When Discouragement Comes
You have it within you to overcome the feeling of discouragement!
Negativity comes in many different shapes and forms. It can come from an outside source or from within. One of the WORSE feelings, is sitting within the feeling of being completely discouraged. This icky feeling usually comes around when you know exactly all of the things that you should be doing, but overwhelm and dismay has a tight hold over you making you feel like not doing anything at all. When this feeling comes around, it seems like your ability to talk sense into yourself to get things done and over with have completely gone out the window.
Discouragement is one of those feelings that has the ability to distance you from any type of happiness, motivation and productivity. This leaves you with an “I can’t do it” attitude. It makes you feel so stuck that you just want to sit around and whine all day since you have lost the confidence in doing anything that seems practical. This burden of discouragement makes you feel like you just don’t have the strength, the will, the courage to get up and begin moving. Thus leaving your spirits low within the blues that is almost unbearable to escape. Discouragement has the ability to take over you so bad that it makes you wonder where’s the hope and how can you possibly get back to it.
There is no doubt, despair is super hard to shake off, especially once it gets a hold of your mind, it can suck everything else in its proximity dry. Although you may be feeling like this cloud of discouragement may have the upper hand for now, just know that you are not alone. We all collectively go through these tumultuous feelings more often than not.
The best way to begin getting out of this discouragement is by taking action and redirecting your focus on the things that you are able to do and can control. Begin by putting in your schedule time to spend doing the things that you enjoy rather than always doing what doesn’t fulfill your heart’s desire. And if you don’t quite know what that is, then take the time to explore doing different things to figure it out. Take the time to figure out what you are good at and what makes you happy. Nothing is too ridiculous or outlandish to try. Once you are able to focus on doing the things that makes you happy, the sense of discouragement will eventually fade because you will be filled with an open mind, hopefulness and feel rejuvenated. All the feeling of overwhelm will disappear the more you designate time to doing the things that makes you happy.
That is just one way of going about ridding the sense of discouragement. No matter how you’ve gone about dissolving this feeling doesn’t really matter. What ultimately matters is that while you are in this space, you know that this feeling will eventually fade away. And when it has subsided, the important thing is to remember the beautiful story that you get to tell others on how you won this battle and regained yourself!
Remember, you’re a survivor and you have made it this far in your life! So use the last bit of strength you have left, and choose to release that little voice of doubt you hear in your head. Because at the end of the day, all of what you need, is already within you to overcome the sense of discouragement! You got this and I know this without a single doubt in my mind. I have always believed in you, and always will, even when you can’t see it yourself just yet!
I love you always !
Self <3
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Ezomindus
In a valley where silence grew like silver grass, And the mountains seemed to hold their breath, There lived a soul whose name no map could claim—Ezomindus. He was no king of armies, no lord of stone halls, But a traveler of thought, a seeker of questions, A spark that refused to bow to fear or certainty. Ezomindus was born on a night When the moon hung low, swollen with mystery, And the wind whispered secrets through the cracks of the world. The elders, wise yet fearful, said, “This child will wander paths unknown, And his thoughts may burn like fire.” The stars, however, had their own counsel: “This child will wonder, And in his wondering, awaken others.” From his first breath, he listened—not just to people, But to the heartbeat beneath the soil, The rhythm of rivers carving their patient paths, The quiet ache of shadows folding over themselves. He heard the sorrow hidden inside laughter, The longing beneath simple words, The unspoken truths between two people’s eyes. While the villages built houses of brick and pride, Ezomindus built bridges of questions. “Why does the river never hold its shape?” he asked. “Why does the flame dance even as it dies?” “Why does the heart ache for what it cannot name?” His questions were neither rude nor loud; They were gentle arrows of thought, Piercing the illusions of routine and comfort. He wandered through forests