10 Ways to Find a Little Light When Life Feels Heavy
By Rachel Fleischman, LCSW, REAT
In 2008, I sat down and wrote an article that began with two words:
Depression stinks.
Eighteen years later, I still agree.
I recently rediscovered that piece, and reading it was like opening a little time capsule. There I was, a younger psychotherapist, full of conviction, humor, curiosity, and an enormous belief in our capacity to heal.
I had already spent years sitting with people who were struggling with depression. I'd read countless books, explored different approaches to treatment, and devoted much of my professional life to understanding emotional suffering.
But I also shared something deeply personal.
I knew depression from the inside.
I wasn't just a psychotherapist. I had been a client, too.
And that lived experience helped me understand something that no textbook could fully teach me: how exhausting it can be to move through the world when everything feels heavy.
How difficult it can be to get dressed, return a phone call, or make a simple decision.
How cruel our own thoughts can become.
How lonely it can feel when the rest of the world appears to be getting on with life.
And how desperately we sometimes want to feel like ourselves again.
Back then, I called my article 10 Tricks to Kick Depression Out of Bed and Snuggle Up With Joy Instead.
I have to smile at that title.
It's so wonderfully 2008.
A little cheeky. A little irreverent. And very much me.
I still love its spirit, although today I'd probably replace the word tricks with invitations.
Because if eighteen more years of living, learning, loving, struggling, dancing, and practicing psychotherapy have taught me anything, it's this:
We cannot bully ourselves into feeling better. But we can lovingly create conditions that make feeling better a little more possible.
So, here are my original ten ideas, revisited with the benefit of time, experience, and a little more tenderness.
1. Get Out of Your Head and Into Your Feet
This was my very first suggestion in 2008.
And wouldn't you know it? It's still one of my favorites.
I wrote about how daunting exercise can feel when you're depressed. The thought of dragging yourself to a gym, surrounded by energetic people in fabulous workout clothes, can be enough to send you straight back under the covers.
I still believe movement can be wonderfully helpful.
But today, I'm even more interested in how we feel when we move than in how much exercise we accomplish.
A little swaying in the kitchen.
A short walk around the block.
Rolling our shoulders.
Stretching toward the ceiling.
Dancing to a song we loved when we were twenty.
Our bodies don't need us to perform.
They need us to listen.
And sometimes movement can help us feel a little less trapped inside our thoughts.
Try this: Put on one song and let your body move however it wants. No choreography. No expectations. Just a few minutes of coming back to yourself.
2. Turn On the Music. Now!
In 2008, I suggested keeping an arsenal of inspiring music nearby.
I even made CDs for clients!
Remember CDs?
Before streaming playlists and music libraries in our pockets, we made mixtapes, burned discs, and carefully selected songs for people we loved.
I knew even then that music could reach us in ways that words sometimes couldn't.
I still see this in my work with Dance Your Bliss.
A familiar melody can stir a memory. A beautiful piece of music can invite tears. An irresistible rhythm can awaken a part of us that has been quiet for a very long time.
Music doesn't need to make us instantly happy.
Sometimes the right song simply helps us feel understood.
And that, too, is healing.
Try this: Create a small playlist of five songs that feel like companions. Include music that comforts you, music that moves you, and at least one song that makes you want to get up and dance.
3. Let There Be Light
My original article encouraged readers to get outside, sit in the sunshine, and bring more light into their lives.
I was especially concerned about the darker days of autumn and winter.
I still am.
Our relationship with light matters. For some people, shorter days can contribute to seasonal depression, and properly designed bright-light therapy can be an effective treatment.
But I've also come to appreciate the simple beauty of stepping outdoors.
Feeling the air on our skin.
Noticing the sky.
Looking up from our screens.
Watching the changing light on a building or a tree.
These small experiences can reconnect us with the world beyond our worries.
