DIARY OF A MENTAL CRASH AND RECLAIMING BALANCE
Empower Your Living
December 9, 2025 · 14 min read
December 9, 2025 · 14 min read
It’s December 1 — a good four months into my adventure — and I have hit rock bottom! If I had to be on a plane home tomorrow, I would not fight it.
I am on a journey of a lifetime but all I sense is utter exhaustion. The fabric of my body feels like a garment that has been worn for ages. The threads are coming undone. As much as I am trying to shed it, it is deeply intertwined with my skin. My heart is cemented in concrete and is listless. I can’t feel joy or much of anything else.
In the last 24 hours, the week’s happenings have crashed down on me. My nervous system is unraveled. Taken over by a sluggish brain, a fluttering solar plexus and a desperate need to just sleep and not have to feel anything.
What happened?
A mental crash does not just happen like that. There are many tiny triggers that build up to the point where the body and the brain are no longer able to absorb it. The last week of November was such a week. With my arrival at a new destination, things were coming unhinged.
My scuba dives got moved back daily due to heavy winds. My rational brain could understand it, but my emotional one was upset and sad. I took advantage and finished writing my Canadian Travel Update. And I took care of some loose ends on my upcoming destinations and other unresolved issues. Sounds all doable, right? Yes, when things are going smoothly — which they didn’t.
Basically every “problem” I tried to resolve ended up taking days and even weeks to get responses. And some situations are still not fully settled! So, my brain needs to remember a gazillion things while deadlines loom. And since we are in “humanless” territory, one can no longer talk to a person and get a swift solution. All’s done with AI bots, which are 95% of the time completely useless. Good luck for the future of brainlessness!
Also, the flat I was staying at was a dark place and some other bothersome issues didn’t make me feel at home. Having a place to retreat, recharge and feel good is extremely important to me. I tried to make do but I could feel how unnerved I was.
Then finally, after three days of mentally going “mad”, the wind let up and the boats could leave the harbor again. The scuba diver in me was overjoyed, the human rather anxious. Seven dives packed into two days was not something I usually do. Because I know how taxing it can be, not just the diving but also being out on the water. But hey, I came here for the diving. I persuaded myself that all will be fine, when my intuition was in doubt. I overruled it and went along with the crammed program. It turns out my intuition was right.
After two full-on dive days, I had two days of driving to my next destination. It was all too much for my nervous system. I could already feel it the night after the first dives — I was not able to find any rest. My body had already been acting up for some time, with hideous back pains. The new globetrotter’s illness!
December 1
After 15 hours in bed, lying awake for parts of it, I push myself to get up and get on my yoga mat — something that always grounds me. Not today. Excruciating neck and shoulder pain make it hard for me to flow in the movements. Meditation becomes a torture, with a feeling of my collarbone bursting through my skin. The music from my AirPods is being dissected into strange sounds by my brain, sometimes I feel animals creeping up on me. It gets so unreal that I have to stop. It feels like I am hallucinating. And no, I am not making this up to make the story more dramatic!
It’s 3 pm by the time I have breakfast, Greek yogurt with fresh papaya and berries. My stomach can not receive anything else. I am also a bit cautious as for the last couple of days I have had some problems with my digestion, which is very rare. More signs that my body is out of whack.
In the middle of the night, at 2:45 am, I cancel my scuba diving for today, because I know that it is the right thing to do. Apparently, a lucid moment to realize that my wellbeing is more important than possibly losing money for this lastminute cancellation. I don’t know yet if I will be able to do any of the three remaining dive days. I am too energy drained to even care anymore. That says a lot about how deep in the trenches I am.
I decide to start writing this blog post and feel that it helps me bring some clarity to my thoughts. But also to realize that the traveling pace I’d been going at has finally caught up with me. Every day I am exposed to extraordinary situations and often in a much higher frequency than during my everyday life at home. I am speaking different languages, dealing with other cultural habits, not being in familiar surroundings and interacting with strangers. But what I am starting to miss most is the connections with people who know me. Having genuine conversations and not just superfluous chats with strangers.
December 2
I get up around 9 am after a more restful night. I still need to mentally push myself to not simply turn around and go back to sleep. It’s a beautiful day — based on the forecast the best of the week. Planned was a dive-free day that I wanted to spend at a quiet beach. A glimpse of hope sparkles that I can do just that. But first I have a meeting with my yoga mat, even though I feel utterly exhausted. I lie there, do a few movements and watch the birds. It was a good start.
By the time I roll up my mat I know that I don’t have the strength to go to the beach. I don’t even manage to get off the property to have some lunch in the village. I am not ready to face anybody. And my appetite is at an absolute low — very uncommon for me. I cancel tomorrow’s afternoon dive. Two days left, if I am up for it. More and more I see the power in just concentrating on my recuperation. It feels good. It feels aligned.
I am even able to take care of a few admin things but limit myself to one hour. Only the most pressing — anything else can wait. Some things even for after when I get back home to Switzerland. It works when I set these boundaries. I am glad that my brain starts opening up some capacities to access tools that help me re-balance my nervous system step by step.
