There are days when we can’t even function on auto-pilot. Our anxieties, stress, or depression seem to have captured us: we’re thrown into a deep, dark pit.

It is a cold and lonely state of mind. It can distort our vision and steal our intellect and rationality. We’re out of tune with every human function.

During times like this, it can be hard to simply heave ourselves out of bed. We have no energy or inclination to even get up, shower, or dress – yet we have responsibilities to face.

This is when you need to surrender to your head-fog. Where possible you should have a duvet day or re-arrange your diary for when your head-fog has lifted sufficiently.

You need to find a coping strategy. I write a couple of mine down, so that I can have them to hand when this happens to me. They’re my few happy childhood memories, and I recall them with maximum detail. This is key – recall as much detail as you can, doing so from the comfort of your bed/sofa/garden.

I am three, and I am high up on my late father’s shoulders. I’m patting and kissing his freckled bronzed head. It is a sunny day, and I feel the warmth on my crown.  Daddy has a firm grip of my legs tucked under his arms. I am wearing red-buckled shoes, but they are not shiny. I feel safe and secure, and the scent of his after-shave wafts up under my face. I can smell the Italian delicatessen nearby and recognise all the buildings that we pass. We’re strolling up Wardour Street, and I’m wearing an orange Zowie Bowie t-shirt, my late brother wears a yellow one, and we’re taking it in turns to ride daddy’s shoulders. I have burgundy corduroy dungarees on, and we’re wearing matching afghan suede waistcoats.

We arrive at his flat, it is halfway up Wardour Street. I smell the bacon from his friend’s café below his flat. I recognise Mario’s friendly face, smell his cigar propped at his lips. He extends his arms to reach for me, and settles us all down at his red and white chequered tables: breakfast time…

Notice how you feel when you lose yourselves in a content or happy memory. The more you practice my technique, the more petals of detail flood back to mind. Notice how much calmer your breathing feels too.