When Depression Is in Your Bed℠ is a podcast about what happens when life gets hard and how we find our way back to connection.
Hosted by Trish Sanders, Licensed Clinical Social Worker, Certified Advanced Imago Relationship Therapist and Relationship Coach, each episode explores the complex relationship between our nervous systems, our relationships, and our emotional well-being.
Through a blend of personal stories, professional insights, and practical tools, Trish tackles topics such as depression, communication, perfectionism, neurodivergence, self-trust, conflict, repair, empathy, boundaries, attachment, nervous system regulation, and relational healing.
With honesty, warmth, and a deep belief in people's capacity to grow, Trish helps listeners understand not only why they get stuck, but how meaningful change becomes possible.
Whether you're struggling with depression, feeling disconnected from yourself or your partner, or simply trying to navigate life with more awareness and compassion, this podcast offers a roadmap back to connection, again and again.
#82 When the Backslide Doesn't Scare You Trusting the Way Back
•Trish Sanders, LCSW•Episode 82
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What if healing isn't reaching a place where you never struggle again, but trusting yourself when you do?
When things finally start feeling better, it can be surprisingly difficult to simply enjoy them.
Instead, we may find ourselves waiting.
Wondering when the other shoe will drop. When we'll fall back into an old pattern. When depression, anxiety, overwhelm, disconnection, or some other familiar struggle will return and prove that the progress we've made wasn't real after all.
But what if returning to a familiar struggle doesn't mean returning to the beginning?
In this deeply personal episode, Trish explores a change she didn't expect to find in her own healing journey: she is no longer as afraid of backsliding as she once was.
Not because she believes she will never struggle again. But because she increasingly trusts her ability to find her way back.
Through personal reflection, practical neuroscience, and the lens of The Road to Reconnection™, Trish explores how Prediction as Protection can leave us bracing for the loss of the very things we've worked so hard to build, and how repeated experiences of navigating difficult moments can gradually create something different: self-trust.
This episode isn't about becoming so healed that nothing knocks you off balance.
It's about discovering a different kind of stability.
The kind that comes from knowing that even when your capacity narrows, even when old patterns reappear, and even when what you've learned doesn't feel immediately available, your growth hasn't disappeared.
In this episode, you'll learn:
Why a difficult day, week, or season doesn't mean you've returned to the beginning.
How the fear of backsliding can make it harder to fully participate in the moments when life is going well.
Why familiar struggles can become evidence for old stories about who we are and what we should expect from our lives.
How Prediction as Protection can leave us anticipating the next fall even while we're standing on solid ground.
Why temporarily losing access to something you've learned is different from losing the growth itself.
How self-compassion and support can help us stay with ourselves when our capacity narrows.
Why self-trust doesn't have to mean trusting yourself never to struggle.
How repeated experiences of finding your way back can gradually change your identity and what you predict about the future.
Why healing doesn't remove the difficult parts of being human, but can change the way we experience and move through them.
Maybe progress isn't about finally reaching a place where you never lose your footing.
Maybe it's realizing that losing your footing doesn't erase the road you've already traveled.
You've learned things.
You've built resources.
You've developed relationships.
You've found your way through difficult moments before.
And every time you find your way back, you're creating new evidence that you can do it again.
Eventually, the goal may not be to trust that the good moments will last forever.
For support in how to have deeper connections and better communication in the relationships that matter most in your life, follow the host, Trish Sanders on Instagram , Bluesky or LinkedIn.
Hello and welcome to the When Depression is in Your Bed podcast. Have you ever gotten to a place where things were finally going well? You felt better, maybe you were taking better care of yourself, maybe your relationship felt like it was in a better place. Maybe you were crossing things off your to-do list that had been on there for a really long time. And instead of simply being able to enjoy it, you found yourself wondering something like, when is the other shoe gonna drop? When am I going to fall off track again? I know that feeling incredibly well. Because I think when it comes to making progress, it can be scary wondering if we're ever actually going to get there. And I also think it can be scary when we start to wonder if we'll actually be able to stay there. Lately, I've been thinking about something that has profoundly changed for me. Not because I've gotten to a place where I never think I'll stumble again, but because I'm beginning to trust what will happen the next time that inevitable stumble occurs. I'm your host, Trish Sanders. I'm a licensed clinical social worker, certified Imago Relationship Therapist, relationship coach, and the creator of The Road to Reconnection. And I am delighted that you are here. Let's get started.