While my logical brain knows why I am in this distraught state, my emotional brain is still in a thick fog. It’s OK. One step at a time, at my own pace, I will get to the other side of the darkness.
Early afternoon, my dear friend Jenna, sends me a message to see how I am holding up. It feels so good to know I am not completely alone in this whirlwind of an emotional storm. She offers a talk that I happily take her up on. I have a sense of rejuvenation after our call. Thank you, Jenna, for reaching out when I needed a friend.
As the sun sets, I feel much lighter than I did the last couple of days. I remind myself that I am in a place that is familiar to me — a place that I know, that I feel comfortable in and that provides the space and quiet I so desperately need right now — and that I can take it as slow as I need to.
December 3
Another night of 12 hours sleep. The cobwebs are still lingering in my brain but not as condensed. Although it takes me a bit longer to get out of bed and onto the yoga mat, my morning practice is the most structured and varied since I hit rock bottom. It gives me hope.
I text the dive center to see if I can move tomorrows dive to the afternoon. I have the urge to get in the water and be in my element with Mother Earth. Their answer mid-afternoon is no, as I am the only diver and they need at least two people (The same old story I hear constantly. The downside of being a solo traveler.). I give myself a push and tell them I’m coming in the morning. I feel strong enough and know that getting under water will be healing.
I even make a plan to walk into the village to have some tacos at the Beach Shak that I so love going to. I am slowly awakening, making tiny plans to get out of my lifeless bubble. It is a good feeling.
As I am savoring my breakfast with the usual Greek yogurt and fruits, I am watching the birds in the garden. One hummingbird is exceptionally friendly and comes to say hi up close. It’s crazy how these little flickers of light have a huge impact on my mental balance. I’m grateful I can recognize it.
Another of those sunrays was my neighbors coming to greet me personally. It was such a lovely gesture. While we were talking about our travels a fox comes and visits us. First, we thought it was a cat but the thick tail made us realize that it was Mister Fox. Beautiful encounters, both.
December 4
After a rather unsettled night I wake up at 6 am and decide to turn the lights on and I take my time to fully wake up. Although it was not the most restful nights, I feel clarity again for the first time in days. I need to be at the dive center at 8 am, so I have plenty of time and eat my breakfast on my private patio.
As I am getting ready and pack up my things, I realize how excited I am to be out in the water soon. Although the weather is very reluctant and the sun seems far away. At the dive center I meet an old friend, Manuel, one of my favorite dive masters. We have been diving together since my very first visit here two years ago. He is happy and surprised to see me and gives me a bear hug. It’s the little things that have a huge effect.
Off we go. It feels wonderful to be diving and it clears away the cobwebs instantly. I feel like a fish in the water, free and those demoralizing thoughts miles away. Unfortunately, the return to the dive center is anything but pleasurable (I don’t want to get into the details as this only feeds the negative energy more.).
December 5
The night was very wet and the day will be bringing more rain. The yoga mat is calling me first thing after I get up and I savor the 90 minutes practice. I am deeply grateful to have found that connection again and it leaves me grounded and ready to tackle the rainy and chilly day (so unusual for this time of year to have such weather).
Before I have breakfast, I give in to my intuition’s nudge and cancel the remaining two dive days. The upsetting encounter at the dive center the day before made me realize that I didn’t want to dive again, even though I booked with another dive center. There is a tiny moment of FOMO but I know it is the right decision. I pick up my equipment at the dive center and hope the wetsuit dries before I get on the next plane in a couple of days.
Luckily there is no one at the compound I am staying at and the house next to my Casita is empty, so I can use the dry patio and inside living room to finish my blog. From the corner of my eye, I can see the birds fly around in the beautiful garden. Connecting with Mother Nature feels really good.
The Silver Lining
The past four days since I hit rock bottom have been challenging. I still feel the residue of it and know that it will take more time to fully regain my strength and capacity to make major decisions. It’s all good.
Once again, I realize that when nothing goes as planned, everything is dark and the body responds with complete exhaustion, the only way to move forward is letting it all go — to completely surrender. To basically not give a sh** anymore. Trust me that is not easy to do as there is still a flicker of hope that when I just do this one last thing all will be good again. The reality: It simply does not work that way.
This experience gives me the chance to have a real close look at what has been surfacing again and again. Not always in such a forceful way, but nevertheless enough often to have a real close clock to go deeper within and to find answers.
What has always helped me deal with such incidents is my ability to disassemble the fine layers. But also, to be brutally honest with myself. Having someone to share my emotions and findings with is a game changer. Thank you, Jenna, for being my sparring partner in this episode. Our exchanges — mostly through WhatsApp messages — were a life saver. I felt seen and heard and your thoughts helped me to make more sense of what was going through my head. This enabled me to remember that I have tools that help me one step at the time to come back to myself. To the fabulous but sometimes complicated layers of me and the Drama Queen that I can be.
All I can say: Everything happens for a reason that is bigger than our understanding in the moment of being in the epicenter of the storm. My tool will always be my yoga and meditation practice. One small step at a time. But it also became very clear to me that my intuition is right and that I need to listen to it! No buts and ifs, just full-on trust.
Notes:
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