
Rhythmic, whole-body input. Thunder, steady rain, wind — these are rhythmic sounds, and rhythm tends to be soothing to the nervous system the same way a heartbeat or rocking motion is. It's sensory input the body can settle into.
Association. Sometimes it's simpler than any of that. A storm might just remind you, on some subconscious level, of a specific safe memory. A porch. A parent's voice. A blanket fort. The nervous system holds onto that pairing long after you've forgotten where it came from.
Why is this worth noticing? Glimmers matter because they're evidence of the good all around us. They are proof your nervous system already knows how to find peace, on its own, without being taught. The goal isn't to manufacture more storms. It's to get curious about what a storm is doing for you at that moment, so you can recognize the ingredients elsewhere: rhythm, permission to pause, predictable sensory input. Once you know what's actually soothing you, you can look for smaller versions of it on an ordinary day.
So if you catch yourself getting quietly happy about a storm rolling through Ohio this week, that's worth paying attention to, not explaining away. Your nervous system is telling you something about what safety feels like for you.
Curious what your own glimmers might be, or want support building more calm into your everyday? I'd love to talk. Reach out here.
What an Ohio Thunderstorm (or Tornado) Can Teach Us About Riding Out Anxiety
It’s been an absolutely wild week of storms in Ohio; from an actual tornado, a car flipping over on the freeway, downed power lines and power outages to flooded streets, fallen trees, and side-ways rain. There has been a constant humidity and often a rumble of thunder in the distance. Despite my usual love of thunderstorms- it’s been a lot. But after each little round of storms the sun has been popping back up again and I’ve seen our community come together for clean up.
I think of this pattern a lot in my work, becaus it so closely mirrors what the pattern of anxiety can feel like.
The build up. Sometimes it’s sudden- with no warning and other times it’s constantly churning underneath; you know it’s coming, it’s just a matter of when. In ourselves it can feel like a slight “something is off feeling”, a tight chest, an increase in snappy responses. For children it can be a change in appetite, a refusal to go to school or engage in activity- or also that increase in snappy responses! Either way, we sometimes write these signs off because nothing “big” has happened yet.
Then the storm hits. Then it happens and it’s loud (even if just internally). Thoughts racing, heart pounding, tears, a full shutdown or meltdown depending on the person. In the middle of it all it can feel scary, like it’s not going to end and you’re unsure of what to do or how to stop it. Like this is the new weather forever.
It passes. But an anxiety storm will end, every time. Just like an Ohio storm, it can be dramatic, but even in a week like this one- it has to end. Our nervous systems work the same way. The spike is real and intense but it’s also biologically only temporary. We can’t sustain at that level forever.
The Aftermath. Sometimes there is destruction in the wake; hurt feelings, a thrown object or a tear stained face. Sometimes you may look around and never realize it had just been storming. When you get to the other side there is such relief and almost clarity about it. Not because the anxiety storm itself was good, but because it reminds you the sky can clear, you can come back to safety. That is always worth remembering the next time you are in the midst of a storm, whether it’s your own or your kids. You know you’ve been through this before and just like these Ohio storms- it passes.
A few things that help while you're waiting out the “storm”.
Naming it out loud. -"This is a wave, it's going to peak and then it's going to come back down". This works wonders by labeling it and reassuring it’s not forever, especially for kids.
Slow, Deep Breaths. - Breathe in and count to 4, then out and count to 4. This helps stop the fight or flight response that is anxiety. It sends oxygen to the brain, slows your heart-rate and the storm.
Don’t fight it. - Once you are this deep in- it’s happening you can’t fight it. Trying to rationalize, deny it or give consequences will only make it feel longer. Riding it out with these strategies helps get you or your loved one to the other side.
None of this makes the anxiety storm fun. But it might make it a little less scary to know that the sky always, always clears.
If storms — the emotional kind or the actual kind, have been rolling through your house more than usual lately, I'd love to help you and your family find some calmer ground. Reach out here.