I've been consciously dedicated to my own healing journey for decades. And yet, so many of the changes that I've been trying to make for so long have only started consistently happening over the last several years. Of course, I haven't gotten to a place where I think that my healing journey is complete. I think that I have much more growing to do, and I think that I'll continue growing over my whole life. But I do notice that I feel a lot more confident now in the progress that I think I will continue to make because of the evidence I have of the progress I've already been making over the last several years. And looking at my journey, I've been thinking, what exactly changed to allow all of that growth to finally start happening? Certainly there's an identity piece, and I've talked many times on the podcast how for much of my life I have identified as someone who is a complete and total mess. And as you can imagine, that didn't contribute much to helping me get things in order. There was such a disconnect between what I wanted for myself and who I believe myself to be. But I've been thinking about another important piece that has been huge for me, that I've seen in myself and in Ben and in so many of my clients over the years. You finally get to a place where things seem to be going well. You're feeling better, your relationship might feel better, you might be moving your body more or taking care of yourself better. You're finally feeling like the version of yourself that you actually want to be. And then something happens. You stumble, and the old familiar struggle is back. And suddenly it can feel like a confirmation of everything that you were afraid could be true. See, this is who you really are. You can't sustain this. It's inevitable. Look where you fell back to again. I've been there myself so many times. Maybe I wasn't feeling as bad, or maybe things weren't as bad in my relationship, or maybe I found that I was able to recover more quickly. But emotionally, it still felt devastating because the struggle wasn't only the struggle. It was evidence. Evidence for an old story about who I was and what I should really expect from my life. Over the years, I have had so many conversations about this cycle with myself, with Ben, and with so many clients. Because the worst part is often not the struggle itself. What can feel so incredibly heavy is what we tell ourselves having the struggle actually means. Maybe you're feeling depressed again, or your anxiety gets activated. Maybe you notice old patterns re-emerging in your relationship, or maybe you notice your house is getting messy again, or that you haven't intentionally moved your body in a while. And suddenly it's not just about what's happening right now. It's here we go again. I knew this wouldn't last. I knew I couldn't do it. I knew I couldn't trust this. And those thoughts and the feelings that come along with them can be the most painful part of what seems to be a backslide. It doesn't just feel like we've moved a few steps backwards. It feels like we've fallen all the way back to the start and we have to begin all over again. And when you're familiar with this kind of cycle, as I certainly have been in my life, it's really easy to understand when things are going well, how you start to worry when is the other shoe going to drop.
