When Hope Felt Impossible: Finding Light in the Darkest Moments

“There comes a moment in any struggle when hope feels like a distant memory. For me, that moment was suffocating.”

Living in Despair

Days blurred into nights. Every attempt at healing seemed to fail. I felt trapped inside a body that betrayed me and a mind that wouldn’t stop judging me.

I asked myself: Will I ever feel normal again? Will I ever wake up with energy? Will I ever run? Imagining a future where I felt well, capable, or whole was almost impossible. Despair became my constant companion.

At sunrise, I forced myself to try hatha yoga. Standing against the wall, leaning backward, holding onto furniture just to balance — I struggled through poses, skipped some, made up others, and rarely did any correctly. But even imperfect movement counted. I’d turn on the heater to sweat, just to feel alive.

When Fear and Anxiety Take Hold

My worst and best thoughts collided each morning. I told myself: I need to get better so I can start a family. Hurry up. Detox. Heal. It felt like slow genocide — life slipping away one cell at a time while everyone else moved on. Friends showing me newborns didn’t feel kind; it felt like salt in the wound.

Calls for help became my lifeline. I rang poison control, emergency services, even an ambulance when I truly feared for my life. One moment, a ghost of a bat flying over me caused a surge of energy that felt like being tased — 30 seconds of pain and panic I was convinced was a heart attack.

I remembered that my area had weapons testing decades ago. Combined with my training in clinical hypnosis and strategic psychotherapy, my fear of invisible threats intensified. I even contacted the British Embassy to check for risks.

Friends, my boyfriend, and others advocated for me when I couldn’t. Their love and care became a crucial support, even as uncertainty about my symptoms grew. Speculations ranged from drones to energy weapons, from computer chips to mental health explanations. Their confusion mirrored my own, deepening the sense of isolation but also highlighting the shared human need to make sense of chaos.

Reclaiming Small Pieces of Life

Despite everything, I started to reclaim small freedoms. Walking with a stick, driving again, using an umbrella for support — even minor adjustments became liberation. Simple journeys — a 45-minute walk to the train station — felt like victories.

I traveled to see family and friends: Victoria, Perth, Broome. I dry fasted on Cable Beach, socialized, and attempted healing through movement, sunlight, and connection. It didn’t always work, but each effort kept a spark alive. Even small goals, like practicing talking all day for a potential sales job, became ways to rebuild connection and identity.

Coaching Insight

Lesson: hopelessness is natural, but temporary. Even in the darkest moments, the tiniest shift — a thought, a sensation, a breath, or a small plan for the future — can spark change. You don’t need to leap; sometimes it’s enough to whisper to yourself: I’m still here.

Mini Hypnosis / Reflection

Close your eyes. Inhale, hold, exhale.

Picture a tiny ember glowing inside you — small, fragile, but alive. Even when everything seems lost, this ember can ignite. Trust it. Nurture it. It only needs a little air to grow.

Closing / Teaser

Tomorrow, we confront the inner critic — that relentless voice questioning your every move.