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The Comeback Code: How to Rise from a Downward Spiral Without Relying on Anyone

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Jul 4

How to rise from a downward spiral begins with recognizing that even the smallest action—like getting out of bed or taking a breath—can be the first step back to yourself. You don't need a perfect plan to begin healing; learning how to rise from a downward spiral means choosing progress over perfection, one choice at a time.

The Comeback Code: How to Rise from a Downward Spiral Without Relying on Anyone

There’s a moment in every downward spiral where everything feels like it’s closing in. Time blurs. Days pass with little memory of what you did, or if you did anything at all. The motivation you once had vanishes, replaced by apathy or dread. Well-meaning friends might say, “Just talk to someone” or “You don’t have to do this alone.” But what if you are alone? Or what if you simply can’t bring yourself to reach out?


Sometimes, the path out of the darkness doesn’t start with someone else pulling you up—it starts with you deciding, even in your lowest moment, that you’re not going to stay there.



Step 1: Interrupt the Spiral


Downward spirals feed on sameness. The same thoughts loop in your head. The same routines—or lack thereof—play out every day. That monotony becomes quicksand, making it feel impossible to move. But there’s a trick: you don’t have to make massive changes to interrupt it. You just need to do one thing deliberately different.


Take a shower in the dark. Wear something you haven't worn in months. Rearrange your room. Walk down a different street. These aren’t just distractions—they’re signals to your brain that you still have agency. The key is to shock the system just enough to say, “I’m still here, and I can make a different choice.”


Step 2: Become Your Own Observer


When you're spiraling, emotions feel like facts. Sadness whispers that you’re a failure. Anxiety screams that you’re falling behind. It’s easy to believe these voices because they sound like your own. But one powerful tool is to shift from participant to observer.


Ask yourself: What just triggered this feeling? What story am I telling myself right now? Would I say the same thing to a friend in this position? By asking these questions, you create space between you and the emotion. That space is where you can start making thoughtful, intentional decisions instead of reactive ones. Observation leads to awareness—and awareness is the first step toward clarity.


Step 3: Commit to One Micro-Discipline


When you’re at your lowest, the idea of fixing everything feels impossible. So don’t. Instead, choose one small, non-negotiable act each day. Drink a full glass of water every morning. Step outside and feel the air on your skin for 60 seconds. Write one honest sentence in a journal.


These micro-disciplines may seem insignificant, but they’re not. They’re proof that you’re still showing up for yourself. They build momentum. They rebuild self-trust. And over time, they remind you that change doesn’t require a giant leap—it starts with a single, steady step.



Step 4: Cut the Noise


A major reason we spiral deeper is that our minds are crowded with unhelpful noise. Social media, toxic comparisons, perfectionism, and a constant stream of bad news all amplify our sense of failure or fear. Taking a break from this noise isn’t avoidance—it’s self-preservation.


Try a 24-hour digital detox. Mute or unfollow any account that makes you feel less-than, even if it belongs to someone you know. Create a space where your own thoughts can breathe. Without the external pressure to perform, compete, or “keep up,” you’ll find it easier to reconnect with your own voice—and that voice matters most.


Step 5: Rebuild Trust With Yourself


One of the most painful parts of spiraling is losing trust in yourself. You miss deadlines, cancel plans, or make promises you don’t keep. You might start thinking, “I can’t even trust myself to get out of bed.” But trust isn’t rebuilt overnight—it’s earned, slowly, through follow-through.


Pick one goal—small and manageable. Follow through on it. Then do it again the next day. The size of the goal doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re proving to yourself, “I do what I say I’ll do.” Over time, these tiny commitments grow into confidence, and that confidence is what will carry you out of the pit.


You don’t need to be rescued by someone else to begin healing. The journey back from the spiral doesn’t require perfection, or even a full plan—it just requires movement. One step. One decision. One moment where you say, “I’m not done yet.”


So even if no one’s coming, even if you feel completely alone, you’re not powerless. You’re still here. And that means you can still fight.


If no one came to save you—what would it look like to become your own rescue story?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



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Not for Display: The Quiet Revolution of Women Reclaiming Themselves

  • Writer: Linda Liu | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
    Linda Liu | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
  • Jul 2
Not for Display: The Quiet Revolution of Women Reclaiming Themselves

When I was an undergraduate, I spent a summer interning at a public school in a small Chinese city where my relatives work. I noticed a disturbing trend: the quietest, most reserved girls were often assigned to sit next to the most disruptive boys—sometimes even known bullies. Confused, I asked a teacher why this was the case. "We've always done it this way," she replied. "It helps keep the class in order." I pushed further—why not pair those boys with calm boys instead? She paused. Then repeated, "We've always done it this way."


