104 The Stages of Recovery: Part 1, The Moratorium 

Summary

What happens when a sudden injury, a frustrating diagnosis, or the simple reality of aging brings your world to a halt? This episode kicks off our 5-part series, "The Blueprint for Your Mind," by tackling the first and most overwhelming stage of psychological recovery: The Moratorium. Whether you've been sidelined by a catastrophic health event, a season-ending injury, or a discouraging setback, host Jan Carter breaks down the science behind why you feel numb, lost, and unable to think about the future. This isn't a sign of weakness; it's a predictable survival response. We’ll give you a practical, first-aid kit for the soul and show you not how to get better, but how to simply get through the storm.

Cold Open

Our show is all about providing 'The Blueprint for Your Comeback.' But a comeback isn't just a physical process. Before you can rebuild your body, you have to steady your mind. So for the next five episodes, we are focusing on the most critical part of the foundation: we're building the blueprint for your mind.

And the reason I'm so genuinely passionate about this, the reason we're dedicating five full episodes to it, is because this is the blueprint I wish someone had given me.

When I was going through my own health crisis, no one ever explained any of this to me. I had no map. I didn't understand what was happening to my mind, to my motivation, or to my sense of self. I just followed the lead of my doctors, focusing on the physical. But honestly? My mind was in a fog, and that lack of understanding was terrifying.

It was only thanks to my own research later that I found this five-stage framework, and it was a revelation. It showed me that what I went through wasn't random chaos—it was a predictable, normal process. And I truly believe that if I had known that back then, it would have taken so much of the fear out of the journey. Just to be able to understand what was going on... to know that it was perfectly normal... to have a sense of what I could actually do in each stage, and how to recognize when I was making progress... that would have changed everything.

So, that's what I want to give to you in this series. The map I wish I'd had.

We're going to walk through the five scientifically recognized stages of psychological recovery:

• First, the stage we're covering today: The Moratorium, which is the initial shock and standstill.

• Then, we'll move to Awareness, where the first glimmer of hope appears.

• Next is Preparation, where you start building the tools for your comeback.

• That’s followed by Rebuilding, the hard work of forging a new identity.

• And finally, we'll arrive at Growth, where you learn to thrive in your new reality.

Today, we start at the beginning, in the fog of Stage One: The Moratorium.

(Short musical transition)

Myth Buster Minute

JAN CARTER: The myth we need to tackle today is the voice in your head that says: "I'm an athlete, I should be tougher than this." Or, "It's just a part of getting older, I should just suck it up."

Here is the truth: Your mind doesn't distinguish between the source of the trauma; it just knows that a core part of your identity has been threatened. Grieving that loss isn't weakness. It is a necessary part of the healing process. So, if you feel broken right now, congratulations. You're not in denial. You're human.

(Short musical transition)

Segment 1: The Science - Your Brain on Crisis

JAN CARTER: So what is actually happening in those first days or weeks? A major health event is a threat, and your brain’s ancient security system—the fight, flight, or freeze response—goes into overdrive. Your CEO is sent home.

This isn't a metaphor; it's neurobiology. And it explains that cognitive fog, that inability to "think straight." It’s a functional impairment, and it can be terrifying because you don't even realize the extent of it while it's happening.

I had my own experience with this when I sat down with my hematologist for the second time. My wife was with me. I greeted the doctor with a big smile, asked how she was doing. We'd met just after I was first diagnosed, and she had explained the anticoagulants I needed to take.

She asked if I'd had any tightness in my chest or difficulty breathing since we last met. I confidently said, "No, I have not."

Then my wife put her hand on my knee and asked, quizzically, "What about when you stand up, and often have to pause to catch your breath, or when you are talking you often hold your ribs and gasp for air?"

Now, I'm a pretty optimistic person, and normally I’d just chalk that up to different perspectives. But I genuinely could not remember this. Until my wife explicitly called it out, the memory wasn't there. Even then, it felt dim, like a story someone had told me, not something I had experienced first-hand.

(PAUSE)

That is the brain fog in action. It’s a direct result of your brain trying to protect you. So you have this biological 'freeze' happening, this neurological shutdown.

And at the exact same time, you're dealing with a profound emotional response. The best way to understand that emotional landscape is through the lens of grief. Now, many of you have probably heard of the five stages of grief—Denial, Anger, Bargaining, and so on. Those feelings are absolutely a huge part of what's happening.

Think of the Moratorium as the larger 'container.' It's the overall state of shock that holds both the biological brain fog and the classic emotional stages of grieving the life and the body you've lost. They're happening at the same time.

So if your brain is offline and you're drowning in these feelings, what can you possibly do?

(Musical transition)

Segment 2: The Action - Your Survival Kit

JAN CARTER: The goal in the Moratorium is not to get better. It’s to survive. So let's build a real, practical survival kit.

But before we do, it's really important to say that this Moratorium stage... it doesn’t look or feel the same for everyone. Your personal experience of this—how deep it feels, how long it lasts—is shaped by a few key factors.

First, there's the Nature of the Onset. A sudden, traumatic event like a car accident or a heart attack triggers a state of acute shock. The Moratorium is often deeper because you had zero time to prepare. A slow, creeping diagnosis brings a different kind of pain, more like a long, agonizing period of dread.

Next is the Prognosis and the level of Uncertainty. This is a huge amplifier. An injury with a clear timeline is one thing. But when the prognosis is uncertain, when doctors say "we're not sure," that fear of the unknown can be paralyzing and make the Moratorium much longer and more terrifying.

