A few days ago I hit one of those lows. Nothing dramatic, no big collapse — just that slow grind of small things stacking up. Three or four nights of bad sleep in a row. The kind where you wake up already behind. Then some bad news on the TV, a few things going wrong in my day, a general sense of friction in the air. It wasn’t one single cause. It was a cluster.
By mid-morning I was flat. Motivation gone. Energy shot. The world felt small, heavy, and grey. If you’ve ever had those days where everything feels like a push through mud, you’ll know the place I’m talking about.
And here’s the thing: in those moments, the brain starts spinning stories. “This is who I am now. Maybe I’ve lost it. Maybe I’ll never get it together.” It feels permanent, like the low is here to stay. That’s the trap — when your identity fuses with your state.
But here’s what happened. In the middle of that fog, my neighbour knocked on the door and asked if I wanted to come over for tea. Nothing profound, no deep coaching conversation — just a chat, a laugh, a shared moment of normal life. And just like that, I felt lighter. The heaviness cracked. It was embarrassingly simple: one cup of tea, one smile, one connection.
That day reminded me of something I want to share with you: lows are not forever. They’re not the truth of who you are. They’re a state. And states shift — sometimes in minutes.
(Important: this is a personal story, not medical advice. If you ever feel unsafe or have thoughts of harming yourself, please call emergency services or a crisis line right away.)
What I Thought Was Happening
When I’m in a low, my first instinct is to make it mean something about me.
I start pulling identity-level conclusions out of a temporary state:
- “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”
- “Maybe I’ve lost my edge.”
- “Other people seem fine — what’s wrong with me?”
That’s the inner commentary of a low. It isn’t just the tiredness or the heaviness — it’s the story that builds on top of it. And the story always exaggerates. It turns “I had three bad nights of sleep” into “My whole life is falling apart.”
And then, of course, there’s the frustration piece. You work hard, you push forward, you expect results — and when they don’t come as fast as you want, the gap between expectation and reality adds fuel to the low. Suddenly you’re not just tired, you’re also discouraged. You start doubting the entire path.
I’ve seen it in clients, but I’ve lived it too: when a cluster of bad inputs — poor sleep, bad news, setbacks — collides with high expectations not being met, the system tilts. The low feels personal, but really, it’s structural.
Real Causes of Highs and Lows
When you zoom out, a “low” isn’t one thing. It’s usually a cluster of small forces that add up until your system tips. Here are the main ones I’ve noticed — in myself and in the people I work with.
1. Biological layers
Your body sets the stage. Bad sleep for three or four nights in a row and your emotional resilience is already cut in half. Add skipped meals, blood sugar spikes, or sitting indoors all day, and you’re running on fumes. It’s not weakness — it’s biology doing what biology does.
2. Situational triggers
Life stacks things up. You turn on the TV and there’s more bad news. A project goes sideways. An unexpected bill arrives. Alone, each one is manageable. But when they land together, it feels like the ground is shifting under your feet.
3. Identity-level factors
This is where my work comes in. Lows aren’t just chemical or circumstantial — they’re filtered through the identity you’ve built. If your self-image is already fragile, a small setback can feel like proof you’re failing. If you carry beliefs like “I always mess things up” or “I can’t keep momentum”, every bad day seems to confirm them. That’s how a temporary state starts looking permanent.
Put all three together — tired body, cluster of setbacks, distorted identity lens — and you get a dip. Sometimes shallow, sometimes deep. But always explainable. Always human.
And the important part? These lows are not destiny. They’re not who you are. They’re just the system showing strain.
Why a Low Feels Permanent but Usually Isn’t
The trickiest part about being in a low is how permanent it feels.
When you’re in it, it doesn’t just feel like a bad day — it feels like your life. Like this is who you’ve become.
That’s the illusion. Lows compress your perspective. They narrow your field of vision until all you can see is the heaviness. You forget that just a week ago you were motivated, clear, and full of energy.
There’s also a chain reaction at play:
- Bad sleep → emotional regulation drops.
- Negative input (news, setbacks) → interpretation turns darker.
- Withdrawal → fewer positive signals.
- Identity lens → “See? I’m failing again.”
And round it goes. That’s why it can feel endless in the moment.
But here’s the reality: states shift. Always. One decent night’s sleep, one good conversation, one laugh — and the whole thing can flip. I’ve seen it in myself too many times to deny it. What feels unchangeable in the morning can feel light and workable by the afternoon.
