I have to be honest, the adage, “The Struggle is Real” is one of my least favorite sayings.
“The coffeeshop was out of vanilla soy milk #TheStruggleIsReal.”
Your lack of vanilla soy milk is not a real struggle. It is, at most, a inconvenience of the moment.
Real struggle is making enough money to feed your family, keep the lights on, or a roof over your head. The struggle is real if you’re battling depression and have fallen into a pit of hopelessness that you’re not sure you can get out of. The struggle is real if you want to reach out a hand for help to battle that inner demon, but you’re so scared that no one’s hand will reach back that you retract further into your shell. The struggle is real if you believe the lies that depression whispers to your mind and your heart.
That is real struggle.
I write this because I just got out of that pit of hopelessness. I write this because I was too scared to reach out. I write this to release the demon’s hold on me mentally and emotionally.
I write this because I do have people in my corner and cheerleaders. No matter how scared, I should have reached out, but didn’t. As alone as my brain made me think I was, I wasn’t alone at all.
#TheStruggleIsReal when your brain tries to fuck with you.
That I can hashtag without cringing.
Categories: Living Loudly