Life.

Here's to Drinking the Kool-Aid.

The Weight of Staying

This is a heavy one. If you’re not in the space for that right now, it’s okay to scroll to something lighter. Truly.

This is your last chance.

A friend recently shared a piece of writing about their father’s suicide and the reverberations it left through their life. Around the same time, news came that someone else’s teenage son had attempted to take his own life. He’s still here—on life support—suspended between worlds. His choice reminded me how fragile the line between leaving and staying can be.

Grief and memory have a way of surfacing together, like silt stirred up in still water. Old imprints rise—versions of ourselves that we thought we’d outgrown but have simply been waiting in the depths.

In the quiet moments, a truth emerges: sometimes the weight we’ve been carrying was never fully ours to begin with. And yet, we’ve shouldered it.

Life has a way of handing out lessons in waves. Some are gentle reminders; others crash like tsunamis. Some of us build walls. Some of us numb. Some of us feel it all. None of it is wrong—it’s simply how we survive.

These recent days have cracked something open. Patterns that once went unquestioned are suddenly visible. Silence, distance, and clarity can feel foreign at first. But sometimes, stepping back isn’t abandonment—it’s self-respect. It’s drawing a boundary that says, “This is what I will accept. No less.”

It’s astonishing how long we can wait for people to meet us in our pain before realizing we’ve been holding the line alone.

And yet—despite the heartbreak, despite the echoes of hopelessness, despite the unbearable weight—many of us stay. We keep breathing. Keep cursing the sky. Keep crying in the car. Keep writing.

Because sometimes, staying is the radical act.

Life, lived fully, is heavy. It asks everything of us. It breaks us open and then hands us a brush, a pen, a song, a breath, and says: “Build again.”

And we do.

Because even in the mess, there is beauty. Even in the quiet ache, there is resilience. And some of us—maybe you, maybe (no, definitely) me—are resilient as hell.

Still here. Still breathing. Still trying.
And for today, that’s enough.

One of my latest abstracts. Tears of the Gods.

In moments like this, I often return to a poem that has carried many through storms, both seen and unseen—Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata. It’s a reminder that even amid the noise, sorrow, and uncertainty, there’s a quiet thread of grace that we can hold onto:

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Sometimes, the only thing left to do is whisper these words to yourself in the dark, take a breath, and stay.

Let us whisper our truths into the night until the sound gathers like a storm, cresting into a single echo that startles the dark and reminds it: we are still here.

Until Next Time…