That’s why the most dangerous thing you can do in a low is believe it’s permanent. It isn’t. It never has been.
What to Do in the Moment (Do’s and Don’ts)
When you’re sitting in a low, the question becomes: What now?
Here’s what I’ve learned helps — and what doesn’t.
✅ Do
- Rest — even a short nap or early night can reset your whole system.
- Hydrate & eat something stabilising — your brain runs on fuel, not fumes.
- Step outside — sunlight and fresh air are medicine for the nervous system.
- Reach out — a text, a phone call, or sitting with a neighbour for tea. Humans regulate best with other humans.
- Breathe & allow — remind yourself: “This is a state, not my identity.” Acceptance softens resistance.
❌ Don’t
- Make big decisions — lows distort perception. Don’t quit the job, end the relationship, or throw out the plan while you’re in the fog.
- Self-isolate completely — a little quiet is fine, but cutting off connection deepens the low.
- Use substances to numb — alcohol, endless scrolling, or overeating only delay the bounce-back.
- Believe the story — “I’ll always be like this” is never true. It’s just your identity lens talking.
And most importantly:
➡️ If you ever feel the urge to harm yourself, stop right there. Pick up the phone and call emergency services or a crisis line. You do not have to go through that alone.
A low is temporary. Life has chapters. Give this page permission to turn.
Small Actions That Flip the Spiral
When you feel low, you don’t need a 12-step plan. You need a tiny shove in the right direction — and those shoves are usually boring, human, and immediately available. Here are the small things that have flipped the spiral for me (and for clients) again and again:
- One cup of tea with a neighbour. No therapy, no life plan — just a normal human conversation. It’s astonishing what a short, ordinary connection will do.
- One smile, one joke, one small laugh. Laughter changes chemistry. It doesn’t have to be a full belly laugh — even a small grin softens the system.
- Step outside for 10 minutes of sunlight. Sunlight + fresh air resets sleep hormones and mood micro-shifts.
- Move for 5 minutes. A walk around the block, a couple of squats, or dancing to one song. Movement interrupts rumination.
- Send a one-line message. “Hey, I’m a bit flat today — fancy a chat?” That single line invites connection and accountability without drama.
- Make a tiny, achievable task. Something with immediate feedback: make a cup of tea, wash one dish, open a window. Completing something small gives the brain a win.
- Look for one small sensory shift. Cold water on your face. Bright light. A song that used to make you feel alive. These micro-stimuli move the nervous system.
- Pet an animal or watch a short silly video. Oxytocin and distraction — both useful.
The point is: you don’t need heroic energy. You need accessible energy. The trick is to pick one tiny action and actually do it. Often that one tiny action is enough to start the upward spiral.
Remember the tea story: it wasn’t some big intervention. It was ordinary human life. Sometimes ordinary is the medicine.
(If you’re thinking, “I can’t even do one small thing,” please reach out to someone — a neighbour, a friend, a hotline. You’re allowed to ask for help.)
The Identity Stack Angle (Resilience, Recovery, and What Actually Changes the Length of a Low)
When you boil it down, how long a low lasts isn’t just biology or circumstance — it’s also the identity you’re running. I call this the Identity Stack: the set of beliefs, self-image, values and habits that sit underneath your behaviour. Two people can have the same bad night’s sleep and the same pile of setbacks — one bounces back in an afternoon, the other sinks for days. The difference is their stack.
Here’s the practical logic I see over and over:
- Biology gives you the vulnerability. (Bad sleep, hunger, hormones.)
- Situation supplies the trigger. (Bad news, bills, friction.)
- Identity decides the story and the length. (Do you have default beliefs that say “this proves I’m failing”? Do you have a self-image of someone who can weather storms? Do your values pull you toward connection or isolation?)
If your stack contains lots of brittle beliefs — “I’m the one who always messes up”, “Asking for help means I’m weak” — then a small trigger finds a ready home and will echo. If your stack contains resilient habits — quick recovery actions, social scaffolding, a baseline belief that “states pass” — the same trigger bounces harmlessly off.
What this means for you
You don’t have to wait for biology to fix itself. You can intentionally strengthen the layers that shorten lows: loosen limiting beliefs, rehearse a sturdier self-image, build tiny rituals that reliably supply social or sensory uplift.
A 3-Question Micro Exercise (use it in the moment)
Do this sitting at the kitchen table, in a bus stop, or before you check your phone:
- What just happened? (Name the facts — sleep, an email, the news — not the story.)
- What belief does that event activate for me? (E.g., “If I fail now I’ll always fail,” “I must do this alone.”)