When I asked how they compensated these girls for bearing that emotional burden, the teacher said, "We praise them for being so mature."


But I wanted to scream: since when did being silent become a girl's job? And since when did "being mature" mean enduring more?



Early Conditioning


Girls around the world are taught—through media, school, family, and culture—to see themselves not through their own eyes, but through others’. In East Asian contexts especially, girls learn early that being "obedient," "quiet," "pretty but not provocative" is what earns approval. They're encouraged to be passive, to endure discomfort, and to regulate their behavior for the sake of others. Meanwhile, boys are often praised for being bold, disruptive, and ambitious. Male curiosity is framed as exploration; female curiosity, as a threat.


Popular media reinforces these roles. Early Disney films taught girls that passivity leads to reward—Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella are all "saved" by male heroes. Female protagonists rarely solve their own problems; instead, they are rewarded for their beauty, compliance, and suffering. In contrast, male heroes undergo growth arcs based on courage, agency, and self-realization.


The problem runs deeper in contemporary cinema. In The Flowers of War, the real-life bravery of Minnie Vautrin—a U.S. female missionary who protected thousands of Chinese women during the Nanjing Massacre—is rewritten into a narrative centered around a white male priest who becomes the savior. In Heroes in Harm's Way, a real story about an epileptic boy who accidentally removed a nurse's mask during pandemics is reimagined with a mischievous little girl as the culprit, subtly shifting blame onto a female body. Meanwhile, Memoirs of a Geisha, Scent of a Woman, and Malèna transform women into objects of erotic mystery—loved not for who they are, but for how they make men feel.


Even sports entertainment isn't immune: Many professional female cheerleaders would love to express strength, athleticism, and artistry—but in leagues like the NBA or NFL, systemic expectations often confine them to narrowly defined roles that prioritize sex appeal over personal expression. WNBA games, however, don’t include male cheerleaders in equivalent sexy outfits—because the system was never designed to serve the female gaze.


As Fredrickson and Roberts (1997) explain in Objectification Theory, girls internalize these cues early, learning to see themselves as objects to be evaluated. Naomi Wolf (1991) calls this the "beauty myth"—a system designed to keep women consumed by their appearance rather than their power.



Internalization & Mental Health Impact


In many East Asian cultures, girls are subjected to early and rigid appearance-based conditioning. Beauty is narrow—fair skin, slender limbs, soft voice, modest dress. A girl must be good before she is loud, small before she is heard. If she excels academically, she hears, "Boys are smarter in the long run." If she rebels, she hears, "Girls shouldn't act like that."


In many Western cultures, girls experience a different but equally harmful pressure: early sexualization. They are encouraged to be sexy but not slutty, confident but not loud, desirable but always in control of their desirability. This creates an exhausting double bind. As Gill (2007) notes, this postfeminist sensibility rebrands self-objectification as empowerment, while Tolman (2002) shows how early sexualization leads to chronic self-surveillance and boundary confusion.


The result comes to low self-esteem, body shame, anxiety, depression, eating disorders, and an overwhelming sense of never being enough.


Healing & Reclaiming Agency


But healing is happening. More and more women are seeking therapy—not because they are broken, but because they want to reconnect with the parts of themselves that were silenced. They're learning to reparent their inner child, to question the rules they were taught, and to define their own worth.


They're exploring body neutrality—the idea that a body doesn't have to be beautiful to be valuable. For example, try to tell yourself: my body is healthy, it can help me shine in the workplace and enjoy life, it does not need to meet everyone’s expectations.  That a body is worthy because it houses life, not because it earns likes.


Today, women are building communities with other women—places where they can talk honestly about shame, fear, and joy. Where being heard is not a privilege, but a practice. This piece is not written about women, but with them. We are not objects to be dissected, improved, or pitied. We are participants in a quiet revolution—reclaiming our right to take up space, to feel safe in our skin, to matter beyond how we look.


Women are not for display, and we were never meant to be. The world may teach us to shrink, but we are learning to expand.


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



References:

Fredrickson, B. L., & Roberts, T.-A. (1997). Objectification theory: Toward understanding women’s lived experiences and mental health risks. Psychology of Women Quarterly, 21(2), 173–206. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1471-6402.1997.tb00108.x


Gill, R. (2007). Gender and the media. Polity Press.


