Reflections on Crisis

There is an inner and an outer crisis. Sometimes it starts from within—a quiet discomfort, a growing dissonance that begins to affect your outer world. Other times, it begins with an outer event—like a divorce, the loss of a job, a health issue, or an accident—so powerful that it shakes you to your core, turning your entire inner world upside down. Either way, the journey into crisis is a journey inward.

I’ve experienced both. More than once.

Let me say this upfront: I’m still learning myself. I’m not here to teach you anything. That’s not why I’m writing this. I’m writing because I want you to know:

• You are not alone.

• You are not a failure.

• This pain shall pass.

• You are going to be okay.

My Story of Crisis

Everything changed early in my life. My father died in an avalanche while on a ski weekend. He and his friends got caught in heavy snow. While waiting for help, they took a photo of themselves—hugging, smiling. Minutes later, back in the car, an avalanche wiped them out.

I was three and a half. My mother was 23 and pregnant with my sister.

That loss set the tone for much of my early life. My childhood was marked by abandonment, constant moves, instability, and the absence of emotional safety. I grew up too fast, too soon, and took on responsibilities that were not mine to carry.

My teenage years carried the same weight of absence and pain. I felt I was on my own.

At 20, I left Italy and moved to study at a college in Germany. By 23, I was diagnosed with depression. My family doctor feared I might be at risk of suicide and had me admitted to a psychiatric clinic, where I stayed for three months.

Strangely, I have good memories of that time. I felt people were taking care of me, and that was exactly what I needed right then. I learned how to recognize depression and how to move through it. When I came out of the hospital, I found deep friendships, a job in a café that became my second home, and a sense of belonging. My life began to turn around.

But crisis would return. After all, my healing journey had just begun.

After college, I spent years wandering—geographically, emotionally, spiritually. I had the courage to make bold choices and carve my path through the world. But it felt lonely. I had no nest to return to, and that was the most frightening part. So I kept searching for a “home.”

As if following an unconscious script, I ended up in the worst “romantic” relationships. I was repeating my childhood trauma over and over again. I didn’t love myself enough. I had abandonment wounds. I didn’t know how to receive love, so I kept finding partners who reflected those wounds right back at me.

I couldn’t find a job that fulfilled me either. If I happened to like it, it was always a consuming role that sent me traveling around the world, living out of hotel rooms—unrooting me more and more. And if it was a stable 9-to-5 office job, I felt like I was suffocating. I was agonizing. Every part of me felt out of place.

The truth is, I was a mess. I had lost all sense of direction. I went from country to country, from job to job, from dysfunctional relationship to dysfunctional relationship. I couldn't seem to find stability—neither in work, love, nor even a home. There was no anchor inside of me. I kept searching outward, and life was teaching me the hard way.

In all this chaos, though, a voice inside me kept growing louder, whispering: "Help others." I felt a strong calling. I felt drawn to do something meaningful with my life—something deeper and purposeful. I knew I had a deep intuition and the emotional capacity to hold others in a profound way. I could see through people. I knew they trusted me quickly and opened up deeply with me. I knew I had so much love to give. But how could I help others if it seemed I couldn’t even help myself?

Then came the breaking point. I took a high-pressure job in a big tech company, working in crisis management. I burned out, and I started experiencing anxiety attacks. Fear took over my mind and my body. It was terrifying. 

One day, after six months on the job, I walked into the office and quit. I hadn’t planned it—I just knew I had to leave. Thank God I did. 

That decision was a true act of self-love. And it led me to a spiritual journey. Four months later, I was on a plane headed to India—the trip that changed everything for me.

There has always been a courageous warrior inside me. Somehow, I have always bounced back. But I was stuck in a loop—constantly trying to repair my life with the wrong tools. In India, I began to recognize the source of my pain and detach my identity from my thoughts and fears. I began to see who I truly was—beyond my mental clutter, beyond my past, beyond the outer expressions of myself.

I had so much journey ahead of me, but those were big first steps. Crisis points returned after India, and they will probably keep coming—because life keeps pushing me deeper into self-discovery and growth.

I’m still on the journey, but now I have more tools—more awareness, more perspective, and a better understanding of myself than I had before.

The Turning Point

If you look up the word crisis, you’ll find it comes from the Greek krisis—meaning “decision.” A crisis is a decisive turning point. And in my life, every crisis has marked a turning.

• After the depression, I found my path of healing.

• After the burnout, I found my voice.

• After years of drifting, I found my purpose.

There is a rebirth after a crisis. That’s why the crisis comes. It is not a punishment—it’s a wake-up call. A redirection. A sacred opportunity.

A Few Things I’ve Learned Along the Way (That I Keep Repeating to Myself)

You are exactly where you are supposed to be. There is nothing wrong with you, with your life, or with this moment in time. This moment—painful, confusing, heavy—is not a mistake. It is part of your path. It is the seed of your return to your true self.

In A Return to Love, Marianne Williamson writes: "You’re on your knees? Stay there." Because even if you receive what you think you want—a new relationship, a new job, a new body—you’ll repeat the pattern and watch it all fall apart again, unless something within you changes.

Stay in the discomfort for a moment. Get to know your pain. Get to know the depths of it. Then accept this very moment—and surrender.

Crisis is like being lost in the woods. Don’t rush to get out. Sit in the dark of the woods and familiarize yourself with the landscape of your own pain. 

Recognize your shadows—your fears, your wounds, your uncomfortable truths—and the inner dialogue they’re creating in your mind.

Stay with your emotions. Let them be. Sit with them without judgment, without acting, without fixing.

Sit with yourself for a while. Only then get up and walk a different path. Only then can you create different circumstances, different experiences, a different life.

That is how you break the cycle. That is how you heal. That is how you return to yourself—instead of circling back and ending up lost in the same woods again.

Escaping the pain—numbing, resisting, coping, blaming yourself, others, life, or the Universe—has a boomerang effect. Pain grows bigger beneath the surface and eventually comes back stronger to hit you in the face.

Not to punish you—but to teach you. To show you the lesson. So you can outgrow your own limits, face your fears, and rise higher.

In The Miracle Morning, Hal Elrod writes: “The moment you accept total responsibility for everything in your life is the moment you claim the power to change anything in your life.” 

If you take full responsibility—not in a blaming way, but with radical honesty and a willingness to look inward—you step into your power. You break the illusion that you are a victim of life. You become the co-creator of your story.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. It’s painful. So seek help and be kind to yourself. You are doing the best you can to navigate your way through this beautifully messy life.

The Truth About Your Worth

Your value does not come from what you do. It is not determined by your achievements, your failures, your relationships, your job, or your status.

Your value simply is.

Crisis strips away the distractions. It removes the masks. It forces you to let go of everything that is not truly you—titles, possessions, personas… your ego—until all that remains is the truth of who you are.

And from that truth, purpose emerges.

Crisis will revisit you. And that’s okay. Through different characters, settings, and experiences—but always with profound lessons. It’s how we spiral upward in life. Each crisis brings us closer to ourselves. That’s where the alchemy of crisis resides.

These are my reflections. 

Now I turn the mirror toward you: What is your crisis telling you right now?

✨ Affirmation

Within me is the wisdom, the strength, and the light to find my way through.

✨ With Much Love - Elisa ✨