Surging and Sinking: How to Balance Your Nervous System’s Highs and Lows
Perhaps.... We are not moody.
Perhaps.... We are stuck cycling.
Let's start with a little reframe, shall we?
What if you're not moody? What if you're not unpredictable, or flaky, or "too much", or one of those people who just self-destructs every few months for fun?
What if you're simply cycling the stress response?
You know the pattern. You get a burst of energy and suddenly you're reorganising the pantry, starting three new projects, saying yes to everything and replying to emails at 11pm. You feel amazing. Unstoppable, even.
Then, almost out of nowhere, the bottom drops out. You're flat. Foggy. The couch has you in a headlock and the projects sit there staring at you like disappointed relatives.
Up. Down. Go. Stop. Go. Stop.
If that sounds familiar, pop the kettle on and stay with me, because I've got a theory. It might sound a bit out there at first, but I promise it lands somewhere really practical.
Where it might begin: stop, start, stop, start
Think back. Way back. Before your first word, your first step, your first cuddle.
Think about birth.
For most of us, our very first big journey happened through contractions. Squeeze, release. Squeeze, release. Hours of it, sometimes days. A tiny body being pushed forward in waves, with no say in the matter and no idea when it would end.
Stop. Start. Stop. Start.
Here's my wondering. What if that rhythm becomes one of our earliest blueprints for how life moves? A pattern of surge and pause, pressure and relief. And what if, for some of us, it got tangled up with a sense of panic? That feeling of "something's happening to me and I can't control it".
Now, I want to be really honest with you here. This is a theory, a lens to look through, not a proven fact. Nobody can scan your brain and say "ah yes, that's your birth contractions, right there". But as a way of understanding the stop-start pattern so many of us live in, I find it incredibly useful.
And as you'll see, there's some solid science sitting right alongside it.
The psychology behind the see-saw
I'm not the first person to wonder about birth. Back in 1924, psychoanalyst Otto Rank wrote The Trauma of Birth, suggesting our first experience of separation and pressure leaves an emotional imprint.
Later, psychiatrist Stanislav Grof mapped out what he called "perinatal" stages, linking the phases of labour to patterns in our adult psyche. Both ideas are still debated, and mainstream science hasn't proven them. But they've inspired plenty of reflection.
What is well supported is that our earliest experiences shape our stress system.
Research shows that stress before birth and in early life can influence how our HPA axis (the body's stress hormone system) responds for years to come. We don't arrive as blank slates. Our nervous system starts learning from day one, maybe even before.
Here are a few other ideas that help explain the see-saw.
The stress cycle needs completing.
In their book Burnout, Emily and Amelia Nagoski explain that the stress response is meant to have a beginning, a middle and an end. Our bodies are built to rev up, deal with the threat, then come back down and feel safe again. The trouble is, modern life rarely gives us that ending. We just stack one stress on top of the next.
The window of tolerance. Psychiatrist Dan Siegel describes a zone where we can feel big feelings and still think clearly. Above it, we tip into hyperarousal: anxious, wired, racing. Below it, we drop into hypoarousal: flat, numb, shut down. Sound familiar? That's the upswing and the downswing.
Allostatic load. Neuroscientist Bruce McEwen called it the "wear and tear" from being switched on too often for too long. Each spike costs us a little, and the crashes are often the body's way of sending the bill.
Boom and bust. People living with chronic fatigue and chronic pain often get taught about this cycle. You overdo it on a good day, crash for three, and then overdo it again the moment you feel better. It's not a character flaw. It's a pattern.
Put all that together and you get a picture. Your upswings aren't pure joy and your downswings aren't laziness. Underneath, your nervous system is surging and braking, surging and braking, and it never gets the chance to truly rest.
That's the real cost. A nervous system that's always cycling is a nervous system that never fully lands in rest, digest and repair mode.
Quick quiz: are you on the see-saw?
Grab a pen and give yourself 1 point for every "yep, that's me".