Tolman, D. L. (2002). Dilemmas of desire: Teenage girls talk about sexuality. Harvard University Press.


Wolf, N. (1991). The beauty myth: How images of beauty are used against women. Harper Perennial.


American Psychological Association, Task Force on the Sexualization of Girls. (2007). Report of the APA Task Force on the Sexualization of Girls. https://www.apa.org/pi/women/programs/girls/report-full.pdf


Carlie Malott

Linda Liu

Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer of Moody Melon Magazine

I am a graduate student at the University of Minnesota, passionate about fostering authentic human connection and emotional well-being in professional and personal spaces. I am a certified Mental Health First Aider by the National Council for Mental Wellbeing. I write to honor vulnerability, resilience, and hope.

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The Beautiful Mess: Why Struggle Isn’t the Enemy

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Jun 29

Struggle is often the very thing that shapes our resilience and reveals what truly matters to us. We spend so much time avoiding discomfort, yet struggle isn’t the enemy; avoidance is.

The Beautiful Mess: Why Struggle Isn’t the Enemy

There’s a quiet pressure in our world to be okay all the time — to bounce back quickly, to stay positive, to be “fine.” Struggling is often seen as a detour from the life we’re supposed to be living. But what if the struggle is the life?


Think about it. Some of the most meaningful changes you’ve made likely came from discomfort — heartbreak that made you reevaluate your worth, burnout that taught you to set boundaries, failure that finally forced you to ask for help. We don’t grow despite struggle. We grow through it.


Like the woman who left a toxic corporate job after months of anxiety, only to rediscover her creativity and launch her own small business — something she’d never have dared to try otherwise.



Struggle Is Not a Symptom of Weakness


Let’s be clear: struggling is not a sign that you’re doing something wrong. It’s a sign that you’re alive, adapting, becoming. In therapy, we often talk about distress tolerance — the idea that building the ability to sit with hard emotions is a skill, not a punishment. The same goes for life: facing hard things doesn’t make you broken, it makes you human.


Often, we expect that if we were doing everything “right,” we wouldn’t feel pain. But life doesn’t work that way. We can eat well, stay mindful, love deeply, and still lose someone we care about. Still get laid off. Still go through heartbreak. Still wake up anxious for no clear reason.


We can’t control what may befall us — not always. But we can decide how we meet ourselves in those moments.


The Wisdom Inside Pain


Pain slows us down — and in a world obsessed with speed, that feels unbearable. But in that slowness is clarity. We notice things. We reflect. We uncover values we didn’t know we had: resilience, compassion, courage.


So often, it’s not until we’re forced to stop — by grief, illness, rejection, or change — that we begin to ask deeper questions. Who am I, really? What matters to me when the noise is gone? For example, after a painful divorce, J.K. Rowling devoted her time to writing stories for her children — and ended up inspiring millions of children worldwide to fall in love with reading.


Pain opens the door to insight — not because it’s noble or romantic, but because it’s honest. It forces us to live in truth, even when it’s hard.


Struggles Teach Us What We’re Made Of


Ever heard someone say, “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but I wouldn’t take it back”? That’s the strange gift of struggle. It reveals the depth of your inner life. It shows you where your strength lives.


We often think we know who we are — until life throws something at us we didn’t ask for. A diagnosis. A betrayal. A layoff. That’s when our internal compass really starts to work. That’s when we learn what we’re capable of, what we can hold, and who we want to be through it all.


Struggles ask us to pay attention. They wake us up from autopilot. And while that awakening can hurt, it’s also an invitation: to grow more honest, more grounded, and more alive.


We can't always prevent the hard things — but we can decide whether they shape us or shut us down.


The Truth Is: We Don’t Have to Be “Fine”


There’s no shame in finding life hard. It is hard — and beautiful, and boring, and overwhelming, and everything in between. We live in a culture that tells us to push through and move on, but sometimes, the most courageous thing we can do is pause. Sit with the mess. Let it teach us.


We can hold two things at once: “This is painful” and “I’m still okay.” “I’m grieving” and “I’m growing.” “This isn’t what I wanted” and “I’m finding new parts of myself I never knew were there.”



We can’t always control what befalls us. But we can choose to stay curious, open, and gentle with ourselves as we move through it.


So the next time you find yourself asking, “Why is this happening to me?” — try asking this instead:


What might this struggle be here to show me about who I really am?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



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