If you are reading this while feeling disconnected from yourself, from others, or from meaning, I want you to know I wrote this with you in mind. This is an honest exploration of belief, identity, and grounding during grief, shaped by lived experience rather than polished optimism.
This article is intended to provide motivational and inspirational content. However, if you are experiencing thoughts of depression, suicide, or other mental health concerns, please seek help from a qualified medical or mental health professional.
In the United States, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or text the Crisis Text Line at 741741.
For international emergency mental health support, please visit helpguide.org, which lists global helplines and crisis centers.
Remember, mental health support is available, and there is help for those who need it.
There are days when getting out of bed can feel like the art of negotiation. Here lies no clever remark about snoozing my alarm or prioritizing daily goals. I deliberate with myself.
My physical body is in pain, my emotions have checked out, plus the path between point A and point B is filled with a mind fog so thick that I can’t see past the next small task. Shower. Sustenance. Answer at least one message. I zone out: how is it two o’clock already? I sit there, unable to summon the ambition. In the next shallow breath, I’m anxious. Staring into the void, I begrudgingly dismiss it because I have no sense of urgency. Why is it only three o’clock? Just let the world carry on without my participation; I’m not sure I mind.
If you are there now, or have been, I want you to take off your shoes. Stand barefoot on solid earth, OPEN YOUR EYES, and claim, “I am still here!”
Even when circumstances uproot us, or we go adrift, don’t close your eyes and ignore the ability to inhabit the space you’re in. You may not know all the right words to say right now. You may not see how to fix things right now. You may not find the answers right now. However, you do have right now.
Pain has a way of shrinking the future until it feels irrelevant. Our beliefs try to take hold as facts in those moments: “This is just how life is. This is all I can manage. Life is challenging.” Maybe you stayed stuck there longer than you needed to, not because you were weak, but perhaps part of you believed survival was enough.
In times like these, what grounds me is not motivation; it’s identity. I realized I could not think my way out of despair, nor did I need to deny what I was feeling. Yet, I could decide who I was willing to be inside it. On days when I could only show up as a sensitive three, I cared for her like she was a precious ten anyway.
Missed opportunities stopped feeling like proof of failure. They became time for pause. Unexpected problems were new information. I learned to give when I had something real to share, and to receive without feeling shame or guilt. The person I valued needed to be self-directed in order to feel like myself again – alive, connected, filled with meaning, alongside the potential for growth and fulfillment.
If you are reading this from the deep, please hear this as care, not instruction. Think of your inner experience as the soil in the garden of life. The lifeline to all those beautiful, healthy blooms began with seeds you planted, which took root before they could prosper.
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Arbor of the Vine provides inspirational content and resources designed to support women’s creativity, wellness, and personal growth through our collective platforms, including Echoes & Vine Magazine, The Word on the Vine Newsletter, The Echo Effect Podcast, Lore & Leaf Studio, and the Emerging Voices Youth Writers’ Guild. Our content reflects lived experiences and diverse perspectives, celebrating empowerment, resilience, and thoughtful connection. While intended to inspire and guide reflection, it is not a replacement for professional guidance. For situations requiring emotional support, we encourage seeking care from a qualified medical or mental health professional.
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