The Day I Almost Gave Up—But Didn’t

Some mornings, you're exhausted to the bone—not because you didn't get any sleep, but because life is weighty sometimes with grief, sometimes with grace.
That Tuesday, for me, was a rain-soaked day. And it came almost close enough to being the day I walked away.

I sat at my desk, a cold cup of coffee beside my computer, untouched. Rain pounded against the glass windowpane outside, clicking along like an insistent clock. My head was a din inside that overwhelmed the storm.
I had just received my twenty-third rejection letter. The sentences blurred together—"unfortunately," "not at this time," "we wish you the best." They were all gentle, professional iterations of, "You're not enough."

I stared at the flashing cursor on the resume I was writing halfway through, fingers resting over the keys. My heart wasn't broken—it was exhausted.

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The Quiet Collapse

No one saw me shattering.
There were no melodramas, no slamming doors. Only silence. The kind that leaves you questioning everything. I thought of quitting. Not just quitting on the job hunt—but quitting on trying altogether. What was the point of going on when every step I took seemed to take me further away?

I flipped open my journal—my journal that I hadn't touched in weeks—and scribbled down just one line:
"I can't do this anymore."

I stared at it. The sentence was genuine-sounding. Too genuine.
But when I stared at those words, a strange thing happened. My hand trembled, but I picked up the pen once more.

And I crossed it out.
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The Whisper of Hope

And in its place, I wrote another sentence.
"What if I'm just one step away?"

That thought was more subdued than my doubt. But it belonged to me. And in a sense, that subdued hope sufficed to motivate me. Not to scale the mountain—but to stand up again.

I did not heal all day. I did not fire off a dozen resumes. I did not magically believe in myself.
What I did was simple. I showered. I ate a hot meal. I cleaned the mess off my desk. I updated one section of my resume.

Little things. But they felt like acts of defiance.
They said, "I'm still here."
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The Days That Followed

The next day, I applied for one job. Just one. I reminded myself that I didn't have to change the world—just show up for myself.

And then did it again the next day.
And the day after that.

My confidence did not return bursting like a flood—it returned like morning light: gradually, silently, incrementally each day. One week after, I went to an interview. Two weeks after, a job offer.

This isn't, however, a tale of securing employment.
This is a tale of the day I almost let go—and chose to cling to.
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The Real Victory

Reflecting back on it now, I notice something powerful:
Winning doesn't always appear as winning.
Sometimes, winning is just refusing to quit when quitting is easier.
I could have quit that day. I almost did.
But I didn't.

And that tiny choice—not to quit—changed everything.

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If You're in That Place Right Now.

Maybe you're reading this now. Sitting in your own sort of storm. With the sense that the weight is too much. I won't tell you to "stay positive" or "just get on with it." I understand how hollow such words are.

Rather, I'll remind you of this:
You don't have to leap.
You don't have to dazzle.
You just have to breathe, and take one small step forward.

Cry if you must. Rest if you need to.
But don't write yourself off.

You never know your victory is just a step away.

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You're Closer Than You Think

That drizzly Tuesday didn't end with sparklers or sunshine.
But it ended with me, still trying.
And sometimes that's enough.

Sometimes, it’s just a whisper that says:
“Not today. I’m not giving up today.”