Try this: Give yourself a few minutes outdoors in the morning, if you can. If seasonal depression is a concern, talk with a qualified clinician about whether light therapy is appropriate for you.
4. Spend Time With Our Four-Legged Friends
Oh, how I love that this made my original list!
In 2008, I wrote about the comfort of animals and the wonderful feeling of being near a beloved companion.
Eighteen years later, I wouldn't change the heart of this suggestion.
There's something deeply comforting about sitting beside an animal who asks so little of us.
No need to explain ourselves.
No need to be entertaining.
No need to have the right words.
A dog resting its head on our knee.
A cat curling up beside us.
The quiet rhythm of another living being.
Animals can offer companionship, comfort, affection, and moments of connection that make difficult days feel a little softer.
Try this: Spend a few unhurried minutes with an animal you love. If you don't have one, perhaps visit a friend with a friendly pet.
5. Change the Conversation in Your Head
This is one of the places where my thinking has evolved the most.
In 2008, I wrote enthusiastically about changing negative thoughts and using affirmations.
I still believe the words we tell ourselves matter enormously.
But I've become much less interested in replacing every difficult thought with a cheerful one.
Sometimes life really is hard.
Sometimes we're grieving, frightened, overwhelmed, or exhausted.
And telling ourselves to think positively can feel like one more impossible assignment.
What I encourage today is something gentler.
What if, instead of arguing with our thoughts, we became curious about them?
What if we noticed when our inner voice was being particularly unkind?
What if we spoke to ourselves as we would to someone we deeply loved?
Instead of:
I'm failing at everything.
Perhaps:
I'm having a difficult time, and I'm doing the best I can.
Instead of:
Nothing is ever going to change.
Perhaps:
I don't know what comes next, but I don't have to figure everything out today.
These aren't magical promises.
They're small ways of creating a little more room to breathe.
Try this: Notice one harsh thought today and see whether you can respond with something more compassionate and believable.
6. Make Room for a Life That Delights You
In my original piece, I called this "following a joyous lifestyle."
I still like the intention behind those words.
But today I might ask a different question:
What makes you feel alive?
Not what makes you impressive.
Not what makes you productive.
Not what looks good on social media.
What genuinely brings you pleasure, curiosity, connection, or a feeling of being more yourself?
Maybe it's making art.
Cooking something beautiful.
Learning a language.
Visiting a garden.
Taking a dance class.
Singing with other people.
Or spending an afternoon with absolutely nothing on the agenda.
When we're depressed, enjoyment may feel very far away. We may not even want to do the things we once loved.
That's a real part of depression, not a personal failure.
But gently returning to meaningful activities, sometimes before the desire arrives, can be an important part of recovery.
Try this: Choose one small activity you used to enjoy. Approach it with curiosity rather than pressure. You don't have to feel wonderful afterward for the experience to matter.
7. Use Words That Open Doors
Back in 2008, I was fascinated by the power of language.
I still am.
Think about the difference between these two sentences:
I have to get through another day.
And:
What might help me through today?
Neither sentence denies that life can be difficult.
But the second creates a little space.
A little curiosity.
A possibility that something helpful might exist.
Over the years, I've become particularly fond of the word yet.
I don't know how to do this.
Yet.
I haven't found my way through this.
Yet.
I don't feel like myself.
Yet.
Of course, not every problem has a simple solution, and no single word can cure depression.
But language can sometimes soften the edges of our experience and remind us that the present moment isn't necessarily the whole story.
Try this: Notice one sentence you repeat to yourself and experiment with making it a little kinder, a little more spacious, or a little more hopeful.
8. Give Yourself Something to Look Forward To
In 2008, I encouraged readers to grab hold of a goal.
A doable one.
I still believe in this, with one important addition.
The goal must be small enough to meet us where we actually are.
When we're depressed, enormous goals can feel overwhelming.
We don't necessarily need a five-year plan.
Sometimes we need a reason to get out of bed on Saturday morning.
A visit to the farmers market.
