How to Calm Anxiety During a Storm: Nervous System Support When Everything Feels Uncertain

The Storm Outside, the Storm Inside

A storm is coming. It’s supposed to be huge.

The grocery stores are packed. From our window, we’re watching a line of cars that wraps around three blocks — headlights, brake lights, beeping, that restless energy people get

when the weather shifts into something bigger.

And even if you’re safe at home right now, your body might not feel safe.

Storm anxiety is real. You’re not dramatic. You’re not fragile. You’re human.

If you’re trying to calm anxiety during a storm, it helps to know that what you’re feeling isn’t an overreaction — it’s your nervous system responding to uncertainty.

When Uncertainty Hits the Nervous System First

For me, this storm hits differently because we’re supposed to leave for a work trip on Monday morning — driving. Literally from the storm, through the storm, and into more storm. It’s not feasible. It needs to be pushed back.

But we also have an important appointment Wednesday morning for my daughter — the kind of appointment you call in a million favors to get. We can’t miss it.

So my mind is doing what minds do under pressure: racing, scanning, trying to solve everything at once.

The Memory Storms Bring Back

I lived through Hurricane Sandy in Downtown Manhattan. My building was in Zone A — right by the water, directly impacted. We lost power. The building flooded. We were out of our building for 31 or 32 days. FEMA was involved. We needed alternative housing. We had hotel vouchers.

We couldn’t work at the time because our office was closed due to the storm — we had support. Being commission-based then, the storm meant I couldn’t work—deals slipped away, and the office remained out of reach for everyone. And I want to emphasize this clearly: we were incredibly lucky.

So many people don’t get that kind of help. Storms are often treated as “acts of God” by insurance, and people lose everything and are left to figure it out alone.

That reality stays in your body.

This Is a Storm, Not a Failure

If you’re wondering, dear reader, why would it be a failure?

Because storms trigger a particular kind of pressure in people — a storyline that sounds like:

If I don’t prepare perfectly, I’m doing it wrong.

If I’m anxious, I’m not handling life.

If I can’t control outcomes, I’m failing my family.

But the truth is simpler: conditions are intense. And your nervous system is responding.

So we say:

This is a storm, not a failure.

I can huddle, breathe, and take the next small step.

Nothing about this moment means you’re behind. It means conditions are intense.

The Vagus Nerve, Simply Explained

The vagus nerve is part of why storms feel like this in the body. It helps regulate things like heart rate, breathing, digestion — and it plays a role in helping the body shift out of stress mode when things feel safer.

When your chest tightens or your throat feels squeezed, that’s not you being dramatic. That’s your nervous system doing its job: scanning for threat, preparing for what might happen next.

Nervous system regulation isn’t about forcing calm. It’s about giving your body cues that say: we’re here, we’re breathing, we’re okay enough in this moment.

The Seal Song

Humming works immediately for me — I feel it in my chest.

I call it the seal song, inspired by penguins, who rely heavily on vocal calls to stay connected and oriented in loud, chaotic, and harsh environments. When visibility drops and conditions become overwhelming, sound becomes a way to locate one another and maintain connection.

For humans, humming works a little differently — but just as practically. Gentle humming creates vibration in the throat and naturally lengthens the exhale, both of which are associated with parasympathetic nervous system activity. In simple terms, it gives the body a cue that it can ease out of high alert. You’re not forcing calm. You’re offering your nervous system a steady signal: I’m here. I’m breathing. I’m okay enough right now.

If you want a simple way to try it: inhale slowly through your nose, then exhale with a soft hum. Do three rounds. Let it be small. Let it count.

Why It’s So Hard to Calm Anxiety During a Storm

Rest is hard when your brain thinks survival is on the to-do list.

There’s no real rest until you know you have what your child needs. There’s no relaxing when your mind is running scenarios: Do we have enough? What if we lose power? What if we can’t get out? What if we can’t get to the appointment?

And people mean well, but the advice can feel dismissive: “Just prepare and then watch a movie.” “Make it cozy.” “Have a snow day.”

If your nervous system is activated, that kind of advice doesn’t land. What lands is enoughness — the steadiness that comes from knowing you’ve handled the basics you can handle.

So if you can’t rest yet, it makes sense. Your system is trying to keep your world intact.

The Only Question That Matters Right Now

When anxiety spikes, your mind tries to do everything at once.

Try bringing it down to one honest question:

What do I need to feel okay enough for the next few hours?

That answer might be practical: water filled, devices charged, food that doesn’t need cooking, diapers/wipes, warmth layers, a plan if the power goes out.

It might also be physical: a hum, a longer exhale, a shake-out, a few minutes in the car to cry, a scream into a pillow.

Sometimes support looks like letting the fear move through you instead of arguing with it.

Let’s Do Our Part: Checking on Neighbors

Storms are also a reminder to look outward. Check on neighbors — especially the vulnerable.

I learned this the hard way: instead of asking “Do you need help?” ask direct questions.

“Do you have water?”

“Do you have bread or easy food if the power goes out?”

“Do you have batteries or a flashlight?”

“Do you have your medications?”

“Do you have enough diapers, wipes, formula?”

And if you can, offer something specific.

“I’m going out to the store — I can grab you 2 gallons of water and a loaf of bread. Would that be helpful?”

I once handed my elderly neighbor my own coffee. It was actually my cup of coffee — but she needed it more, so I handed it over with a smile. She wasn’t even a nice neighbor. But in times of need, we show up without judgment.

Closing

Storms can stir up fear that feels ancient in the body. If you’ve lived through something like Sandy — or any moment where the ground shifted under your life — it makes sense that your nervous system remembers.

Your feelings are valid.

Prepare what you can. Check on your people. Do the next small step.

And then, as best you can, let the rest be the rest.

This is a storm, not a failure.

I can huddle, breathe, and take the next small step.