In the days following the recent devastation in Sri Lanka, the country has entered a period marked by grief, uncertainty, and quiet resilience. Lives have been lost, homes destroyed, communities uprooted, and even familiar landmarks reshaped. As families search for loved ones, move into temporary shelters, and piece together what remains, another layer of recovery has begun beneath the surface: the emotional healing that is often less visible but equally important. The World Health Organization notes that a significant number of people affected by disasters experience ongoing emotional distress, highlighting the importance of psychological support. Working closely with individuals and families during times of crisis has shown me that emotional recovery often unfolds quietly, alongside visible rebuilding.
When disaster strikes suddenly, the human mind moves instinctively into survival mode. People act quickly, protecting children and elders, gathering belongings, seeking safety, guiding neighbours, and offering help wherever possible. In these moments, adrenaline becomes the body’s engine. Feelings are pushed aside, decisions are made rapidly, and the focus remains on survival. It is only when the danger fades and the noise settles, that many realise how deeply they have been affected. This is often the beginning of a longer recovery journey that moves from immediate survival toward emotional steadiness and a renewed sense of safety.
As the days pass, people often begin to notice changes in themselves. Some feel numb or detached, unable to process everything at once. Others experience restlessness, quick tears, or moments of panic they cannot explain. There may be difficulty sleeping, even when exhaustion is overwhelming, or a mind that keeps replaying moments of fear. Simple tasks may suddenly feel heavy. Physical sensations often echo these emotions, appearing as tight shoulders, a racing heart, or a churning stomach. These reactions are part of the body’s natural response to threat, as the nervous system stays on high alert even after the immediate danger has passed. Children often show their distress in different ways; they may cling more, fear being alone, become unusually quiet, or wake repeatedly at night. Older adults may feel disoriented by the disruption to their routines and the loss of places that held meaning. These reactions are not signs of weakness or instability. They are signs that something painful has happened to the heart and mind, and the body is trying to understand it.
From a scientific perspective, recovery after a disaster does not happen all at once, but unfolds gradually over time. International models used by the World Health Organization, the United Nations, and disaster psychology researchers emphasise that safety and stabilisation come first, followed by emotional regulation, reconnection with daily life, and, over time, meaning-making and recovery. Early, compassionate support delivered within families and communities has been shown to reduce longer-term psychological difficulties and support natural resilience.
In the earliest phase after a disaster, science emphasises psychological stabilisation rather than formal therapy. This approach, commonly known as Psychological First Aid, focuses on helping people feel safe, grounded, and supported in the immediate aftermath. Core elements include ensuring physical safety and protection from ongoing threat, gently stabilising emotional distress through simple grounding or breathing, meeting basic practical needs such as food, water, shelter, and medical care, supporting reconnection with loved ones and community, and offering clear, honest information that helps restore a sense of hope. Over time, research has shown that these simple, humane actions can make a real difference to longer-term emotional recovery.
Experiences from disaster-affected communities around the world suggest that emotional responses can vary widely in the first few weeks. Some people become more active, taking on tasks to regain a sense of control. Others withdraw, needing time to gather strength. Some feel waves of grief; others feel strangely calm. The truth is that there is no single “correct” way to react. Emotional shock, sadness, confusion, anger, fear, guilt, and even relief can coexist. For those who have lost loved ones, grief becomes layered mourning a person, a home, and a sense of normalcy all at once. Grief may appear in sudden moments: while folding clothes, during a quiet evening, or when seeing something that reminds them of life before. These emotions deserve space and compassion.
The impact of such an event extends beyond individuals to families and communities. Parents may struggle to manage their own emotions while trying to comfort their children. Adults may experience guilt for surviving when others did not. Young people may worry about their education or financial stability. Elders may mourn the loss of places that shaped their identity. Community structures like temples, schools, clinics, and meeting places have been damaged, disrupting the familiar rhythm that once held daily life together. Yet, even in hardship, the bonds that hold communities together often become stronger.
