On the Days You Can’t Take Another Day

On the Days You Can’t Take Another Day

There are days when symptoms grind you down so relentlessly you want to scream.
Days when your body feels like a stranger.
Days when despair crawls into every corner, and you can’t imagine enduring one more hour - let alone one more day.

Sometimes you go numb.
Sometimes you rage.
Sometimes you collapse under the heaviness of it all.

Yeah, those days.

On those days, I want you to try something different:

Surrender.

Surrender doesn’t mean giving up.
It doesn’t mean waving a white flag and letting illness take the win.
It means - just for today - you stop fighting.

It’s a radical acceptance of reality as it is.

Think of it like walking into a room and saying:
“These walls are white.”

Not:
“These walls are white, and they should be painted blue, and I can’t rest until they are.”

Just:
“These walls are white.”

It’s a statement of fact. No resistance. No battle.

Today, no war.

Tomorrow you can go back to war if you want.
Tomorrow you can fight for every ounce of relief.

Tomorrow you can complain, resist, scream, and rally every coping strategy you know.

But today—just today—you lay your weapons down.

Cancel the plans.
Put on your softest clothes.
Go to the most comfortable spot in your house.
Pull a blanket over your shoulders.
Light a candle.
Hold your cat or just yourself.

Give yourself permission to let everything else go.

No shoulds.
No to-dos.
No pressure.
No performance.

Join your body in this moment, as though you are old friends finally sitting down after years apart.

Say: I see you. I know how hard this has been for you. For both of us.

You and your body.
You and your grief.
Together at the same table.

Don’t run.
Don’t push it away.
Don’t abandon yourself here.

If tears come, let them.
If anger rises, let it.
If numbness sets in, let that too.

Everything is allowed.

It won’t last forever.
Like waves, grief rises, swells, and eventually recedes.
You have the capacity to hold it - even when it feels unbearable.

Say: I feel this pain, and it will pass.

Fighting against it every second of every day is what burns you out.

Surrender is not weakness.
It’s not defeat.
It’s choosing gentleness over war, just for one day.

This is an invitation -
to discover what happens
when you stop pushing
and allow your body, your heart, and your grief
to rest in each other’s company

So, Today
Let yourself soften.

Soften again.

And again.

Make space for the truth of what is here.

Not forever.
Not always.
Just for this day.

Turn toward your body like an ally.
Sit with your grief like an honored guest.

Tomorrow will come.
But today -
let surrender show you
a different kind of strength.