Not Feeling Like Yourself? Anxiety and Overwhelm Explained
written by Geneve Hendry, Holistic Counsellor | ACCPH | FHT No. 222568
written by Geneve Hendry, Holistic Counsellor | ACCPH | FHT No. 222568
You might not feel like yourself lately.
You may feel anxious, or overwhelmed, or just a bit unsettled, without fully understanding why. And often, when you try to explain it, it doesn’t quite come out clearly — just a sense that something isn’t quite right.
For many people, this experience is difficult to put into words, but it is more common than you might think.
In my years working with children and adults, and through my own lived experience, I often found myself coming back to the same question: why do some people, despite trauma, seem to find a way through, while others feel completely overwhelmed by it?
South Africa, where I was born, is a beautiful place with the most incredible people and landscapes — and at the same time, there is often a lot of trauma woven into everyday life. And I think that’s where some of these questions began for me. How is it that, even within this, people are still able to find moments of joy, connection, and meaning? It wasn’t that life was easier. There just seemed to be something else happening beneath the surface.
And then my own lived experiences — of people I have loved and lost, who struggled deeply at times — brought that question even closer. What is it that helps someone keep going when things become incredibly heavy, while someone else can feel completely stuck in it?
I studied many psychological theories, and I valued them. I worked hard to understand them, sat exams where negative marking was the standard, and tried to apply what I had learned. But even then, something didn’t quite sit right. It felt as though I was either missing something, or perhaps applying things in a way that didn’t quite match what I was seeing in real life.
In my counselling work, and just in meeting people over time, I began to notice patterns — not in a fixed or formulaic way, but in the way people related to themselves when things were difficult. It wasn’t that their situations were easier. Often they weren’t. But there seemed to be a difference in how they responded internally.
There was an ability, at times, to recognise limits, to adapt, to accept that not everything works out in the way we hope. And when things became overwhelming, there was often a pause — not giving up, but almost like a quiet recalibration, like a piece of machinery adjusting itself to find balance again after being pushed out of alignment. It wasn’t dramatic. It was subtle, but it made a difference.
And then I began to notice something else. When these same people were with others who were struggling, they didn’t rush in with advice or solutions. They didn’t try to fix things straight away. They tended to begin by simply acknowledging what was being felt. And that stayed with me.
Because what also became clearer over time is that, while many of us are taught how to do this for others, we are not always shown how to do this for ourselves. We learn to say “that makes sense” outwardly — but when it comes to our own experience, it can feel much harder to say it inwardly. And yet, this is often where something begins to shift.
There also seems to be something about lived experience here. When someone has experienced pain, and had space to process it, it can open up a deeper understanding of others. What might once have felt overwhelming becomes something that can be recognised, rather than avoided.
And this is often how it shows up — as anxiety, as emotional overwhelm, or simply as that sense of not quite feeling like yourself.
This led me to think differently about resilience.
We often hear resilience described as pushing through, keeping going, getting on with things no matter what. But what I was seeing didn’t quite look like that. It felt quieter than that.
More like the ability to pause, to notice what is happening, to adjust, and to accept what cannot be changed — rather than forcing things forward. Not ignoring difficulty, but finding a different way of relating to it. And that, for me, felt like a more sustainable way of understanding resilience.
Alongside my counselling work, I have also spent many years teaching, and I think that shaped how I began to understand this as well. Because we learn through repetition, through practice, through gradually building something over time. And if we can learn a skill in that way, it made me wonder whether we can also learn new ways of responding to our thoughts and emotions.
But learning doesn’t happen when we are overwhelmed.
In education, this is often described through Vygotsky’s idea of the Zone of Proximal Development — that space where someone feels supported enough to engage, but not so overwhelmed that they shut down. And I began to see how relevant that is beyond the classroom. Because if someone feels flooded, or unsafe, or completely overwhelmed, it is very difficult for anything new to settle or make sense.
And this is where the body becomes important. There is a lot of work now that helps us understand that our experiences are not only held in the mind, but in the body as well. As Bessel van der Kolk writes in The Body Keeps the Score, the body often carries what the mind has not yet been able to process. And until the body begins to feel safer, it can be very difficult to think clearly or make sense of what is happening.
Many people experiencing anxiety or emotional overwhelm describe that sense of disconnection — as though they are there, but not quite fully themselves.
So techniques like grounding, breathing, or visualisation are not just about relaxation. They are ways of helping the body settle, even slightly, so that the mind can begin to follow.
And then, from there, something else becomes possible. The way we speak to ourselves. Because when that begins to shift — even in small, believable ways — it can change how we experience things over time. Not through forcing positive thinking, but through something that feels a bit more real, and a bit more compassionate.
Over time, I began to see that all of these pieces were part of something bigger, something that didn’t quite fit into a simple, step-by-step process.
Because in practice, it isn’t always as straightforward as starting with validation. At times, when someone is feeling very distressed, even that can feel out of reach. At other times, it might be the body that needs support first. Or there may be a need just to begin by making sense of what is happening, without trying to change it straight away.
So rather than a fixed sequence, this became more of a framework — a collection of tools that can be drawn on, depending on what feels most manageable in that moment. The aim isn’t to follow a set path. It is to gently support a person in feeling a little calmer, a little more centred, and over time, to begin to understand what they are experiencing, and how they relate to it.
The five elements are:
• Validation — recognising that what you feel makes sense, starting with yourself
• Awareness — beginning to notice your patterns without judgement
• Regulation — helping your body feel safe enough to think clearly
• Learning — gradually building new ways of responding
• Compassionate reflection — relating to yourself with understanding rather than criticism
From this, the Compassion-First Framework developed — not as something rigid, but as a way of working that brings together these elements in a way that can adapt to each person.
There isn’t one way through something difficult.
At times you may need to talk.
At times you may need to pause.
At times you may need to understand what is happening in your body or mind.
Wherever you are is a valid place to begin.
If you’re feeling this way, you don’t have to work through it alone. You’re welcome to book a free discovery session when you feel ready.
Geneve Hendry
Holistic Counsellor | GenCounselling
Developer of the Compassion-First Framework
ACCPH | FHT No. 222568
gencounselling.co.uk