And this makes so much sense to me through the lens that I've been calling prediction as protection. If your nervous system has repeatedly experienced things get better and then they get worse, you feel hopeful and then you struggle again. You finally find your footing and then it feels like the ground is crumbling beneath you. So of course, your nervous system starts predicting that that pattern will occur again. And feeling good can almost become a warning. Don't get too comfortable, don't think this is going to last, don't trust this. Because maybe if you expect the fall, you'll be better prepared for the landing and maybe it won't quite hurt so much. But there's a cost in living like that too. Because if we're constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, we're not really here. We're partially living in a struggle that hasn't even happened yet. There's a 21 pilot song called Backslide that I was listening to the other day. And the whole idea of that song really resonates with that fear. The fear I don't want to go back there again. I don't know if I can climb out of that hole if I fall back in. And I have certainly known that fear. But as I was listening to that song the other day, something occurred to me. I
noticed that I didn't feel that same old familiar fear about backsliding. And I found that really interesting. And certainly it's not like, okay, I'm all healed. I'm done. I've finally arrived. Absolutely not. My nervous system is going to continue acting like every other human nervous system. There will absolutely be experiences that register in my nervous system as cues of danger. And my nervous system will continue to move into self-protection at times. And sometimes my capacity may become more narrowed. That's not evidence that healing didn't work. That's evidence that I'm human. But here's what I think has changed for me. I don't take that experience anymore as evidence that I have backslid all the way to the beginning and I need to start all over. Of course, I may experience an old feeling of discomfort, or my nervous system might go into that familiar place of self-protection. I may feel overwhelmed and I may even shut down or fall into old familiar patterns. But no matter what, I'm not actually standing in exactly the same place that I've stood before. I've experienced so much as I've traveled on my journey from where I used to be. I've learned so much. I've developed resources. I've built better relationships with myself, with trusted supports, and with my husband. And I've practiced traveling the road to be able to come back. I don't experience a backslide as a total reset anymore. If I become overwhelmed tomorrow, I don't suddenly lose everything that I've learned. I don't lose all the ways that I've learned to recognize what my nervous system is communicating to me. I don't lose the experiences I've had of finding my way through something difficult. I may temporarily have less capacity available, and I may not be able to access everything that I've learned immediately. But that doesn't mean it's gone. And I think that that's a really important distinction to make.
Not available in this moment is not the same thing as gone forever. And I think that that has helped me to define what self-trust means. It's not that I trust myself to never fall apart or to always stay regulated, or that I trust that I'll never struggle the way I used to. I'm not sure that I can really promise myself any of those things, but I can increasingly say I trust myself to find my way back. More and more I trust myself to notice what's happening. I trust myself to take pause when I need. I trust myself to get curious and to reach out if I need support. I trust myself to rest. And I trust that I'm going to tune into my nervous system without immediately blaming myself for feeling like I'm struggling again. And I trust if I can't do any of those things right away, that I can sit with the discomfort for a bit. And I trust that I no longer think that I always have to handle everything all by myself. I trust that I can reach out more and more to the network that I've built and continue to build so that when I'm really in the thick of it, I don't have to be alone. And I also trust that more and more when I'm feeling stuck, I feel less of a need to push myself or judge myself and think that I'm supposed to be somewhere else. I find that I increasingly have more compassion for myself and I look for what's genuinely available to me in any particular moment and I take it from there. And I notice that the less I fight these kinds of experiences and the less I hold on so tightly to that misery or that hopelessness, the more space there is for those kinds of moments to eventually just pass. And more and more they give way to the next step that I can take so I can find my way back to the place that I really want to be. A place now that I've traveled to and practiced so many times over the past several years. And that feels like a very different kind of stability. I'm not stable because nothing will ever knock me off balance again. I feel more stable because I increasingly trust myself to be able to stay with myself in those moments when I feel off balance and I know that eventually I'll find my way back again. And that's very different from how it used to feel. In the past, when I fell off track, the story was see, you can't be consistent. You don't really know how to take care of yourself. It's going to take forever to get back to where you just were. And the especially painful, you don't even know how you got there in the first place. So how do you think you're going to return? But those old feelings and thoughts just don't come up for me in the same way that they used to. Because I know more about what truly supports me now. And every time I find my way back, I collect a little more evidence that I actually can intentionally take steps back towards the place that I really want
to be. And I think all that evidence gradually changes something even deeper. It changes what I believe about myself. For so many years, the story was I'm a mess. I can't consistently take care of myself. Even if things get better for a little while, I know that I'm going to fall back to where I started from. And today, my new story is certainly not I'm never going to struggle again. That wouldn't be realistic, and my nervous system wouldn't believe it. My new story is something more like, I'm someone who knows how to come back. And that's a completely different identity. Every time I come back, I create a little more evidence. Evidence that struggling doesn't mean I failed. Evidence that losing my footing doesn't mean I've lost the road. Evidence that I now know so much more about finding my way back than I used to. And that evidence is gradually changing what I predict. Instead of here we go again, I'm backsliding all the way back to the beginning, and I don't know if I have the strength to do this all over again. There's increasingly room for, okay, I'm struggling right now. What do I need? Who can help? What's helped me find my way back before that I might be able to use again? And here's something that feels really strange to say. I'm almost curious what the next big bump in the road will be like for me. I'm absolutely not asking for one to appear anytime soon, but over the last several years, I've watched myself move through really hard times differently. And I'm actually curious what I'll discover about myself and my capacity the next time. What will I recognize sooner? Will I reach out to someone faster? Who will I reach out to? Will I speak to myself differently? Will I be able to hold on to that idea that my struggle doesn't mean that I've lost all the progress that I've made so far? And that curiosity feels profoundly different than the fear that I've lived with for so many years. The more I reflected on this, the more I realized that one of the greatest signs of my own growth is not that I think finally that I won't ever backslide again. It's now that I have a new experience where the idea of backsliding just doesn't scare me in the same way that it used to. And as I say that, I know I might have a moment where backsliding feels scary again. And I'm totally okay with that because I think that I'll be able to hold that moment with more compassion than I ever have before. And I no longer think that progress means I'm going to get somewhere where I will never backslide again, that I'll somehow arrive at this magical place and more or less somehow stay there. I no longer hold myself to that unachievable standard of progress.
