Chapter 1: The Weight of Hopelessness

Recently, I found myself diving into a series of articles on Medium, something I hadn't done in quite a while. On my day off, I leisurely read through them, and unexpectedly, a few resonated deeply with me. Towards the end of my reading spree, I encountered two pieces: one discussing feelings of being stuck and the other containing a heartfelt letter from the author to her body.

The first article articulated my own sense of blockage perfectly. This sensation isn't new to me; throughout my life, whether due to moving, seeking a stable job, or navigating relationships, I often feel trapped, no matter my efforts to change things. I yearn for something—anything—to disrupt this stagnation. Yet, I also recognize that part of my journey involves accepting myself and my circumstances, and sharing that journey with others. Thus, feeling "stuck" is, in many ways, a part of my acceptance process.

Interestingly, just last week, I experienced a brief period of joy and energy. It felt refreshing to be free from burnout or sadness for once. However, much like a child realizing they're riding a bike without training wheels, I suddenly stumbled. Thankfully, it wasn't as severe as past experiences. I had a supportive conversation with my mom, but I had to quickly shake off my feelings to celebrate a birthday party without dampening the mood.

As someone on the autism spectrum, engaging in activities that drain my energy, such as masking or pretending, is incredibly exhausting. Instead, I find it more beneficial to step back and focus on what truly inspires me. This approach often replenishes my energy, akin to discovering your core motivation—your "why." For me, those moments of renewed energy are nothing short of magical, and I yearn to explore that further.

What triggered this burst of energy? I feel fortunate that my body and the universe have a way of guiding me, making it clear when I'm not aligned with my true self. This past week, I was caught off guard, feeling let down after trusting situations that didn't yield the expected results. As someone who tends towards cynicism rather than naivety, it baffles me when I find myself in these situations, leaving me frustrated and self-critical.

"Why did you think things were going well? Didn't you remember who you are? You let your guard down," I scold myself. As I articulate these thoughts, I realize they stem from a traumatic voice I've internalized, which I mistakenly believed to be my true self. This voice, often rooted in childhood experiences, needs to be acknowledged and understood, rather than feared.

Yesterday, on my first day off, I felt overwhelmingly drained. Even a short walk seemed like a monumental task, and I was tempted to revert to old, unhealthy habits I'd worked hard to overcome. Just days earlier, I had been filled with vitality and optimism.

This is where the concept of writing a letter to my body comes into play. The two articles' themes converged—my body's signals and my feelings of blockage. I realized I had been suppressing frustration regarding various aspects of my life and felt foolish for having hoped for better outcomes.

Even as I pen this, I can sense my inner child speaking rather than my adult self. I recognize that I was doing well on a conscious level and understand what adjustments I need to make for the future.

It's as if I'm witnessing my experience from two different perspectives: the pragmatic side that wants to create a solid action plan moving forward and my inner child, who feels the weight of disappointment and assigns catastrophic meaning to the situation.

Fortunately, I've grown enough to recognize that thinking "everything is hopeless" or "why should I even try" isn't an accurate reflection of reality. I don't believe those thoughts anymore, which is a significant improvement. However, I may have leaned too heavily into rationality without fully processing my emotions. I also wanted to shield my children from seeing me navigate something deeply emotional.

You never realize the depth of your wounds until you begin to confront them. Part of my reluctance to feel was rooted in wanting to ensure the birthday celebration went smoothly.

It's essential to balance our needs with those of others. This experience serves as a reminder that despite our best intentions, we can become so engrossed in our responsibilities that we neglect to process our feelings, and our bodies will eventually call attention to this oversight.

Even with my understanding, I must still confront my emotions. I need to be present with my inner child or any part of me that is ready to be acknowledged.

Until next time, I wish you peace and acceptance in the face of life's challenges.

In this video, we explore practical strategies for coping with feelings of hopelessness and finding renewed purpose in life.

This video delves into the reasons behind feelings of hopelessness and offers insights on how to navigate these emotions effectively.