Healing requires from us to stop struggling, but to enjoy life more and endure it less

Healing is one of the most misunderstood journeys we undertake as human beings. Too often, we think of it as a battle to be fought and won, a test of endurance where we must prove our strength by carrying our pain without flinching. But healing is not about tightening our grip; it is about loosening it. It is not about surviving life as if it were a battlefield, but about rediscovering the joy that quietly waits beneath the weight of our struggles. To heal is to stop struggling against ourselves and to remember that life was not meant only to be endured, but to be lived fully, with openness and delight.

When we are hurt—physically, emotionally, or spiritually—our natural instinct is to resist. We want to push the pain away, to cover it up, to outrun it. Yet, in resisting, we only deepen its presence. Every time we struggle against what is, we give more power to the very thing we want to be free from. Healing begins when we stop this endless struggle. Instead of demanding that our wounds vanish overnight, we learn to accept them as part of the human experience, not as punishments or flaws. Acceptance does not mean resignation; it means allowing reality to be what it is without letting it define who we are.

There is a quiet wisdom in letting go. When we release the belief that life is something to be endured, we create space for something softer, more nurturing, to enter. Life is not a constant test of strength. It is not meant to be carried as an unbearable burden on tired shoulders. It is meant to be experienced, felt, and cherished. The sunrise that paints the sky in gold, the laughter shared with a friend, the stillness of the night when the world finally quiets—these are not small, insignificant details, but reminders that joy is still possible, even in the midst of pain. Healing asks us to notice these moments, to hold them close, and to let them anchor us in the present.

The truth is, endurance alone can harden us. If we focus only on survival, we may keep breathing, but we forget what it feels like to be alive. Endurance keeps us locked in a state of waiting—waiting for pain to pass, waiting for a better tomorrow, waiting for permission to finally feel at peace. But healing asks us to step into life now, not later. It encourages us to move from endurance to enjoyment, from survival to presence. It whispers that peace is not found at the end of the struggle, but in the decision to stop struggling altogether.

To enjoy life is not a selfish act; it is a healing one. When we laugh, when we taste something delicious, when we pause to admire a flower or listen to the rhythm of rain, we are telling ourselves that life is more than suffering. We remind the body that it does not always have to be in fight-or-flight mode. We remind the heart that it is safe to open again. We remind the spirit that it can breathe freely. Joy is not the absence of pain; it is the presence of something greater that pain cannot take away.

This shift from endurance to enjoyment transforms us. Suddenly, we are no longer victims of our wounds but companions of our own becoming. Healing becomes less about racing toward an imagined finish line and more about walking gently, moment by moment, embracing the gifts that come along the way. Some days will still be heavy; healing is not linear, and pain does not vanish with a snap of the fingers. But even on the hardest days, the commitment to live with openness instead of resistance allows light to enter through the cracks.

Healing asks us to cultivate patience and compassion with ourselves. It teaches us that slowing down is not weakness, that rest is not laziness, and that joy is not a distraction but a necessity. It is in the small acts of kindness toward ourselves—choosing rest over exhaustion, forgiveness over blame, presence over escape—that we truly mend. Life will always contain challenges, but when we shift our perspective, those challenges become part of a larger, richer picture. We begin to see life not as a storm to withstand but as an ocean to explore, with calm waters and wild waves alike.

Ultimately, healing is not about creating a life without pain; it is about creating a life where pain does not rule. It is about stepping out of the narrow hallway of endurance and walking into the vast landscape of presence and joy. When we stop struggling against what we cannot control and start embracing what we can—the beauty, the love, the wonder—healing becomes not a destination but a way of being. It is the art of remembering that life, even in its messiness, is a gift to be experienced, not a burden to be carried.