Our nervous systems are not designed to remain in one state. They are continually responding to what's happening inside of us, outside of us, and between us. Sometimes our capacity will expand, and sometimes it will narrow. Sometimes we'll feel grounded and connected, and sometimes we'll move into self-protection. Growth doesn't mean that those shifts stop happening. I think that growth means that as we continue to navigate through those experiences, we'll continue to build more and more trust that we're able to navigate through those kinds of experiences. And I think that changes the joyful moments too. Because if I don't have to try to hold on so desperately to those good moments for fear of losing them, I actually get to be there in those moments. And I can actually enjoy what's happening right now. Because I don't need to believe that a joyful moment is going to last forever in order to feel safe enough. I don't have to trust that that good feeling is going to last forever, because I can trust myself to respond to whatever comes up. For so long, I carried a narrative that if I was just good enough, healed enough, together enough, that somehow life would stop being so hard. But sometimes being human is hard. There are going to be losses, disappointments, stresses, overwhelm, and moments that our nervous system experiences as dangerous. So healing doesn't mean getting to a place that's safe enough that you'll never leave. Healing and growth can't change the experience of what it means to be human. But healing can mean that you've developed more trust in yourself, more attunement with your nervous system, that you've built more supportive networks. And as you continue to heal and grow, you find that you're traveling a new road. And even if you lose your footing and you find yourself back on a path that you used to travel, healing can help you trust that you know how to find your way back. I'm no longer trying to be someone who never loses her way. Instead, I'm finding that I'm someone who can trust herself to find her way back again and again. And I think that there's something incredibly hopeful about that. And I hope that there's something in today's conversation that feels hopeful for you too.
As our time comes to a close, I ask you to keep listening for just a few more moments. Because I want to thank you for showing up today. And I want to leave you with an invitation as you hit stop and move back out into the world on your own unique wellness journey. In order to move from where you are today to the place where you want to be, the path may seem long or unclear or unknown. And I want you to know that if that seems scary or daunting or downright terrifying or anything else, that is totally okay. Know that you do not have to create the whole way all at once. We don't travel a whole journey in one stride. And that is why my invitation to you today is to take a step, just one. Any type, any size, in any direction. It can be an external step that can be observed or measured, or it could be a step you visualize taking in your mind. It can be a step towards action or towards rest or connection or self-care or whatever step makes sense to you. I invite you to take a step today because getting to a place that feels better, more joyful, more connected than the place where you are today is possible for everyone, including you, and even when depression is in your bed. If today's episode resonated with you, please subscribe so you can be notified when each weekly episode gets released. I encourage you to leave a review and reach out to me on social media at trish.sanders.lcsw. Your feedback will help guide future episodes, and I love hearing from you. Also, please share this podcast with anyone who you think may be interested or who may get something from what I have shared. Until the next time we connect, take care of yourself and take a step.
