A few words of comfort on very hard days.
What do you do when there’s nothing actionable you can do right now?
And I imagine that feels so scary and powerless. I get it. I’ve been there, too.
We don’t have a crystal ball. We don’t know how things will turn out.
And I think that the state that most of us struggle with the most is not-knowing.
So you don’t know right now. And it sucks.
I can’t tell you things will get better.
But I will ask you to remind and comfort yourself (and me!) of other times in your life when you felt hopeless.
When you were faced with the unknown and how you coped.
When the last really hard, seemingly impossible thing happened in your life, how did that turn out?
Who helped you cope? What resources did you use?
And, possibly maybe, did things ultimately turn out better than you ever could have expected (even though you didn’t see that at the time)?
Could it be that the same thing might happen this time?
Can you allow yourself – even a small part of you – to consider that someday this will make sense and you will find yourself in a situation that’s ten-fold better than what you were in and that seems to be dissolving in front of you now?
How do you find faith when things feel hopeless?
To invite the chance that this or something better may be coming your way.
And at the risk of sounding too Pollyanna-ish, I want us to hold both things: something better could be coming your way and right now sucks.
Both things are true.
You’re so strong.
You’re so capable.
You’ve been able to figure out so much in your life so far with far fewer resources than you have now.
You’re a resilient, gritty kind of person.
And that counts for so much.
Could the you of five, ten or fifteen years ago have imagined all the ways you’ve grown and all the added stress and responsibility that you’ve taken on and managed to navigate?
Can you imagine, too, what future you five, ten years down the road might think of you handling this situation?
If you can’t imagine what future you might have to say about the situation, what do some of your loved ones have to say about you and your capabilities to weather hard times?
Can you let their words of affirmation and comfort bolster you as you make your way through these rocky days?
What if no one can fix what you’re going through?
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I wish I could take out my magic wand and solve it or, at the least, peer into that crystal ball and reassure you that everything will be fine.
But I can’t. No one can, really.
You just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other through these hard days, through these tough times, through this tender chapter of your life.
It may feel impossible and you may want to give up and just scream and sob and quit.
But you won’t.
Instead, you’ll do what needs to be done – start dinner, refill the toilet paper roll, return that work email, take out the recycling.
You will do all of this and you’ll feel like you’re on autopilot (that’s okay, please let that be okay!).
And you might feel like your chest is burning from the anxiety and your stomach upset by the worry.
Falling asleep and being at peace in bed at night may feel hard right now.
Don’t set the bar too high.
In times like these, it’s not realistic to think everything – including and especially your body and mind – will be okay.
How do you give yourself permission for things to not be okay right now?
You may feel like you’re on autopilot and that the challenge of this situation has lodged itself like an angry storm in your body and mind, but it won’t always be this way.
One day you’ll wake up feeling more like yourself.
More hopeful. Less scared. More assured. Less shaky.
Keep putting one foot in front of the other until that day comes.
You know how to do this. You’ve done it before.
Honey, at the risk of dismissing your experience I want to say something: this is IT. This is the hardness of being a human, of being an adult.
It’s actually really, really hard sometimes.
Anyone who tells you otherwise probably isn’t being honest about their own experience.
Being human, being an adult with responsibilities, with relationships, obligations, debts, needs, and bodies that require special care can feel so crummily hard some days.
You’re in it right now. You’re getting the hard part of the human experience.
Will it always feel this painful?
But while it is, please try and be as kind to yourself as you can.
Maybe kindness looks like being actionable.
Maybe kindness looks like slowing down.
Maybe kindness looks like reaching out for support.
Maybe kindness looks like doing this on your own, keeping your tender vulnerability close to your heart.
However kindness looks for you right now, be that to yourself.
There’s no one right way to handle very hard days. Whatever works for you is the way.
If you don’t know what works for you, still yourself for a moment and tune in. See what your body/mind/soul has to say.
If the only thing that pops up is having a bowl of popcorn for dinner, that’s wonderful.
If it looks like reaching out to your therapist, great.