Then, there’s Identity Entanglement. Simply put: how much of you was tied up in the physical ability you just lost? For someone whose identity is built around being an athlete, a physical setback is an existential crisis. It’s not just a loss of health; it's a loss of self. And that makes the grief profound.

And finally, your Support System and your Past Experience with Adversity. These are your shock absorbers. If you're isolated, that loneliness will pour fuel on the fire. But if you have a strong support system, it’s like having a safety net. Similarly, if you've been through tough times before, you have a kind of "resilience muscle" that has a memory, a faint whisper that you can survive this.

So wherever you fall on that spectrum, please know that your experience is valid. These next tools are designed to help you survive the storm, no matter how strong the winds are for you personally.

Alright, our first strategy is something called Radical Self-Compassion.

And I know, that might sound a little soft. But this is probably the most practical, most powerful tool you have right now. Think about it this way: If your best friend was going through this, what would you say? You'd never say, "Suck it up." You'd listen. Self-compassion is just… turning that inward.

And here's the "why"—this is biology. When you beat yourself up, your body releases more stress hormones. It makes the physical problem worse. When you practice self-compassion, it actually flips a switch in your nervous system. It calms you down. It creates the physical state your body needs to heal.

So, how do we do it? Three simple things.

• First... Name It to Tame It. When the emotion hits, just say the words. Out loud. "This is grief."

• Second... Put your hand on your heart. The physical touch is important. And just say, "This is a moment of suffering. It's okay. I'm going to be kind to myself right now."

• And third... Lower the bar. To the floor. Seriously. If you got out of bed today? That is a win. You made it through this day? That is a victory. Period.

(Short musical pause)

Okay, strategy number two: Create a Safe Harbor.

This means you have to simplify your world. Radically. Your brain has no capacity for complex decisions right now. Every little choice drains your battery, and your battery is at 1%. Creating a safe harbor is about conserving every last bit of that energy.

How do we do it?

• First, put your life on autopilot. Think less. Eat the same simple breakfast. Put your pills in an organizer. Make your world predictable.

• Second, get it out of your head. Your brain is not a reliable hard drive right now. Get a whiteboard or a notepad. Write down your next appointment. Get it onto the page.

• And third, have an escape plan for panic. The 5-4-3-2-1 technique is it. Stop. Name 5 things you can see, 4 things you can feel, 3 you can hear, 2 you can smell, 1 you can taste. It yanks your brain out of the "what if" spiral and back into the real world.

And you'll need it. Because your new reality... it will ambush you when you least expect it.

I remember this so clearly. It was a few weeks later and I had been inactive that whole time. Walking to the end of the block and back once a day was the most I could manage. My family was heading to the beach, and my wife had packed a chair for me to sit on so I could join them, but just stay put. The kids ran out the door, finally after they had found their shoes and carried their bags out with them, and my wife was in the car waiting. I was about to lock up when I realized I’d forgotten my sunglasses. They were upstairs on my bedside table.

With a sigh, I forced myself to jog up the stairs to not keep everyone waiting. It was one flight of stairs.

As I reached the top, I grabbed hold of the handrail, gasping to catch my breath. It was like I'd climbed a mountain. The exhaustion from that short burst was overwhelming. I knew I used to run up these very stairs easily. Every day the sound of my kids thumping their way upstairs many times a day constantly reminded me that this was supposed to be easy. But, in that moment, panting at the top of the landing, I was not sure whether I would ever be able to do this again.

.

(Short musical pause)

That feeling of isolation is brutal. Which brings us to the final, and maybe the most important strategy: Borrow Hope.

Let's be honest. Your own well of hope is dry right now. And that's okay. So, you have to find an external source. It’s like your phone is dead... you need to plug into someone else’s portable charger for a while. The "why" is simple. Connection makes us feel safe. And that feeling of safety… that's what tells your brain's CEO it's okay to come back to the office.

But here’s how to do it right.

• First, find your one person. The person who is a calm, steady presence.

• Second, you have to give them the script. This is the game-changer. People want to help, but they don't know how. Tell them what you need. Send a text: "Hey. I'm going through it. I don't need advice. What I really need is for you to just [check in with a text / come sit with me for a bit]." You need to borrow their calm, not their opinions.

(Musical Transition)

Conclusion

JAN CARTER: Self-compassion. A safe harbor. Borrowed hope. These are not steps to get better. They are the tools to simply get through. Holding on until the fog begins to lift. And I promise you… it will lift.

Which brings us to Stage Two: 'Awareness.' It's the turning point. In next week's episode, we'll talk about the science of hope and the practical things you can do to find that first, tiny, fragile spark. Make sure you're subscribed so you don't miss Part Two of the Blueprint.

And now, for Your Next Small Step.

This week, the next time that wave of anger, or fear, or sadness washes over you, don’t fight it. Pause. And say one of these three sentences out loud: "This is a normal part of the process." "I am allowed to feel this way." Or simply, "This is hard." That’s your only job this week.

I’m Jan Carter. And this is Second Wind.

Comeback corner

"We've been talking about the theory of the Moratorium—that state of shock, of denial, of your brain protecting you from a reality that's too heavy to hold. But what does that actually feel like in a life-or-death moment?

That brings us to this week's Comeback Corner.

We're going to hear from a listener named Trevor. Trevor was a lifelong long-distance runner, a musician in a band—his entire life was intensely physical. And then one day, on a routine run, it all stopped.

His story is a powerful, honest account of being so deep inside the fog of the Moratorium that you can't even recognize when a visitor comes to your hospital room to ask if you need to get your life in order. It's about that one, chilling moment when the denial finally shatters.

This is what the Moratorium is really like. Here's Trevor, in his own words."