How to Deal with Mental Breakdown: Practical Steps When You’re Overwhelmed

When your mind feels like it’s shattering - when you can’t get out of bed, can’t speak without crying, or feel like you’re watching yourself from outside your body - you’re not weak. You’re human. A mental breakdown isn’t a dramatic movie scene. It’s quiet. It’s showing up to work and forgetting your own name. It’s scrolling through texts you never sent. It’s sitting in the car for 45 minutes because you don’t have the energy to walk inside.

What a mental breakdown really looks like

A mental breakdown isn’t a diagnosis. It’s a signal. Your nervous system has been running on empty for too long. Stress, grief, trauma, sleep loss, or even years of quiet overwork can pile up until your brain says: enough. You might feel numb. Or you might feel everything at once - panic, guilt, rage, exhaustion - all crashing together.

There’s no single symptom. Some people cry nonstop. Others shut down completely. Some can’t eat. Others can’t sleep. Some start snapping at loved ones. Others isolate themselves. None of these mean you’re broken. They mean your system is overloaded.

In New Zealand, one in five adults experiences a mental health crisis each year. Yet most wait months before reaching out. Why? Shame. Fear. Believing they should be able to ‘snap out of it.’ But you can’t reason your way out of a nervous system in survival mode. Your brain isn’t broken - it’s protecting you.

Step 1: Stop fighting it

The first thing to do? Stop trying to fix it right away. Trying to ‘pull yourself together’ when you’re in crisis is like trying to run a marathon with a broken leg. You’ll only make it worse.

Instead, say this out loud: I’m not failing. I’m overwhelmed. That shift matters. It stops the spiral of self-blame. You’re not lazy. You’re not dramatic. You’re in survival mode.

For the next 24-48 hours, give yourself permission to do nothing productive. No goals. No to-do lists. Just breathe. Sit. Lie down. Watch something mindless. Drink water. Eat something simple - toast, banana, soup. Your body needs fuel to heal, even if your mind doesn’t feel like it.

Step 2: Reach out - even if it’s hard

Isolation makes a mental breakdown worse. But asking for help feels impossible when you’re in it. You think: They’ll think I’m weak. I don’t want to burden anyone.

Here’s what actually happens when you reach out: people care. They might not know what to say, but they’ll show up. You don’t need to explain everything. Just say: I’m not okay. I need someone to sit with me.

If talking feels too much, send a text: Can you come over? I don’t need advice. Just company. Or call a helpline. In New Zealand, Lifeline (0800 543 354) and Depression Helpline (0800 111 757) are free, anonymous, and available 24/7. You don’t need to be suicidal to call. You just need to be hurting.

Step 3: Get medical support - not just therapy

Therapy helps. But if you’re in the middle of a breakdown, you might need more. A GP can check for physical causes: low iron, thyroid issues, vitamin D deficiency - all common in people who feel ‘emotionally drained.’

They can also prescribe short-term medication if needed. Antidepressants aren’t a cure. But for some, they’re a bridge. They don’t make you happy. They take the edge off the pain so you can start healing. There’s no shame in that. It’s like wearing a cast for a broken bone.

Don’t wait for ‘it to get worse’ to see a doctor. If you’ve felt this way for more than two weeks, or if you’re having thoughts of self-harm - even passive ones like I wish I didn’t wake up - see a GP within 48 hours.

Step 4: Create a tiny safety plan

When you’re in crisis, decisions feel impossible. That’s why you need a simple plan written down - not for tomorrow, but for the next hour.

Write this on a sticky note or your phone:

• My name is [Your Name]. I’m not broken. I’m healing.
• If I feel like I can’t go on, I will call Lifeline: 0800 543 354.
• If I can’t leave the house, I will text [Name] to come over.
• I will drink water. I will eat one bite of food.
• I will not make big decisions today.

Keep this where you can see it. When your thoughts scream you’re worthless, your note says: you’re human.

Step 5: Slowly rebuild your rhythm

Recovery isn’t linear. Some days you’ll feel okay. Others, you’ll crash again. That’s normal.

Start small. One thing a day that grounds you:

• Walk around the block. Don’t aim for steps. Just move.
• Hold a warm cup of tea. Feel the heat in your hands.
• Listen to one song that makes you feel less alone.
• Write one sentence in a notebook: Today, I didn’t give up.

These aren’t fixes. They’re anchors. They remind your nervous system: you’re still here. You’re still safe.

What doesn’t help

Don’t listen to advice like:

• Just think positive. - Your brain can’t do that right now.
• Go for a run and you’ll feel better. - Exercise helps long-term, but not during crisis.
• You’re just stressed. Everyone is. - Your pain is real, even if others don’t see it.
• Take a vacation. - You can’t escape your mind. It comes with you.

Also avoid alcohol, drugs, or bingeing on social media. These might numb the pain for a few minutes, but they deepen the crash later.

How long does this last?

There’s no timeline. Some people feel better in weeks. Others take months. It depends on your history, support, and what caused it. A breakdown from grief looks different from one from chronic overwork.

What matters is this: you’re not stuck forever. Healing starts the moment you stop fighting yourself. Progress isn’t about feeling happy. It’s about feeling less alone. Less afraid. Less like you’re drowning.

When to seek urgent help

If you have thoughts of harming yourself or others - even if you’re not sure you’ll act on them - call emergency services (111) or go to your nearest hospital. You don’t need to be ‘in danger’ to get help. You just need to be hurting.

Emergency departments in New Zealand have mental health teams ready to support you. No judgment. No waiting. You’re not a burden. You’re a person who needs care.

You’re not alone in this

Right now, someone you know is going through this too. Maybe your coworker. Your neighbor. Your sibling. They just won’t say it. Because society tells us to hide our cracks.

But healing starts when we stop pretending. When we say: I’m not okay - and that’s okay.

You don’t need to be fixed. You need to be held. And you deserve that - not someday, not after you ‘get better.’ Right now, while you’re still falling apart.