Hope. One four letter word but vital. Two months ago my marriage ended, I lost my hope, I didn't think I'd ever feel better. In an effort to conquer the pain I focused all my hope on doing a university course, thinking if I could get through that I could overcome.

Then anxiety came a-knocking, took any hope I had and any confidence in my abilities. I felt hope-less; crushed by the critical voices I withdrew from the course and I am so disappointed with myself.

The anxiety has engulfed me, encroaching on every area of my life. Questions flood in... what am I doing with my life? Will I forever be stuck in dead end jobs because of my anxiety? How will I ever feel OK in my own skin again? How do people do life? How do they have faith and push forward and achieve?

Right now I feel I have forgotten to grow up. I'm 33, living in a friend's spare room, working two jobs that do not allow me to use my skills. Broke, lost and scared.

But the other day I remembered about hope. I have that little 4 letter word tattooed on my back, done in a dark time over 10 years ago. I was hope-full then, that the depression would lift and I would come back to myself.

Right now I am struggling to find hope in things, I feel boxed in by my fear. Thoughts come thick and fast - You are pointless. You are worthless. You will never get a good job. You will never achieve anything. You will never see the world because you're too broke. Your friends will leave you because you're a drain. No-one will want to know you if you're honest about how you feel.

I search online for quick fixes - I try mindfulness, positive affirmations, exercise, pushing through, in a frantic and flighty way. Hoping something will stick and save me from myself.

This morning after a fairly sleepless night I was ready to throw the towel in, take to my bed and surrender. But I found a glimmer of hope, I'd booked a yoga class and arranged to see a friend. If I could only get up and out then maybe just maybe it would help a little.

I did it. I went to yoga. I saw my friend. I was honest about where I'm at. She encouraged me, gave me hope. Bolstered by this I took the next positive step and braved the shops to buy a box file to sort papers I have had lying on the floor since I moved 4 weeks ago.

Small triumphs, little steps. Reasons to hope for a brighter day. I'll keep you posted.

What gives you hope in dark times?

Love from

Down the well

A Moodscope member.