When the Lights Go Out: A Trail Tool for Low Mood and Depression

Some seasons of life don’t feel like seasons at all. They feel like fog.

No edges. No landmarks. Just days that blur into each other, with a strange kind of heaviness in your limbs and your chest. You’re not in crisis, but you’re not okay either. You’re still showing up, still replying to messages, still getting through the day—but inside, it feels like the lights have gone out.

This is how depression can land for many people.

Not loud.Not dramatic.Just gone.

Gone joy.Gone interest.Gone sense of self.

And the hardest part? It’s not always visible. Especially if you’re the one who usually holds it together. Especially if you’re kind, capable, and dependable. Especially if you’ve spent your life being the strong one.

Depression Is a Freeze State

In trauma work, we often talk about the freeze response—a nervous system state that kicks in when fight or flight aren’t options. It’s the body’s way of saying: “I can’t run. I can’t fight. So I’ll disappear.”

That’s what depression often is. Not laziness. Not a lack of motivation. Not failure.

It’s a body and mind protecting you from the weight of too much—too much pressure, too much loss, too much disconnection, too much unspoken grief.

So if you're in that state now, know this:

You’re not broken. You’re in pause. And pause is not the same as permanent.

But I Don’t Feel “Depressed”

Some people hesitate to use the word “depression” because they’re still functioning. They’re still working, still parenting, still showing up.

But high-functioning depression is still depression. It just wears better clothes.

It looks like:

• Numbness masked as busyness

• Smiling while slowly detaching

• Exhaustion that doesn’t go away with sleep

• Apathy toward things you used to love

And it often comes with shame. Because how can you feel so empty when nothing’s “wrong”?

The truth is: something doesn’t have to be catastrophic to be too much. Chronic stress, subtle emotional neglect, years of masking or overgiving—these things slowly chip away at your reserves until one day, there’s just… grey.

Trail Tool: The 3-Minute Activation

When you’re in the depths, even the kindest advice can feel like too much. So let’s start very small.

Choose one gentle action:

• Stretch your arms over your head

• Open a window

• Drink a glass of water

• Stand on the doorstep and feel the air on your skin

Set a timer for 3 minutes. That’s it. As you do it, say: “I am still here.”

You don’t need to fix. You don’t need to shift your mindset. You just need to begin making contact again—with your body, your breath, and the part of you that still wants to live.

These tiny acts are not pointless. They’re not pathetic. They’re practices of return. You’re not failing—you’re reawakening.

Softness is Still Progress

You don’t need to climb out of depression like a hero. You don’t need to “bounce back.”You don’t need to be positive or productive.

Sometimes healing means staying in your pyjamas and moving one glass of water closer to your lips. Sometimes it means whispering, “I don’t know what’s next. But I’m here.”

Sometimes it means letting someone walk beside you until the fog lifts just enough to see the next step.

Tools for the Trail aren’t about becoming a shinier version of yourself. They’re about remembering that the dullness you feel is not your identity, it’s a survival state. And survival states can soften. With help. With time. With truth.

If you’re in this place now, or recognise it in someone you love, reach out. You don’t have to do this alone.

With warmth and wildness, Sarah x

BACP & NCPS Accredited Psychotherapist

Rewild your mind. Come home to yourself.