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Teaching Anxious Skiers: What to Do When Clients Go Silent

Updated: Oct 23

Two skiers close to each other demonstrating physical proximity and nervous system co-regulation in professional ski instruction
Two skiers demonstrating how physical proximity can act as nervous system co-regulation


I Spent an Entire Bubble Lift on the Floor, Crying


Hintertux. A ski instructor training course. High winds meant the bubble cars kept stopping and swaying.


My group including trainer bundled into the first bubble. I ended up alone in the second one.


I spent the entire journey on the floor, crying.


Perimenopause-amplified anxiety. Unprocessed grief. Fear of heights I'd never quite acknowledged. And the very real feeling of being left behind by the group - my herd.


When we reached the top, I stood up, pulled my goggles down (thank you polarised lenses!), and skied the rest of the afternoon in silence.


From the outside, it probably looked like composure. Maybe even sulking.


Inside, my nervous system was in full shutdown. I was resentful, frustrated, cross with myself - and completely unable to articulate any of it.


No one noticed. No one checked in.


Not because they didn't care. Because they didn't know what to look for.


That's what this is about.



When Anxious Skiers Go Silent: What You're Actually Seeing


If you've taught long enough, you've seen these moments:


  • The chatty client who suddenly goes quiet halfway down a run

  • Someone who says they're "fine" but hasn't made eye contact all morning

  • The person who is always at the back of the group and distanced from it

  • Standing rigid at the top of a slope, breathing shallow, unable to move


None of this is random. It's what a nervous system under threat looks like.


When the body no longer feels safe, the thinking brain goes offline. Your instruction - no matter how brilliant - can't land. What you're seeing isn't lack of confidence or effort. It's survival physiology playing out in real time.


According to polyvagal theory (developed by neuroscientist Stephen Porges), when we perceive threat, our autonomic nervous system responds in predictable patterns: fight, flight, freeze, or shutdown. On the slopes, freeze and shutdown are what you'll see most often in anxious clients - and they're easy to misread as simply hesitation or lack of engagement.


Silence is another way we communicate. When the nervous system hits overwhelm or shutdown, the part of us that accesses words goes offline - but the body is still communicating what it needs.



Sarah Gilbertson looking visibly anxious off piste being helped by another skier, demonstrating nervous system activation and need for physical proximity that ski instructors encounter with anxious clients
Technically I could get down this but I was already in a state of overwhelm.




Silence is another way we communicate. When overwhelm or shutdown kicks in, the body speaks even when words can't












Why Physical Proximity Matters More Than You Think


Here's what most ski instructor training doesn't cover: we're all wired for belonging.


As mammals, our nervous systems constantly scan for two things - am I safe, and am I connected?

When we feel excluded or left behind, even unintentionally, our system might register it as threat.


That's not drama. That's biology. And it matters for everyone you teach - not just women, not just anxious clients.


But here's the key: it's not that being left alone is always a problem. It's about capacity.


When someone's nervous system is regulated - when they have bandwidth - they can handle being in a separate lift car, arriving last to a regroup, or skiing at their own pace. It doesn't register as threat.


But when capacity shrinks - through stress, fatigue, hormonal fluctuations, injury anxiety, or just the accumulated overwhelm of the day - the same situation feels completely different.


Being left behind suddenly reads as exclusion. Slowing the group down feels like a threat to belonging.


That's when skiing's social dynamics amplify everything. Small groups. Days together. Constant regrouping. When someone's already dysregulated, these moments might hit harder.


Small decisions can have nervous system impact:


  • Who rides in which lift car

  • Not asking about comfort breaks or any other type of break

  • Leaving someone alone at the top of a run while the group waits at the bottom


These aren't just logistical choices. They're safety signals - and they matter most when someone's capacity is already stretched.


When I was left alone in that bubble, my thinking brain knew I was fine. My nervous system - already dealing with perimenopause, grief, and heights - had no capacity left. It read exclusion as danger and responded accordingly.


For anyone carrying stress, managing hormonal changes, recovering from injury, or just having an off day, sensitivity is amplified. Everything feels more threatening than it objectively is.


You can't see what people are carrying. But you can recognise when capacity has shrunk and someone's nervous system has hit overload.



What's Within Your Professional Scope


You're not there to deliver therapy on snow. You're there to teach skiing in a way that works with nervous systems, rather than overriding them.


What ski instructors can't do:


  • Unpack someone's trauma or past

  • Offer therapeutic coaching

  • Diagnose or treat


What ski instructors can do:


  • Ask better questions

  • Spot early signs of shutdown or overwhelm

  • Use proximity and presence as regulation tools

  • Make small choices that signal safety

  • Understand that everyone brings their whole life onto the slope - past, present, and future


This is Whole Body Listening. Noticing when breathing changes, when shoulders tighten, when someone goes quiet - reading what the nervous system is communicating.



Three Things That Help When Teaching Anxious Skiers


When someone's system is in protection mode, you can't teach technique until nervous system capacity returns. That's the sequencing shift.


1. You learn to read what's actually happening


That silence. The frozen legs. The "I'm fine" that doesn't match what you're seeing. These aren't attitude problems or lack of commitment - they're communication. Learning to read these signals changes what you can respond to.


2. Your regulation state becomes a teaching tool


Your nervous system affects your client's nervous system whether you're aware of it or not. When you understand how to work with your own state, you can help someone else's system settle - even before you give any instruction.


3. You create the conditions where choice becomes possible


When someone's grounded enough to access their own wisdom again, they usually know what they need. Your role shifts from fixing to facilitating - and that's when real confidence rebuilds.



Why This Matters for Ski Instruction


Understanding nervous system responses isn't touchy-feely coaching. It's essential knowledge for teaching anxious skiers - especially when clients go silent and your best instruction stops working.


Because when you can read physiology - not just technique - you stop wondering why:


  • Brilliant skiers sometimes can't access their technical skills

  • Your best instruction suddenly stops working

  • A client you thought had a great lesson, doesn't rebook


You're still teaching skiing. You're just reading what the whole body's communicating and working with a body-up rather than brain-down approach.


That's the difference between:


  • Encouragement and attunement

  • Pressure and permission

  • "Push through" and "Let's find what feels possible today"


This is professional literacy for ski instructors who want their teaching to have real impact.



What Comes Next


This is what nervous system literacy for ski professionals looks like. Not theory – translation.


You already know how to read snow conditions, terrain, teach technique and work with mindset. This adds another layer: reading the human in front of you.


The instructors and coaches who master this will define the next decade of teaching – not just technically brilliant, but emotionally literate, physiologically aware, and professionally grounded.


Nervous system literacy for ski professionals launches soon – professional development that bridges the gap between excellent instruction and understanding what bodies are actually communicating.


🎿 Be first to access the free instructor resources


I’m developing nervous system training specifically for ski professionals.


When you join, you’ll get:


The Frozen Moment – a free guide to understanding nervous system states on snow

✓ Early updates on upcoming workshops and courses for ski professionals

✓ One practical tool you can use on snow tomorrow





About Sarah

Sarah Gilbertson founder FlourishWell Coaching and Therapeutic Coach
Sarah Gilbertson is a Therapeutic Coach, BASI qualified ski instructor and founder of FlourishWell Coaching



Sarah Gilbertson is a Therapeutic Coach (Diploma in Therapeutic Coaching), BASI-qualified Ski Instructor, and founder of FlourishWell Coaching.


With 8+ years' experience across European ski resorts and a background in therapeutic coaching, she helps ski professionals develop nervous system literacy - understanding what clients are communicating beyond words and technique.













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References:

  • Porges, S. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-regulation


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