Amidst this, those who step forward to help others, medical teams, first responders, volunteers, officers, and neighbours carry their own emotional weight. Many face the same losses as everyone else, yet continue to serve, often without rest. International research on disaster response shows that helpers are at greater risk of emotional exhaustion. They may absorb the pain of those they assist and struggle with compassion fatigue as constant exposure to others’ suffering slowly drains their emotional reserves. Some may feel numb, others deeply overwhelmed, and many may have trouble sleeping after witnessing distressing scenes. Simple acts such as resting when possible, talking with peers, and setting gentle boundaries can help helpers protect their own well-being. When communities acknowledge and support those who care for others, everyone becomes stronger.
As Sri Lanka slowly moves from immediate survival toward long-term recovery, rebuilding emotional safety becomes a gentle but vital process. Emotional safety does not mean forgetting what happened; it means helping the mind and body feel steady again. Small acts can make a significant difference. Re-establishing routines, even simple ones, helps create a sense of stability. Eating at regular times, setting small daily goals, and maintaining familiar rituals, especially for children, support the nervous system’s return to equilibrium. Connection plays an enormous role as well. Talking to friends, sharing a cup of tea with a neighbour, sitting in silence beside someone, or joining in communal activities all help reduce emotional isolation. Humans are wired for connection, and in times of distress, it becomes a lifeline.
Emotions, when allowed gently into the open, can begin to move rather than remain stuck. People should feel free to express sadness, fear, anger, or uncertainty without being told to “be strong.” Holding everything inside can prolong distress. Expression can take many forms, like talking, prayer, creative outlets, writing, or simply being present with someone trusted. Offering simple words such as “I’m here and listening” can make a meaningful difference. It is equally important to limit repeated exposure to distressing information. Constantly scrolling through news or social media can heighten anxiety and make the mind relive the fear. Checking updates at intervals, rather than continuously, helps maintain balance.
Children need special attention during recovery. They understand events differently from adults and may misinterpret silence or tension around them. Gentle explanations, frequent reassurance, consistent routines, and physical closeness help them regain a sense of safety. Play helps children feel safe, connected, and emotionally regulated, making it one of the most important ways they process distress.
Relaxation practices, even very simple ones, can help ease the body’s stress response. Deep breathing, grounding techniques, stretching, or stepping outside for some fresh air help the nervous system reset. These practices need not be long or complex; repeated small moments of calm accumulate into meaningful relief.
There are times when emotions become too heavy to carry alone. If someone experiences persistent sleeplessness, overwhelming fear, intrusive memories, withdrawal from others, hopelessness, or difficulty functioning day to day, professional support can be beneficial. Seeking help is not a sign of weakness; it is a step toward healing. Early support can prevent long-term difficulties and provide coping tools.
Moving forward as a nation will require continued compassion, cooperation, and patience. Buildings will be repaired, roads restored, and communities rebuilt, but emotional recovery happens in quieter, slower ways. It grows through gentle conversations, warm community exchanges, acknowledgment of grief, and the understanding that healing does not have a fixed timeline. Sri Lankans have always demonstrated strength in unity. Families, neighbours, organisations, and volunteers have shown extraordinary kindness in recent days. These acts remind us that while the disaster altered physical landscapes, it has also revealed the depth of our collective resilience.
Healing will not look the same for everyone. Some will feel ready to return to their routines sooner, while others may need time. Some will talk openly about their experiences, while others will speak only when they feel safe. What matters is that no one faces this journey alone. When communities listen without judgment, offer support freely, and create safe spaces for emotions to be expressed, recovery becomes not only possible but shared.
In the midst of loss and uncertainty, the human heart still knows how to reach out. Sometimes healing begins in the smallest ways, a shared meal, a caring message, a neighbour’s helping hand, a child’s laughter, or a moment of quiet hope. These gentle acts reflect principles of psychological first aid used worldwide to support individuals and communities in the aftermath of sudden crises. If we continue to support one another with compassion, patience, and presence, emotional safety will be rebuilt, and recovery will take root gently, one day at a time.
The writer, Nimmi Dissanayake Udumalagala, holds an MSc in Clinical & Health Psychology (UK), a BSc in Psychology (Malaysia), advanced diplomas in CBT, DBT, and Art Therapy (UK), and a BSc (Hons) in Computer Science (UK). She can be reached at nimmiu@gmail.com
