The Wall – when you stop fighting

Nothing has changed – and yet something is different.

You look up at the sky, take a breath – and something inside you suddenly feels lighter. Not because the wall has disappeared. Not because you have finally received what you have waited so long for. But because for the first time, you no longer run into it.

Do you know the feeling of running against the same wall for years? Not out of stupidity. Not out of defiance. But because you are convinced that your path continues exactly there. Because you believe that something is waiting for you on the other side. