When you can’t push through

Have you ever felt unable to do something because your body wouldn’t allow it? Are illness, fatigue, brain fog or other symptoms scuppering your plans?

Most of us relate to brief moments of tiredness, usually restored by rest. Often, we push through the tiredness or illness despite the body’s signals to slow down. However, sometimes it is impossible to push through. The body simply won’t allow it.

This inability to carry out an activity due to physical and/or mental drain, whether short-lived or due to a chronic condition, can elicit emotional reactions.

What happens when you realise that you are unable to meet your friend for lunch, something you had been looking forward to? What kind of self-talk do you notice when your mind is foggy and you are unable to focus on the project that you are passionate about? What about when you feel so lethargic that even carrying out daily chores feels like a mountain and rest makes no difference to your tiredness?

The moment we realise we cannot carry out our planned tasks, initially we still try. We try various strategies to increase our energy, so that we can be productive. When that doesn’t work and we recognise that the body is simply not co-operating, what happens?

Outwardly you may say, ‘OK, I cannot do this now.’ Inside a different narrative unfolds. Feelings of frustration, disappointment, sadness or anger may flare up. Perhaps you feel like a failure. Varying degrees of inadequacy could bubble up.

After recurring moments, days or weeks like this, these reactions intensify. It can foster a sense of isolation (Am I the only one who feels this way?), a feeling of being left behind (everyone else is speeding ahead and I can’t catch up), and a feeling of being different (why can’t I be like everyone else?).

Some of these feelings are a reaction to what you lost. The loss of what was and the loss of what could be. It can also feel like a loss of your identity.

You feel the painful gap between what you want and what is. I see this as a form of grief. Grief evokes different emotions and is by no means a linear process, as anyone who has been through a grieving process will tell you. There is no fast train to speed through this process, as much as we’d like to make ourselves believe that we can get there quicker. Despite any resistance to being on the slow train, how you take that journey can make a difference to your experience.

When facing your limitations, you might sway between resistance and acceptance. Sometimes the mere pull towards acceptance can increase our hesitancy. Will it mean that I give up? Will it make me weak? A failure? Will it mean agreeing with the situation? These associations with acceptance become barriers. When you notice that, I would invite you to become curious about those associations and challenge them if necessary. We can make meaning of situations based on incomplete conclusions. Re-evaluating your beliefs can release the barriers.

Acceptance does not mean resignation or passivity. It doesn’t mean that you agree with the situation. It is an active state of being where you see the situation clearly, including the difficulties and painful reactions, yet stop fighting against it. I’m not referring to a case when definite action is needed, such as when you find yourself in an unsafe situation. However, in other circumstances that cannot be changed, such as when the body is unable to function optimally, acceptance means you release the energy you use to fight it. It also releases the internal pressure of trying to fix it. This form of letting go in the moment is a relief.

What if there was an even deeper layer?

That is what surrender is to me. It is an extension of acceptance. Not just accepting the situation but leaning into it. The word ‘surrender’ comes from the Old French surrendre, from sur, meaning ‘over’, and rendre, from the Latin reddere, meaning ‘to give back’, ‘return’ or ‘restore’. By handing over our need for control, we let go of the reins and can restore the peace within.

Allowing a situation to run its course, when we have no control over it anyway, can facilitate the development of trust. Whether that is trust in the process, trust in our ability to handle it, or trust in the Divine to take care of it. Surrender is not about hoping for the outcome we want; it is accepting without knowing how things will go.

That’s easier said than done, I hear you say. You’re right, as it cannot be forced. While our mind is helpful in reminding ourselves to accept, it is not enough. In my experience, surrender emerges from the heart. By that I mean the seat of calmness, peace and joy, at the centre of the chest or, for those familiar with esoteric systems, from within the heart chakra.

Acceptance and surrender are not techniques. They are a process that unfolds through consistent and intentional practice: noticing the internal reactions, becoming curious about them, and being willing to let go.

Does it mean you won’t feel frustration anymore? Unlikely. Does it mean it works every time you remind yourself to simply surrender? Certainly not. However, recognising the internal struggle in that moment opens the door to seeing another option: the choice to let go in that moment.

It rarely comes as an epiphany. It is often more of a gradual process where you notice the changes much later, for example, when you find yourself in a challenging situation again and you realise that it is easier to let go than before. That’s when you know you have grown a bit more.

May we all surrender to who we are and where we are each moment.

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Also published on Substack

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