I think it happened after the sexual abuse got discovered by my parents, and they did nothing. They had a sit down with us, told us to stop "the games", and my father told us to never, ever speak of it to anyone. So I didn't. I was 12. That was the first time I felt hopeless.
It got worse ten years later, after I got a kid of my own, and all the memories started bubbling up. I started therapy cause I couldn't deal. After a couple of years I had the strength to tell my mother it was actually sexual abuse, not games or play, and that it had damaged me. My parents again had a sit down with my brothers and me, they said sorry, and nothing else happened. Everything just went on as usual, everyone was invited for Christmas, everyone played nice, and I went along, not understanding why I felt so f*cking bad, guilty that I couldn't just let it go. I was 22. That was the second time I felt hopeless.
Ten more years of that shit, and I couldn't deal with it anymore. I told everyone in my family about the sexual abuse, and that I wanted NO contact with my brothers. A short time after, my mother invites us all to her birthday party. It's my choice you see, if I don't want to be a part of it, it's my failing. I was 32. That was the third time I felt hopeless.
I stopped having contact with my parents shortly after. I don't feel hopeless anymore.