Tag: mindfulness

  • Mental Health Awareness Week: When It’s More Than a Hashtag

    Mental Health Awareness Week: When It’s More Than a Hashtag

    Mental Health Awareness Week:

    When It’s More Than a Hashtag

    I used to scroll past posts like this, Mental Health Awareness Week, kind messages, green hearts everywhere.

    And I’d think, “That’s lovely. But what does that actually do for families like mine?”

    Because when you live with mental illness in your home, when your daughter is on the edge of overwhelm, when the house swings from peace to panic in minutes, it’s not awareness you need.


    It’s support. It’s understanding. It’s a moment to exhale and admit, “This is really hard, and I don’t know what to do next.”

    That’s why I’m writing this. Not as a professional. Not as a coach or a consultant.
    But as a mum.

    Living in the Eye of the Storm

    My daughter is 22. She’s beautiful. Bright. Funny. Fierce.
    And she also lives with BPD, depression, CPTSD, panic disorder and much more…


    On her good days, she’s unstoppable.
    On her bad days, we walk through fire and storms together.

    There have been nights I’ve sat outside her bedroom door with my heart in my throat. Days where I’ve cancelled everything because I couldn’t risk leaving her alone.
    Moments where I’ve been so full of fear and helplessness I could barely breathe.

    And the truth is, it’s incredibly isolating.
    No one teaches you how to parent a child who doesn’t want to be here.
    You’re either dismissed with leaflets and waitlists, or told to be “strong” and “calm” when all you want to do is fall apart.

    The Turning Point: Chaos to Calm

    The phrase, Chaos to Calm, came to me in one of those messy moments.
    Not when things were perfect. But when I realised I could not fix her.
    All I could do was show up. Stay steady. Hold space. Listen.

    “My head feels like “Chaos”!”

    And in that shift, from reacting to responding, from rescuing to listening, we both began to breathe again.

    That’s when the idea for Chaos to Calm was born.
    Not just as a business, but as a lifeline.
    A place where other mums like me could feel seen, heard, and supported.

    Because we don’t need to be told to “stay positive”.
    We need to be handed a brew, looked in the eyes, and told:
    “You’re doing an incredible job. Even if no one else sees it.”

    Why This Week Matters

    So yes—Mental Health Awareness Week does matter.
    Not because it fixes everything. But because it gives us permission to speak.
    To raise our hands and say, “I’m not okay. And that’s okay.”

    And if you’re reading this and nodding through tears, I want you to know:

    • You’re not alone.
    • You’re not a failure.
    • You’re a mum doing her absolute best in an impossible situation.

    And that matters. It really, really does.

    Let’s Walk This Together

    If you’ve been living in the chaos, I want to offer you some calm, not as perfection, but as a practice.

    Start with one breath. One small boundary. One moment of compassion for yourself.
    That’s where healing begins.

    And if you ever need someone who understands, who’s walked the messy path and still puts the kettle on with very shaky hands and chaos in her belly, I’m here.

    From my heart to yours,
    Sami xx


    Founder of Chaos to Calm.

  • She Was Admitted for Her Safety and Still Got Hurt!

    She Was Admitted for Her Safety and Still Got Hurt!

    Chaos to Calm to Chaos

    When my daughter was admitted to a psychiatric unit in October 2024, I clung to the hope that this might be the turning point, the moment someone, somewhere, would finally help her. Friends and family reassured me: “It’s for the best.” I wanted to believe them. I needed to. But what followed wasn’t healing, it was devastation. This wasn’t a lifeline ,it was a holding bay, and she unravelled in ways I couldn’t imagine.


    This was the day I thought things would get better. I was wrong. But it’s where this blog begins…

    I’ll never forget the date: 7th October 2024

    We walked into the unit voluntarily…
    Well, as voluntarily as you can when you’re told:

    “If you don’t, we’ll have to section her.”

    She was dissociating badly. Fading in and out. I couldn’t reach her. And even though I was terrified, I thought maybe, just maybe , this would be the turning point.

    My friends thought it. Family said it too.

    “At least now she’ll get the therapy.”
    “They’ll sort her meds out.”
    “This is what she needs.

    But here’s the truth I didn’t expect:
    Psychiatric units, especially the ones you get on the NHS in a crisis, aren’t a repair shop.
    They’re a holding bay. Respite. A locked door with nurses.

    And while she was safe from ending her life… she was far from safe from hurting herself.

    Her arms, her legs, even her head, were stripped raw from relentless scratching. Like she’d come off a motorbike and skidded through gravel.
    She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even present. She just needed to feel something or nothing.

    And I?
    I sat in the car outside that place, and I sobbed.
    I’d handed over my child to a place I thought would help. And all I could think was: “Where the hell do we go now?”


    Looking back now…

    That was one of the lowest points.
    It wasn’t the beginning of our story, that came long before, but it was the day the tiny thread of hope I was clinging to… snapped.

    But if I could tell that version of me one thing, it would be this:

    You didn’t fail.
    You didn’t make the wrong call.
    You made the only one you could at the time, with the information you had.

    It’s the system that’s broken, not you.
    And certainly not her.


    If you’ve been there, if you’re in it now, just know,
    you’re not alone. And you’re not crazy for expecting more than a holding bay.

    Sometimes “safe” is a very low bar.
    And when you’re watching your child unravel, it’s nowhere near enough.

    I left that chapter shaken, angry, and more lost than ever. What I thought would be the beginning of calm turned into another layer of chaos, which scarred us both, quite literally. But this is just part of our story. I’m writing it now, not because it’s easy, but because someone else might be sitting where I was, silently screaming into the void. You’re not alone and I know I am not!

    If this resonates, or if you’re sitting in your car crying outside a unit like I did , you’re not alone. This blog is for you.


    Chaos to Calm 🧡

    Navigating the chaos of emotional dysregulation, trauma, and finding our version of calm, one storm at a time.

  • About this blog

    About this blog

    Chaos to Calm: One Storm at a Time

    Hi, I’m Sami, mum, wellness coach, and like so many others… someone who’s had to learn how to parent through emotional dysregulation, trauma, linked physical health, and the kind of heartbreak that doesn’t come with a manual.

    This blog is a space to share our story, not the shiny Instagram version, but the real, raw, stormy one. My daughter first disclosed childhood trauma when she was 14. She’s now nearly 23. In between, there have been crisis teams, hospital admissions, self-harm, misdiagnoses, waiting lists, and many, many moments where I’ve just been lost.

    This is for the parents living in that space, the ones holding it all together with coffee, Google searches, and sheer love.

    Why Chaos to Calm?

    Because that’s the journey. And it doesn’t always go in a straight line. Sometimes calm is just five minutes of peace before the next wave hits.
    Sometimes it’s a deep breath in a psych ward waiting room.
    Sometimes it’s not calm at all, just less chaos than yesterday.

    We live in storms! Emotional ones, systemic ones, the ones that arrive out of nowhere and knock you off your feet. But we also learn to become our children’s anchors, and sometimes, we have to anchor ourselves too. Not perfectly. Just enough to stay steady.

    I want this to be a space where we tell the truth about what it’s really like. The hard bits. The hopeful bits. The moments no one else talks about.

    You’ll find stories from our life, thoughts on emotional dysregulation and trauma, reflections on what helped (and what really didn’t), and maybe a few survival tips along the way.

    If any part of this sounds like your life, please know, you’re not alone.
    And if you’ve found your way here, welcome. This space is for you too.

    Sami x

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