DEALING WITH HOPELESSNESS

When clients express feelings of hopelessness, I’ve learned that it's important not to rush to reframe, deny, or immediately try to make it positive. Hopelessness often arises when someone has been carrying more than their system can manage, either for too long or too often. It’s not a failure of mindset; it’s the body and brain signaling, “I don’t see a way out, and I don’t have the energy to keep trying.”

I view hopelessness not as a problem to fix, but rather as a signal that something in a person's world, or their history, has made them feel alone in their suffering. When I work with someone experiencing this, I don't ask them to “try harder” or “think differently.” Instead, I help them recognize that they are not alone in that moment—they are with someone who can hold their experience with them, and that there are others who would gladly share their burdens.

I often describe hopelessness as a dense fog. It lacks sharp edges and distorts your sense of time, possibility, and self. When in this foggy state, it can feel like it has always been there and always will be. The initial step isn't to escape it, but to acknowledge that you are "in something"—a state that will not last forever.

Here are a few strategies I’ve found helpful with clients experiencing hopelessness:

Compassionate Naming: Instead of saying, “I am hopeless,” we rephrase it to, “I notice myself feeling hopelessness at this moment.” This subtle shift from identity to observation creates distance and space to breathe, allowing for a perspective above the “fog.”

Reducing the Scale: Rather than asking, “What would make you feel hopeful?” I ask, “What would feel just a little less bad?” This could be something as simple as lying on the floor and listening to music, playing with a pet, watering houseplants, or taking a walk and noticing something new. The goal isn't to chase motivation, but to create enough movement to remind the body it's not frozen.

Curiosity about the Story: Hopelessness often comes with a script: “Nothing will ever change,” “I’m too much,” or “It’s pointless to try.” I inquire about the origin of this story: “Where did this story come from? Who taught you that this was true?” More importantly, I ask, “What parts of you still believe it—and what parts aren’t so sure?”

If there’s one thing I emphasize repeatedly, it’s this: You don’t have to feel hopeful about the future at this moment. Right now, you can feel better by connecting to your body, to another person, to a fond memory, or to the parts of yourself that still desire something meaningful.