An Open Letter To The Person Who’s Ready To Give Up

You were meant to read this.

You were meant to find this as you’re scrolling through endless social media posts and you were meant to be stopped in your tracks. You were meant to read these words, just as much as I was meant to write them.

So if you’re ready to give up, if you’ve come to the end of yourself, keep reading.

I understand, maybe a little too well, what it’s like to come head first with grief. To have to face that immensity. To be afraid to stand your ground. To never want to leave the comfort of your bed, or have to face another day. I know what it’s like to watch your dream die. I know what it’s like to watch the person you love walk away, or pass away. I know what it’s like to have your own reality ripped out from under your feet. I know what it’s like to feel like you missed a prime opportunity. How it feels to watch someone walk away and know that your words won’t bring them back. To not know. To be afraid.

And sometimes giving up seems like the only option left.

But that’s a lie, and quite frankly, the easy way out. There’s this romantic notion going around that all the garbage and the pain that we feel is beautiful and sort of poetic, but it’s not. It’s just that – garbage, and pain. And you don’t need to feel that anymore.

It’s been said that the best things in life are invisible to the eye – love, faith, hope, enchantment. Sometimes life becomes so overwhelming, so strange, so unknown. But I promise you, that if you just gather up enough strength to get out of that bed, to just put on some jeans and leave your house, you might find something, or someone. And it’ll change your life. And you’ll begin to heal, slowly, over time.

You’ll become yourself again. You’ll bloom.

Maybe you’re in an old bookstore and you find a book tucked behind others and something in those words just stands out to you. Maybe you’re preparing for a school presentation and you meet someone in a printer room just as you’re about to break the damn thing for jamming up. And maybe that person changes your reality. Maybe you’re driving and you see a beautiful sunset and you’re reminded of all the beauty left in this world. And slowly, without even noticing it, the sharp edges will blend together, and you’ll wake up one day to a new reality.

The thing about grief is that it tricks you into thinking it belong there and that you deserve to feel the way you do. That’s a lie. You deserve happiness, peace of mind, to go to bed with a grateful heart, to be so full of light and love that it shines on your face wherever you go.

You have an entire story waiting in front of you, just waiting to be written. So write it, boldly and happily. Don’t dwell on life’s moments of unhappiness, or the grief that promises to stay, or the words you were told by someone who was too upset with their own reality and had to spill that bitterness onto you. Don’t be fooled by depression, sadness or loneliness. Don’t let negative thoughts make home of your heart.

So go to bed tonight and be done with today. Wake up tomorrow and begin the day with a fresh new mindset and a brand new hope. And if you fail, try again the next day. And the next. And next. Until the day when it becomes a habit and a necessity to be happy.

And then you’ll be free.

Until next time,

Vanda