If it looks like going on an angry sprint run, so be it.
What can you do to comfort yourself when you’re in acute pain?
The people who love you (and yes, there are people who love you) care about you. You matter to people.
Take care of yourself. Take comfort in whatever you can.
Recall all the times you’ve overcome, when you’ve managed situations that feel unmanageable.
Reflect on those moments in your life when things turned out better than you ever could have imagined and never could have anticipated that at the time.
Maybe, and I know this is a bit out there, think of the long line of ancestors you come from who likely overcame and navigated so, so much just so you could be here.
You come from a line of survivors. You will survive this, too.
For now, go take care of yourself. However that looks.
Please know that I’m here, rooting for you, wanting only good things for you, trusting that all will be well for you.
I see you.
How can trauma-informed support help you find your way through a crisis?
When you arrive at therapy after life has delivered an unexpected blow—a diagnosis, a betrayal, a loss that’s left you alternating between frantic action and complete paralysis—your therapist understands that crisis requires both doing and feeling, that 101 self-care suggestions when it all feels like too much might help but won’t fix the fundamental shattering you’re experiencing.
They sit with you in the not-knowing, validating how terrifying it feels when nothing in your control can change the situation. Your therapist doesn’t rush to silver-line or problem-solve but acknowledges this fundamental truth: sometimes life genuinely sucks, and pretending otherwise invalidates your very real pain.
Together, you create what they call a “crisis protocol”—identifying what’s actually within your control (surprisingly little) versus what feels urgent but isn’t actionable (surprisingly much). They help you recognize when you’re using hyperactivity to avoid feeling or when you’re drowning in emotions without taking necessary practical steps.
Your therapist guides you in remembering previous impossible situations you’ve survived. Not to minimize current pain but to remind your nervous system of its proven resilience. They help you see the throughline of survival in your story—every crisis you’ve weathered is evidence of your capacity to weather this one.
They normalize the autopilot state, explaining that maintaining basic functions while emotionally reeling isn’t failure but appropriate crisis response. Returning work emails while your chest burns with anxiety, making dinner while your mind spins—this is what survival looks like in real time.
Most importantly, your therapist helps you hold paradox: this is unbearably hard AND you will survive it. You don’t know how it will resolve AND you’ve figured out every previous impossibility. The situation might be genuinely terrible AND something unexpected might emerge.
Wrapping up.
Now, I’d love to hear in the comments below:
What are some of the words of comfort you return to on really hard days?
What helps you feel grounded, soothed, or even just a little more steady when life feels overwhelming?
Please leave a message so our community of 25,000 monthly website visitors can benefit from your wisdom.
You never know who might need to hear exactly what you have to share.
Here’s to healing relational trauma and creating thriving lives on solid foundations.
Warmly,
Annie
Related Reading
- What does it mean to be an ambitious, upwardly mobile woman from a relational trauma background?
- Attachment Trauma: How Early Relationships Shape Your Adult Connections
- Trauma and Relationships: When Your Professional Strengths Become Your Relationship Blindspots
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FREE GUIDE A Reason to Keep Going25 pages of what I actually say to clients when they are in the dark. Somatic tools, cognitive anchors, and 40 grounded, honest reasons to stay. No platitudes. What would it mean to finally have the right support? A complimentary consultation to discuss what you are navigating and whether working together makes sense. BOOK A COMPLIMENTARY CONSULTATION Annie WrightLMFT · 15,000+ Clinical Hours · W.W. Norton Author · Psychology Today ColumnistAnnie Wright is a licensed psychotherapist, relational trauma specialist, and the founder and successfully exited CEO of a large California trauma-informed therapy center. A W.W. Norton published author, she writes the weekly Substack Strong & Stable and her work and expert opinions have appeared in NPR, NBC, Forbes, Business Insider, The Boston Globe, and The Information. MORE ABOUT ANNIEYOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE Medical DisclaimerFrequently Asked QuestionsWhat's Running Your Life?The invisible patterns you can’t outwork… START THE QUIZRelated Posts   
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