Coffee with a friend.
A new book.
A class we've been curious about.
A little creative project.
Something that reminds us there are experiences still waiting for us.
I love the idea of planting small seeds of anticipation.
Not because tomorrow must be better than today.
But because having something to move toward can make the days feel a little less empty.
Try this: Put one small, enjoyable thing on your calendar this week. Let it be something for you.
9. Connect With Something Larger Than Yourself
My younger self wrote about cultivating a relationship with the divine.
Reading those words today, I recognize the longing beneath them.
A longing for meaning.
For faith.
For reassurance that we are part of something larger than our individual struggles.
For some people, that connection comes through prayer or religious life.
For others, it comes through nature, art, music, meditation, community, or a sense of wonder.
I don't believe there is one right way to experience it.
What matters is discovering the places where we feel connected to something beyond our immediate concerns.
Sometimes that happens in a house of worship.
Sometimes beneath an enormous tree.
Sometimes in a room full of people singing.
And sometimes on a dance floor, when we suddenly feel part of something beautiful and shared.
Try this: Spend a little time somewhere that gives you a sense of wonder or belonging. No need to define the experience. Simply notice how it feels.
10. Surround Yourself With People Who Help You Feel More Like You
My final suggestion in 2008 was to choose joyous companions.
I was enthusiastic about seeking out people who believed in us.
I still am!
But eighteen years later, I would make an important distinction.
We don't need everyone around us to be cheerful.
And we certainly don't need to be cheerful ourselves.
What we need are people with whom we can be real.
People who can sit beside us on a hard day.
People who don't rush to fix us.
People who can laugh with us when laughter comes and listen when it doesn't.
People who remind us, through their presence, that we don't have to carry everything alone.
Connection is not about surrounding ourselves with relentlessly positive people.
It's about finding relationships where there's room for our whole humanity.
The messy parts.
The frightened parts.
The hopeful parts.
And, yes, the wonderfully silly parts.
Try this: Reach out to one person with whom you feel safe being yourself. You don't need a special occasion or a brilliant reason. Sometimes a simple "I've been thinking of you" is enough.
What Eighteen Years Have Taught Me
When I look back at that younger woman writing in 2008, I feel tremendous affection for her.
She was passionate about helping people.
She believed deeply in the healing potential of movement, music, connection, and joy.
She wanted people who were suffering to know that possibilities still existed.
I still believe all those things.
But today, I hold them with greater gentleness.
I know that depression is not something we can simply dance, walk, affirm, or think our way out of.
It can be a serious illness that deserves thoughtful professional care, and sometimes that includes psychotherapy, medication, and other evidence-based treatments.
These ten invitations are not substitutes for that care. They are ways to support ourselves alongside it.
I've also learned that joy is not an obligation.
We don't need to turn every difficult moment into a lesson.
We don't need to find a silver lining in everything.
And we don't need to make feeling happy another item on our already overwhelming to-do lists.
Sometimes healing is about resting.
Sometimes it's about accepting help.
Sometimes it's about allowing ourselves to feel what we feel.
And sometimes, quite unexpectedly, it's about hearing a song we love and discovering that our feet still remember how to dance.
I think that's what my younger self was reaching for all those years ago.
Not the idea that we should always be happy.
But the possibility that even in difficult times, there may still be little openings toward life.
A connection.
A moment of beauty.
A flash of laughter.
A little movement.
A glimmer of hope.
In 2008, I wanted to kick depression out of bed and snuggle up with joy.
In 2026, I'd rather pull up a chair beside someone who's struggling, offer them a little kindness, and remind them that they don't have to find their way back alone.
And when they're ready?
We might just put on some music.
With love,
Rachel 💗
Rachel Fleischman, LCSW, REAT, is a psychotherapist, educator, and founder of Dance Your Bliss, bringing together movement, expressive arts, and emotional well-being to help people reconnect with themselves and the joy of being alive.
