When you’ve hit rock bottom (and don’t know how to get up)

By Michael Ralls

Disclaimer: this article, as with any article on this website, is my opinion. It’s based on my experience as a therapist, as a client, and with the men I’ve worked with. It’s not the final word on therapy, and it’s not meant to replace doing your own research.

If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance things are pretty tough right now.

Maybe your relationship has ended. Maybe you’ve lost your job. Maybe you’ve lost someone you love. Maybe it’s all or none of these.

Whatever it is, it’s knocked you down and you can’t seem to get up.

You might feel empty, numb, heavy, incomplete, or completely overwhelmed. Maybe your head won’t switch off. Maybe your stomach is in knots. Getting out of bed can feel like climbing a mountain. Hope can feel like something only other people have.

This is what rock bottom can feel like. I know this because I’ve been there.

But guess what? You’re here, reading this!

And that matters more than you may think. It means something in you hasn’t given up.

Even if it feels tiny. Even if you don’t believe it yet. It’s there. Asking for you to listen to it.

Right now, it’s not about finding all the answers. And it’s not about trying to “fix your life”.

It’s about finding a way to keep going. Finding a way to feed that small part of you that wants to stay in the fight.

Filter out well-meant advice

People might say to you “just think positive” “visualise your future” “you need to find your purpose” “everything happens for a reason.”

And the most erroneous of all “time is a good healer”.

It’s all bollocks when your nervous system is fried.

When you’re at rock bottom, most advice doesn’t really help.

Your energy is gone. Your brain is in survival mode.

And at this stage, the goal is simply getting through the day without folding.

Four tools that can help you today

When everything feels unbearable, there are a few basic systems in the body that can help take the edge off.

They’re not a cure. They’re not therapy. They’re tools. Because sometimes tools are all you’ve got.

They can act as a circuit breaker. Enough to help you get through the day and start moving again.

The four main wellbeing chemicals in the brain.

Dopamine - small wins matter more than you think

Dopamine comes from doing things. Small, completed tasks. It’s the body’s “reward hormone”. This reward is what ultimately drives us to get stuff done. And it feels good.

Making the bed. Eating a meal. Tidying one room. Showering. Doing something vaguely productive or caring for yourself.

When you’re starting from rock bottom, motivation comes after action, not before.

One small win is enough to motivate the next.

But beware of the dopamine you don’t have to work for. The quick hits from social media a perfect example. They feel good for a minute or two but they are short-lived. And they will likely pull you into something that will ultimately make you feel worse.

Oxytocin – comfort equals safety

Oxytocin comes from connection and comfort.

Hugging someone. Touching. Affection.

If there’s no one around, the body still responds to pressure and warmth. Hugging a pillow, wrapping yourself in a heavy blanket, sitting with a pet.

This isn’t about forcing closeness. It’s about giving your nervous system a chance to feel safe in the feeling of connection. A chance to switch out of survival mode, if only for a few moments. It all helps.

Serotonin – the leveller

Serotonin helps level you out. It helps regulate mood. It comes from things like sunlight, walking in nature, keeping a simple routine, eating half-decent food, stillness or meditation.

You don’t need to overhaul your lifestyle. One walk. One meal. One regular anchor in the day is enough to begin with.

Endorphins – taking the edge off

Endorphins blunt pain and stress. Not just physical pain, but emotional pain too.

You get them from exercise and physical exertion, laughing, music, watching a film, and perhaps surprisingly, doing something kind for someone else. They call it ‘helpers high’. You’ll actually get a dose of all four of these chemicals from one small act of kindness. Kindness is hardwired into the human psyche.

For many men, endorphins are the easiest place to start. Move your body. Put music on. Let the endorphins hit. You’ll physically notice the difference.

The flywheel - building momentum

These chemicals don’t work in isolation.

They feed each other. One small action makes the next one slightly easier. It stacks.

Let’s say I drag myself out for a run and listen to music I love.

The endorphins start to hit. The pain eases.

I get some sunlight. Maybe a bit of nature. Come home, run a bath, sit quietly, breathe for a few minutes. Serotonin starts to flow. I feel calmer. More settled.

Pain eased and mind settled, I tidy the space I’m in. Make the bedroom feel calmer to match my mood. That’s dopamine. Then I cook myself something half-decent. More dopamine. More serotonin. It feels good.

So I sit and watch a film under a blanket. Go to bed early. Pillow between the legs. Oxytocin. Safety.

The next morning, I get up early. Go for walk outside. Buy some food. Keep a loose routine going.

You get the picture.

Don’t get me wrong, the pain is still there.  Heavy, real, sitting in my gut.

But it’s not so unbearable that I couldn’t do all of this. I realise I’ve carrying my pain. At least for today, it hasn’t been crushing me.

I just proven to myself I still have fight in me. And if I did that from a standing start, I can do it again. And again. For as long as it takes.

The honest truth - pain doesn’t disappear

This isn’t healing. It doesn’t erase grief. Or heartbreak. Or fear.

It’s still there. And it’s not going away overnight.

But now you’re standing. Still fighting. Still showing up. Still facing life head-on. Your inner warrior has awakened.

Bit by bit, you begin to grow around the pain instead of being crushed by it.

It’s not time that heals, it’s what you do with it.

Where therapy can help

Think of this as the first step. It will get you on your feet again, but it won’t answer the big questions. It’s not the whole journey.

Real healing comes from slowing things down, sitting with that pain for as long as it takes to make sense of what’s happened. It comes from understanding yourself enough to be able to accept, let go, and move on.

And that’s where therapy can help.

If you want a space where you don’t have to perform, explain yourself, or be “strong”. That’s the work I do. Plain-spoken, down-to-earth counselling for men who’ve had enough of carrying everything alone.

No pressure. No bullshit.

But for now - if you’re reading this - you’re still in the fight.

And that’s enough for today.