Sometimes We Need to Sit in the Pain: We Just Don’t Stay There, We Rise Again

Sometimes the Strongest Thing You Can Do Is Admit You’re Struggling

There are days when I don’t feel strong, and I certainly don’t feel like a Queen. Some days, getting out of bed is hard enough without having to put on a brave face, answer messages, deal with life and make sure everyone else is alright as well. Sometimes I’m tired before the day has even bloody started, and it’s not the sort of tired that a good night’s sleep is going to fix.

For a long time, I’ve been someone who just gets on with it. What else are you supposed to do when life doesn’t stop because you’re struggling? You get up, go to work, look after your family, deal with whatever shit has landed in your lap and carry on because things still need doing. People see you functioning and assume you’re coping. You get so used to saying “I’m fine” that sometimes you say it automatically, even when you’re anything but.

The trouble is, just because you can keep going doesn’t mean you’re alright. You can laugh with people, get on with your day and still be fighting battles nobody knows a thing about. Some scars are visible, but plenty aren’t. People don’t see the things that go through your head when you’re alone, the memories that catch you off guard or the effort it sometimes takes just to keep yourself together. They see what you let them see, and sometimes that’s a very small part of the truth.

I’ve had times when I’ve felt completely broken and wondered how much more I was expected to take. Times when I haven’t had the energy to be positive, find a lesson in what happened or turn another painful experience into some inspiring story about how strong I am. Sometimes things hurt, and that’s all there is to say about them. You don’t always need to find a silver lining, and you don’t owe anyone a version of yourself that makes them feel comfortable.

I’m learning that I don’t have to push through every single feeling just because I’ve spent so much of my life doing exactly that. Sometimes I need to stop and admit I’m struggling. Sometimes I need a cry, some quiet or a bit of space from everyone else’s problems. There are days when all I can manage is getting through that particular day, and I’ve had to learn that this doesn’t make me lazy, weak or any less of a woman.

That doesn’t mean sitting in pain is easy, either. When you’re used to keeping busy and looking after everyone else, being still with your own thoughts can be bloody uncomfortable. You can’t always distract yourself from what’s going on inside, and you can’t force yourself to feel better just because you’ve decided you should. Healing isn’t a neat little journey where you deal with one thing, tick it off the list and never struggle with it again. Sometimes you make progress and then something happens that knocks you sideways. That doesn’t erase the work you’ve done, but it doesn’t make the setback any less frustrating.

I’m also learning that surviving something doesn’t mean it didn’t affect me. I can have made it through difficult experiences and still carry the impact of them. I can be grateful for the people who have stood by me and still need time on my own. I can love people and say no to them. I can care about someone without taking responsibility for every problem they have. And I can have a bad day without deciding that all the work I’ve done on myself has been for nothing.

That’s a big part of what Scars Build Queens means to me. It isn’t about women pretending they’re invincible or posting pretty words about rising from the ashes while quietly falling apart behind closed doors. It’s about being honest. It’s about recognising that women can have been through some truly awful things and still be figuring out what life looks like afterwards. We don’t all heal in the same way, at the same pace, and some days we don’t feel particularly powerful at all.

I don’t think being a Queen means having everything sorted. It doesn’t mean never crying, never doubting yourself or always knowing what to do next. Sometimes it means being honest enough to say, “I’m not doing great today,” instead of pretending otherwise. Sometimes it means asking for help, stepping away from something that’s hurting you or simply giving yourself permission not to have all the answers.

So if you’re having one of those days, you don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You don’t need to explain your entire life to people who haven’t earned that access, and you don’t need to turn your pain into a lesson for somebody else. Take the time you need. Have the cry. Be angry if you’re angry. Rest if you can. Talk to someone you trust if keeping it all inside is becoming too much. Give yourself the same bit of understanding you’d probably offer another woman who was struggling.

And when you’re ready, work out what comes next. It might be a big step forward, or it might be getting through the next few hours without expecting so much of yourself. Either way, you don’t have to do it all at once.

My scars are part of my story, but they aren’t the whole of me. They don’t mean I’m damaged goods, and they don’t mean I’ve magically come out the other side of everything untouched. I’m still learning, still dealing with things and still having days when life gets on top of me. I reckon a lot of women are doing exactly the same, even if none of us says it out loud.

That’s why I want SBQ to be about real women and real lives, not perfection. There’s room for the strong days, the shit days and all the complicated ones in between. You don’t have to pretend you’ve got it together to belong here.

Scars Build Queens. 🌹

Real women. Real stories. No pretending.