The Rollercoaster Test

When the Thrill Is Gone (and That’s a Good Thing)

I rode a rollercoaster for the first time in over two years—
the first time since I started taking my nervous system seriously.

You’d think it would be a return to joy, right? A reunion with the rush?
Except this time, something was different.

I love rollercoasters. Always have.
The drop, the scream, the fleeting brush with surrender.
In the past, that climb up the first hill would make my pulse quicken with delicious dread—tiny trees below, the whole world falling away. My body used to flood with adrenaline, like a bright, fizzy champagne of chaos.

But this time, nothing.
No jitters. No racing heart. No edge-of-death thrill.
Just a calm, curious awareness as my body was hurled through the air.

And here’s the surprising part: I wasn’t disappointed.
Not even a little.

Because for the first time, my body didn’t mistake danger for aliveness.
My system didn’t need chaos to feel awake.

That’s not to say I didn’t feel anything.
My body still reacted to the ride itself. The g-force pressed me back into the seat, my vision flickered toward black for a moment, and I felt that familiar post-drop nausea swirl in my stomach. The physical sensations were still there—but they weren’t tethered to panic.
They were simply the body doing what bodies do under pressure: contracting, releasing, adjusting to motion and speed.

The difference was that my mind stayed steady.
There was no spike of fear, no story about danger, no subconscious need to turn the moment into a high.

For years, I lived on an emotional rollercoaster—balancing the deep valleys of heartbreak after my divorce with the dizzying highs of parties, new lovers, and the next adventure.
Adrenaline was my oxygen. I chased intensity like it was the proof that I was still alive.

But peace feels different.
At first, it can feel almost muted—like you’re missing something.
Until you realize that calm isn’t emptiness. It’s safety.

Regulation doesn’t erase sensation—it separates what’s happening in the body from the stories we’ve learned to tell about it.
And that separation is what makes intuition clear again.

When I guide clients through transitions—as a Transition Doula and intuition mentor—this is what we’re really working toward. Not the absence of emotion, but the ability to discern:
Is this my fear or my truth?
My adrenaline or my aliveness?

The real thrill now?
Feeling grounded and free.
Riding the ride without needing to hold on for dear life.

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If you’re in a season of transition—learning to steady yourself after years of emotional turbulence—I help people navigate that shift with clarity, compassion, and body-based intuition work. You can learn more about my Transition Doula sessions or join the Intuition Growth Lab for weekly practices like this one.

And if you just want to say thanks for this post, you can always buy me a cacao ☕️.