older than memory, Where trees leaned close as if to hear him think. Roots twisted like ancient riddles, Leaves shimmered with the dust of forgotten stars. “Everything changes,” the trees whispered, “Even the one who asks.” Ezomindus was not afraid of change. He feared the stillness that numbed the mind. He saw cities wrapped in golden noise, People chasing shadows of approval, Running toward mirrors that reflected only themselves. He whispered to them softly, “Your chains are not iron—they are thoughts You never dared to examine.” Some laughed. Some scowled. Some left. A few felt something stir inside, A small trembling recognition of a mind not yet free. He carried no sword, yet battled storms of doubt. He climbed mountains that seemed to pierce the sky, Where air thinned into honesty, And only the purest thoughts could survive. At the summit, there was no throne, No crown, no prize—only a mirror of ice. In that mirror, he saw himself Not as hero nor as failure, But as a river of becoming. His courage and his fear flowed together, His wounds glimmered like constellations, His mind stretched out like the horizon itself. He understood at last: To conquer the world is smaller than conquering the mind. So he descended, carrying no gold, No trophies, no scrolls of fame, Only awareness. He spoke in marketplaces, empty fields, In the hush of midnight and the blaze of noon. “Do not fear the darkness,” he said. “It is the canvas upon which your light can paint.” As years passed, Ezomindus did not grow old in spirit. His eyes remained young with curiosity, His voice tender with truth. Children gathered around him, Drawn to the way he asked questions Instead of offering answers. “What is strength?” one child asked. He smiled and replied, “Strength is choosing truth Even when lies are easier, Even when the world calls for silence.” “What is freedom?” another asked. He touched the soil, the roots, the wind. “Freedom,” he said softly, “Is seeing your own thoughts Without becoming their prisoner.” “And what is love?” they asked. He paused, feeling the wind trace his weathered face. “Love,” he said, “Is the courage to let another soul breathe, To honor their mind as you honor your own, To walk beside them without claiming their journey.” Ezomindus became a legend, Not of battles won or lands conquered, But of minds awakened. He did not build empires of stone; He built awakenings, Invisible yet eternal, A revolution of thought, quiet yet unstoppable. When his final evening came, The sky blazed in amber farewell, And the valley seemed to lean closer in sorrow. He lay beneath the same moon That had watched his first breath. Around him stood those Who had once been lost in noise, Now awake to the rhythm of their own hearts. “Master,” they whispered, “What remains when you are gone?” Ezomindus looked at them, At their trembling hope, At their eyes opening wide to their own truths. “I remain,” he said, “In every thought you dare to examine, In every fear you face with courage, In every moment you wake instead of drift asleep.” His breath faded like a candle surrendering to dawn, Yet the valley did not grow silent. It hummed with awareness, Alive with the minds he had stirred. Ezomindus was never a body— He was a question set on fire, A space between impulse and reflection, A courage to look within. He was the whisper that said: Do not live asleep. Do not fear the depths of your own mind. For the greatest journey Is not across oceans or stars— It is through the vast, uncharted realm Of your own consciousness. Long after, children would trace his steps in the forest, Listening to the trees, to the rivers, Learning to see the unseen. They carried no scrolls, no crowns, Only the seed of questioning he had planted, A spark that refused to die. And so Ezomindus lives, Not in stone or story, But in every mind that dares to pause, Every heart that dares to reflect, Every soul that refuses to sleep While the world drifts blindly onward. For life is fleeting, And the noise of the world can drown the quiet, But the mind that awakens is eternal. Ezomindus taught this: To live is to be aware, To be aware is to be free, To be free is to walk the endless path Of truth, courage, and love. And somewhere, when the wind bends the silver grass And the moon hangs low like a question, A voice stirs inside the restless heart: “Do not live asleep. Do not fear your own depths. For the greatest journey Is not across oceans or stars— It is through the vast, uncharted Realm of your own mind.” Ezomindus is not gone— He is the question set on fire, The mind that will not sleep, The whisper inside every heart That chooses awareness over comfort, Courage over fear, Truth over illusion. And the valley, ever alive, Breathes on, Shimmering with the light of a mind awake.
By The best writer about 20 hours ago in Motivation
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