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My goodness—what can I say about all we’ve been through with this madman’s erratic words and behaviors?

And what can I say about my reactions? All the ones I didn’t want to have, and yet I was full of them.

As an intuitive life coach, I encourage people to “watch the news, but don’t allow yourself to become the toxicity of the news.”

Good advice, right? Well yesterday, I couldn’t follow my own wisdom. I just couldn’t. What was happening in the world was all too much for me.

When the man in charge of our nation threatened that “a whole civilization will die tonight” if Iran failed to meet the 8 p.m. deadline, I was devastated.

For months, I have told myself that I wasn’t going to buy into this showman’s emotional manipulation and narcissistic behaviors. I told myself I wasn’t going to let his energy pull me into unbridled fear and anxiety. I told myself I’d be courageous and call upon love, light, and joy—no matter what.

Despite my resolve, undercurrents of terror, anger, anxiety, and fear rolled into my body that night and stayed with me until his deadline the next day.

Shortly before 8 p.m., words of dubious validity gave him an out to take back his dangerous threat, and no matter what the reasons were between Iran and our leader, I could finally breathe again.

Today, I’m angry at him—but even more angry with myself.

I can’t fully blame him. I have agency. I have choices. Usually.

Not that day, I guess. I lost my way and all ability to stay calm, grounded, and centered. I usually take great care and pride with the time I spend creating my Substack publication, A Light Between the Cracks (cherylmelodybaskin.substack.com).

Its purpose is to calm people’s nervous system, including my own. When I create meditations, reflections, healing chants, or gentle pep talks, I listen for guidance from something deeper than my everyday voice.

I often hear an intuitive whisper and can feel a higher energy moving through me. Sometimes that energy becomes a calm producing podcast, a video, a thoughtful article, and sometimes it becomes an inspirational article written specifically for Elephant Journal.

As I go through my creative and spiritual process, it always feels as if my inner process is a sacred exchange that is part prayer, part deep listening, and part love.

After I post, I listen to what comes through me. It’s as if I’m listening to the highest part of myself that guides the everyday part of me back toward inner peace, even in the middle of chaos.

But that day—April 7th, 2026—I couldn’t do it. Nothing that usually worked spoke to me. The threat of wiping out millions of people hung in the air and in my body, and I lost my agency.

I tried to stay helpful to the people that count on me, centered, grounded, and in a place of joy and creativity, but I just couldn’t get there. I sang healing chants, meditated, created, but I was trying too hard.

As I often tell others, you can’t push the river.

As I processed my behavior, here’s what I’ve learned:

Sometimes the most compassionate thing that we can do is to accept that we’re not okay.

The shadow part of us is here, we are overwhelmed, and even with all the healing tools we know, we are human and this situation is all too much.

When we berate ourselves for not doing better, we only add another layer of suffering. I blamed myself for falling for his manipulation, and I blamed myself for not honoring myself with mega doses of self-care and self-love.

The undercurrent of disbelief, horror, grief, and fear were overwhelming for me. I couldn’t even write out my feelings because what I was feeling wasn’t word-based.

My intense feelings needed a different kind of release, one that was beyond all words. In my case, what I am feeling is best expressed by letting out primal and wordless screams or tears of sorrow and grief.

I allow different sounds to move through me. Experimenting. Letting go of the toxic poison.

Wordless and elongated deep sighs, growls, and groans.

Step by step, I’m coming home to myself. I am going through an emotional process and this is only day one. I need to be compassionate and gentle with myself, but it’s a challenge. I don’t like how deeply I was affected and how powerful his words impacted my body, and I don’t like that I went through a phase of self-blame.

What happened to my self-care tools? What happened to self-love? What happened to all the healing tools I share with others? Why couldn’t I access them for myself? Why couldn’t I choose peace?

Well, I just couldn’t. Not that day. Not with his words and their unbearable imprint on my soul.

Maybe this is part of the journey we’re all on. Just when we think we’ve transformed, and just when we think we’ve mastered something we’ve struggled with, life gives us another huge test. Often, even a deeper and more humbling one.

Many of us have known people with abusive traits. But this? His behavior feels like a magnified version of emotional manipulation and the most sadistic use of power.

The real test is to still love and cherish ourselves no matter how we handle the big tests in life, and to remind us of who we really are, even after we lose our way.

As historian, Heather Cox Richardson reminded us on April 7th at 5 p.m. Eastern in her online chat, and I’m paraphrasing: 

Tomorrow comes, and we keep going. We keep doing what we can do to bring Democracy back more persistently and passionately than ever.

This article wasn’t meant to be a political piece. It’s meant to be something else. These are sacred pages from my journal and a chance for both of us to pause and reflect.

It’s also a reminder that personal growth isn’t accomplished in a straight line.

It seems as if we are being asked over and over again to return toward our compass of unconditional love, kindness, empathy, neighboring, resilience, courage, and hope.

And yes, this is a time when we are also being asked to turn toward our gifts. To keep creating and opening the creative well within us as a form of resistance and a marker that stands for retrieving and receiving light and joy, no matter what craziness is around us.

We are also being asked to call upon gratitude as our anchor. There is so much to be grateful for. Look around. See it. Feel it. Start a gratitude journal. It will help.

Today, I’m recovering, resting, writing again, and singing, too. As one of the songs I composed says:

You and I are still here, no matter what.

You and I are love.

You and I are breath.

And you and I are still here

No matter what.

Today, I am more aware of how easily toxicity can enter my body and how intentional I must be about releasing it.

I’m also taking a short break from the news. I’m not keeping my head in the sand and ignoring it, but I can’t allow it to live inside me, either. I know it’s easier said than done, but I’m working on it.

One of the most powerful tools I use and teach is sound healing, and it’s not about singing out of tune or in tune. It’s about releasing all the cancerous toxic feelings out of you.

If you’ve been feeling like me, try to do what I did today. Let out a long sigh. Groan. Scream. Growl. Use gestures with each of your sound release choices.

Let it out so you can begin again. Today feels like a blank page and a quiet invitation to start fresh.

I learned a lot from the past few days, and from moments in my past when I’ve felt manipulated, abused, unseen, unheard, or overwhelmed.

I’m learning again about boundaries, speaking up, listening, silence, miracles, magic, nature, and most importantly, I’m learning that I am human enough to fall apart sometimes. And it’s okay. It’s more than okay.

It’s okay to be in the darkness, the terror, and the heartbreak. It’s okay to lose access to the very healing tools I believe in, and it’s okay to trust that I will find the light between the cracks and feel my way back home eventually.

Emotions move and shift. Yesterday, I felt raw fear. Today, I looked up at the sky, took a slow, grateful breath, and began again. It feels like a kind of rebirth and I’ve gained a deeper acceptance of both the light and the shadow parts within me.

Today, I’m making a renewed commitment to reach for love, light, joy, and gratitude as my steady anchors.

Thank you for being here, and if you’re willing, I’d love to hear how you have been lately and how you are coping. Let’s be real with each other. You’re not alone.

I’m still here.

~