You can sit with me, if you want to
On life's lows, and not wanting to find a bright side.
As I've mentioned recently, I've been struggling. I've been dealing with seasonal depression, various health issues within my family, relationship struggles, anxiety over the state of the world, and general life overwhelm. I'm at a low point, and I'm thinking I might be here for a while.
I'm prepping myself for wintering1 and moving through this season with the intention of slowing down significantly and taking gentle care of myself.
While I'm in this space, it feels appropriate to share a poem I wrote back in May, during
‘s poem-a-day experience, and the perspective from which I wrote it.
The prompt word for this day was “valley,” and most of us understandably went in the direction of the metaphorical, writing about life's low points.
As I read the prompt, and the responses that had already been shared, I found myself recoiling a bit. Almost all of the poems and comments were about how a valley is a beautiful place; a place for rest, a reprieve, not something to be feared.
Interestingly, I understand this perspective well. In my own experiences of life's lows - the valleys - I have often really dug in and found ways to rest and care for myself. I've learned a lot about myself, learned to let them be what they are.
I've found the healing and beauty and rest that many of these commentors shared about, and even a desire to linger in and to return to that space.
But I bristled at the content and perspective of these poems and comments, and I had to sit with why as I wrote my own short poem in response:
The thing
about being
in a valley is that
after you've hit the
bottom you still have
to climb your way back out.
I think what bothered me about these comments is that I am always, always desiring more nuance, and much of the writing felt like toxic positivity to me - not that it definitely was, or that it was meant that way, it just felt like it was a really limited perspective of a larger conversation. Because of this, I felt compelled to share an alternate perspective.
Speaking both literally and figuratively, valleys can be a beautiful place to rest; someplace fertile and full of growth, worth staying a while, maybe even someplace you gain strength - whether from working within the valley, or from the climb back up. In this context, the valley is not necessarily a place to be feared - if how you got there was by intentional descent.
But so many of us have fallen - or been knocked down - into our metaphorical valleys, ending up bruised, bleeding, or broken by the time we get there.
And being forced into rest and healing, literally or figuratively, is its own form of torture. It's painful and lonely; and even after the healing has begun and you start to regain strength, that itch starts to form.
When you didn't intend or plan to be in the valley, staying there (especially with no visible way out) feels scary and frustrating. And, especially while you're still in it, or still climbing back out, it's hard to see the beauty or appreciate the strength you've gained. It's hard to see anything beyond the desire to leave.
Even when you've been there and made it out before, it can feel so frustrating to be back there again, as I am once again being reminded.
I am grateful for much of what I've learned from my struggles, but not for all the ways I have gotten there. I have found beauty and rest and strength, but at times it has also been almost unbearable.
And what has helped in these moments wasn't being positive, it was having people who were willing to sit in that low with me, to let it be what it was.
So often, we are pressured into finding the silver lining of every situation while we are still in it. We can't share candidly about our struggles without receiving responses like “look on the bright side,” “it could be worse,” or “at least…” as if the struggle is only valid through a lens of positivity.
Like so many things, this is a both/and kind of situation, and I feel like talking about only the (potentially) positive aspect of it can diminish our struggles and devolve into empty platitudes that aren't helpful for those who are - or at some point will be - deep in struggle.
So, from someone at the bottom:
I don't need a bright side or a silver lining. I don't want platitudes or clichés. I just need someone willing to sit with me, and let it be what it is.
You can sit with me, if you want to.
Are you in a valley? Do you need someone to sit with you? We'd love for you to join us in the comments.
As always, feel free to share if this resonated with you!
If you haven't read
‘s Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat During Difficult Times, I can't recommend it enough. It's wonderful for anyone who has experienced burnout, anyone who's neurodivergent, and really just anyone who's a person in this world.
I remember that prompt and how I responded. That day was a full day for me. I recall I needed to keep it simple and short so I ended up writing on the valley I physically live in. But I too felt the nuance of this prompt and the many angles of which it could be shared from.
Currently, I too am in a valley. And understand the over positivity replies that others can come back with. When that happens I don't feel seen, I feel as if I am being glossed over with an attempt to fix the valley as if one fluffy comment could do that.
Often these valleys ask me to stay awhile. There is something for me to see, integrate, experience or simply to rest. I have not yet determined what is needed yet in this valley. But I have come to trust the process and know it will come. But I still struggle being here, it is challenging either way!
I have kinda come to appreciate the valley.
At least i know i have stopped falling.
yes and sit with me.
Don't tell me how fucked up I am
or try to fix me.
Just sit.
thanks and amen.