- What is one tiny, non-threatening step I can take right now? (Call a neighbour, make tea, step outside for 5 minutes.)
Do those three things and then do the tiny step. That action interrupts the loop and gives you new data. You won’t be arguing with your whole identity in one sitting — you’ll be giving it a small, friendly counterexample.
A quick example (the tea moment)
Fact: bad sleep + bad news + small setbacks.
Activated belief: “This proves I’m failing.”
Tiny step: answer the neighbour’s knock and accept a cup of tea.
Result: a short, ordinary human connection that provides new evidence — you’re not defined by this state.
Two durable practices that build a more resilient stack
- Practice one tiny social prompt: keep a short list of three people you can text with the exact wording: “A bit flat today — fancy a 5min call/tea?” Rehearse sending it once when you’re not desperate so it’s easier when you are.
- Collect small counterexamples: after a low, jot down one thing that proved the low wasn’t permanent (a laugh, a call returned, a night of decent sleep). Over time these little datapoints rewire your default belief.
If at any point your thoughts include harm or you feel unsafe, stop and call emergency services or a crisis line immediately. This is coaching and lived experience — not a substitute for clinical care. If lows are frequent or severe, please consult a clinician.
What Happened That Day
It didn’t come from one thing. It was a pile-up.
First, I hadn’t slept properly in four nights. I’ve started snoring, and every time I rolled onto my back my wife gave me a nudge. Once or twice, fine — but night after night, it wears you down. I’d lie there half-asleep, half-anxious, worrying about the next nudge, until I eventually gave up and moved to the other room. By morning I was wrecked.
Then came the gut punch: news of Charlie Kirk’s assassination. I admired his sharpness, his energy. Suddenly he was gone, and I sat frozen in front of the screen, tears running down my face, doom-scrolling for every scrap of detail.
Next, my own small defeats: I reached out to old clients, hoping for a spark of positivity. Silence. One reply, but it was sad news. Then my posts on X and LinkedIn went nowhere. My website stats flatlined. And the final kick in the teeth — a video predicting AI would wipe out coaches altogether.
No wins, no relief. Just dread, heaviness, and the sense that the universe had quietly decided: not today, not for you.
That’s where I was when we were supposed to go next door. Tea with the neighbours, planning our trip to San Sebastián. Honestly, I didn’t want to. I wanted to sink deeper into my misery, let the dark current drag me down — I even tell my clients sometimes to “let the feeling run its course.” There’s a twisted comfort in that.
But my wife wasn’t having it. “You’re going,” she said, final. And so I went.
Five steps across the garden, and everything began to shift. The house smelled of strong coffee and conversation. I drank mine black, no sugar, and felt the caffeine kick in. At first, it was small talk. Then it turned. My neighbour, who has a PhD in science, started untangling conspiracy theories with me. Before long, we were debating moon landings, trading facts, laughing at how far down the rabbit hole people can fall.
Somewhere in the middle of that, the fog lifted. The heaviness cracked. By the time we walked back home, I felt sharper, lighter, almost energized. I opened my laptop and worked for hours, confident and optimistic again.
It still amazes me how a day can turn on something as simple as strong coffee, honest talk, and a neighbour who argues well.
When you should seek immediate help
Seek urgent help right now if you have any of the following:
- Active thoughts of harming yourself or others, or a plan to do so.
- You can’t care for basic needs (eating, washing, getting out of bed) or you’re dangerously disoriented.
- New symptoms of psychosis (hearing or seeing things that others don’t) or sudden severe mood swings that impair functioning.
If any of those apply, call emergency services or a crisis line immediately.
When to contact a health professional (non-urgent but soon)
Make an appointment with your GP, a psychiatrist, or a licensed mental-health professional if you have:
- Low mood, hopelessness, or functional decline that lasts more than 2 weeks and doesn’t improve with basic self-care.
- Repeated episodes of severe lows or anxiety that interfere with work, relationships, or sleep.
- Increasing use of substances to cope, or worsening withdrawal/isolation.
- Questions about medication, persistent sleep problems, or concerns about trauma.
If you’re unsure whether it’s “clinical” or “a bad spell,” err on the side of checking in — a GP can help triage and refer you to the right service.
I write about lows because I’ve been there — and because ordinary human things (a walk, a cup of tea, a two-minute laugh) often help. But if you’re in danger, please don’t wait for “it to pass.” Call. Tell someone. Get there. You matter more than any story your low is telling you.