*Warning: some naughty language ahead!

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There I was, banging my head against the wall, shattered on my bedroom floor in a pile of frustrated tears—yet again.

A black cloud hung over my entire body, casting my skin in a thick blanket of shadows.

Tears rained and rained. My unevenly applied mascara smeared and smeared. And my heart, well, my heart felt like she was stuck out in a torrential downpour—without an umbrella, without a raincoat, without a single grain of hope.

“Fuck this!”

That’s what I said aloud to the dark evening sky, in an even darker voice.

But what I really meant was, “I’m so afraid.”

I’m afraid I can’t handle this pain. I’m afraid I won’t get through this hellhole of anxiety that’s seeped into my bloodstream and taken over my life like a virus.

I’m afraid I’ll never feel okay again.

And what I really, really meant was, “I feel helpless.”

In the depths of that shattered, terrifying moment, all I wanted was to give up. Hell, I would have given anything to get rid of that pain.

How could I sit there and face it? How could I face myself?

I really thought I couldn’t.

So I gave up. I turned away from my terrified heart when she needed me the most. And I ran. I ran like hell, I let myself flounder wildly in darkness and didn’t do a damn thing about it.

And you know what happened?

Nothing good.

I spun further and faster into a sea of panicked heartbeats and frothy sadness and glassy-eyed tears. I travelled further and further away from myself, until I felt so freakin’ frustrated and exhausted that I finally I said it aloud. This time I really meant it.

“Fuck this.”

So, I ditched the pity party and showed up for myself. I looked my anxiety straight in the face and held myself gently as I walked through the heart of this shit storm with shaky knees. I faced it. I faced myself.

And no, it hasn’t been pretty, but it has been really fucking beautiful.

Because in that tender moment of showing up for myself, I realized something I needed to realize so badly—giving up isn’t easy, it just feels familiar.

It feels familiar, safe even, to throw ourselves under the bus and throw our hearts to the wolves. But the truth is, it’s actually harder to give up. It takes a helluva lot more energy to fight against ourselves, abandon ourselves, desperately try to find a way around our pain than to extend a gentle, helping hand and face our shit with grace.

And, here’s the really wild thing—when we abandon ourselves while we’re in a fragile, suffering place, we’re stuck there.

Stuck. Frozen in place.

By trying to get around our suffering and bypassing our pain, we’ve stopped ourselves from growing, from moving forward, from moving with life.  Because life always moves. Life is movement—a swirling ocean, a fierce, whipping breeze, a twirling ballerina’s tulle skirt.

So, it’s really not possible to be stuck unless we are choosing to be.

Life wants us to move, it begs us to move, it invites us to move and change and grow in every moment.

Why not say yes to this invitation?

When times get tough, we have to move through the pain—dance with it, work with it, and yes, let it destroy us a little bit—so we can become who we really are, who we need to be.

If you’re hurting, if you’re sad, if you’re anxious, if you’re gritting your teeth, pushing down tears, and struggling like mad to face the day—

Don’t give up.

Try.

Try in a new way.

When everything goes to shit, when it all hurts too much—keep going.

Go gently.

Because something really juicy is about to unfold before your surprised eyes.

Because that pain can’t last forever, and it won’t. It’s just trying to wake you up, to shock you to life—

So let it.

And keep going.

With soft feet, dive right into the shit storm of your suffering.

Let raindrops rip you apart as booming thunder rebuilds you. Let searing bolts of lightning inspire you to fall, to fall, to fall into your own arms—

Gently.

Don’t fight it.

Don’t fight your suffering—

Face it.

Face it, with open arms and a tender, broken heart.

Walk past what you know. Walk straight into your shit, into the unknown, into the terrible aching that plagues your body, mind and soul.

Be okay with being uncomfortable, because every uncomfortable second is worth it.

What glittering treasures wait for you in the billowing folds of darkness?

What juicy truths are about to snap, pop and bloom in your heart like a thousand white lilies?

Fuck giving up.

Give in. Dig in. Dive in—

Try in a new way.

Dip your toes gently in the swirling seas of your tenderest suffering.

Taste the salty rain of tears on your tongue.

And keep going, sweet soul—

Keep going.

Because you will survive this pain.

You will survive this loss.

You will survive this anxiety.

You will survive this shock. This betrayal. This sadness. This failure. This disappointment.

But you won’t just survive it—

You will rise from it.

So move with the pain, move through it, dance with it, twirl with your tears, spin with your suffering, tango with your worry—

Move with it.

And when you come out on the other side, you won’t be the same, no—

You will be soaring.

This pain can set you free.

So don’t give up.

Give in. Dig in. Dive in.

Take a deep breath.

Walk through your shit—

And soar.

Don’t give up.

Try.

Try in a new way.

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Relephant read: 

Surrender: Don’t Give Up.

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Author: Sarah Harvey

Editor: Khara-Jade Warren

Image: Pixabay

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