I tend to start things with a huge burst of energy, then lose steam.
When I feel good, I cram as much in as I possibly can.
After a big productive stretch, I usually crash.
I find it hard to just sit and do nothing, even when I'm tired.
My energy feels more like a rollercoaster than a gentle wave.
People have called me "all or nothing".
I often feel wired and exhausted at the same time.
Rest makes me feel guilty or restless.
I get a buzz from deadlines, chaos or last-minute rushes.
When I'm flat, even small tasks feel like climbing a mountain.
0–3 points: Gentle waves. You've got a fairly steady rhythm. The practice below can still help you stay that way when life gets bumpy.
4–6 points: Bumpy ride. The see-saw is definitely running in the background. Noticing it is half the work, so you're already on your way.
7–10 points: Full-blown see-saw. Your nervous system is working overtime. Be gentle with yourself. This isn't a flaw in you, it's a pattern, and patterns can change.
A quick but important note: this quiz is for reflection, not diagnosis. If your highs and lows feel extreme, last for days or weeks, or are affecting your relationships, sleep or work, please chat with your GP or a mental health professional. Big mood swings can sometimes have medical causes that deserve proper support.
The practice: balancing the swing
So what do we actually do about it?
The good news is the solution is simple. The not-so-convenient news is that simple doesn't mean easy. This takes conscious effort and practice, like learning to ride a bike or ride a horse. The whole idea is this: meet each swing with its opposite. When you're surging, add stillness. When you're sinking, add gentle, steady movement.
On the upswing: be still
You'll know you're on an upswing when you feel that buzzy, slightly frantic energy. Thoughts racing, a long to-do list, maybe a little voice saying "quick, do it all now before the feeling goes".
That's exactly when to stop.
Sit down for 20–30 minutes and be still. You might meditate, or simply rest your attention on your breath. Let your exhale be a little longer than your inhale, as slow, extended breathing is one of the most direct ways to signal safety to your nervous system.
You're not killing the good energy. You're taking the panic out of it. Once you've settled, you can ride that upswing from a calm, clear place, rather than letting nervous energy drive the car.
On the downswing: move methodically
You'll know you're on a downswing when everything feels heavy and you'd rather stare at the ceiling than lift a finger.
This is when you grab a pen and write down 10 simple acts you can do. Think small and doable:
Make your bed
Wash ten dishes
Water the garden
Feed the animals
Fold one basket of washing
Take a short walk to the letterbox and back
Then do them one by one, slowly and methodically. Here's the magic bit: be present with each one. Feel the warm water on your hands. Notice the weight of the watering can. Breathe into your belly as you move. Tick each one off as you go.
You're not trying to be productive. You're giving your nervous system steady, rhythmic, safe movement, gently lifting it back into your window of tolerance without the frantic surge.
Noticing is everything
None of this works unless you notice where you are. So start by simply checking in a few times a day: Am I surging, sinking, or somewhere steady? No judgement, just curiosity. Over time, you'll catch the swings earlier, and they'll get softer.
Getting off the see-saw
Here's what I really want you to take away.
You are not broken. You are not "too much" or "not enough". You're a beautiful human with a nervous system that learned, maybe very early on, to move through life in surges and pauses.
But what's learned can be gently unlearned.
When we observe the swing instead of being swept up in it, and when we balance the emotion fuelling it from behind with the practice of presence, something shifts. The highs become calmer and clearer. The lows become softer and shorter. And somewhere in the middle, we find a still point we didn't know was there.
Maybe that's how we finally get off the see-saw? Not by forcing it to stop, but by learning to stand steady in the middle.
Give it a go this week, and let me know how you travel. I'd love to hear what you notice.
With love,
Elaya-Jane
Would you like to work with me? Consider forntightly alignment sessions so that we can tackle one pattern or program at a time, 2 weeks apart. Let's not overwhelm an already stressed out nervous system, let's work with it and clear what doesnt serve you, slowly and methodically:
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