In the “oh so quiet” moments of life, when the world outside seems to buzz with activity, there often lies a profound stillness within us; a stillness that can sometimes morph into an overwhelming tide of sadness. It’s a feeling that can sweep over us like a relentless wave, pulling us under into an ocean of despair. This quote stopped me in my tracks today, "We must understand that sadness is an ocean, and sometimes we drown, while other days we are forced to swim." This resonates deeply right now… capturing the essence of our emotional struggles and the relationship we have with our own sadness.
There are the days when sadness engulfs us, when the weight of grief, loneliness, or straight devestation feels too big to overcome. It’s as if we are submerged in the depths of an ocean, struggling to find air, to find hope. In these moments, every breath feels like a battle, and the shore of joy seems impossibly far away. The darkness of our sorrow can make us feel isolated, as if we are the only ones drowning in a sea of despair while the world moves on around us.
But then, there are days when we find the strength to swim. We may not see the surface clearly, or the warmth of the sun on our face but we feel the gentle push of resilience guiding us forward. These are the days when we muster (and I mean MUSTER) the courage to face our emotions head-on, to confront the waves instead of being swept away by them. We learn to navigate the dark waters, reminding ourselves that it’s okay to feel lost. Swimming through sadness doesn’t mean we are free from it; it means we are learning how to coexist with it, to acknowledge its presence without letting it define us.
The journey through sadness is not predictable. Some days, we may feel like we’re making progress—dog-paddling through the waves, finding moments of clarity and joy. Other days, we may find ourselves overwhelmed, retreating into the depths where light feels distant. It’s a cycle of understanding, acceptance, and growth. Each wave we encounter teaches us something new about ourselves, about our capacity to endure and to heal.
In these moments of struggle, it’s vital to remember that we are not alone. Just as the ocean contains countless currents and depths, our collective experiences of sadness are vast and shared. There are others out there, swimming beside us, fighting their own battles. In reaching out for support, in sharing our stories, we can create a lifeline—one that reminds us of the beauty in vulnerability and the strength found in community.
Finding solace in the ocean of sadness requires patience and compassion for ourselves. It’s about allowing ourselves to feel, to grieve, and to process our emotions without judgment. It’s about recognizing that sadness is not a weakness but a testament to our humanity. Each tear we shed (and there have been so 🖕ing many) is a reminder of our capacity to love deeply, to care profoundly, and to experience life in all its complexities.
As we navigate these waters, we must also seek the moments of light that pierce through the waves. Whether it’s the warmth of a friend’s embrace (I think I was told it’s 8 “embraces” a day we need… guess I need to find some hugging friends), the laughter of a child, or the beauty of a sunset, these glimpses of joy remind us of the shores that await us. They encourage us to keep swimming, to keep believing in the possibility of brighter days.
In the end, the ocean of sadness is a part of our existence, a reminder of our depth and resilience. While we may sometimes drown in its depths, we also possess the strength to rise and swim—embracing the journey, learning from the waves, and ultimately finding our way back to the shore. Let us honor our sadness as we honor our joy, for both are essential to the tapestry of life. And in this delicate balance, we discover not just the pain of sadness, but the profound beauty of hope.
And after so much darkness… I’m challenging us all to find the light that starts your soul on fire and HOLD ON to it like it’s your life. It’s time to start loving the life we dream of…
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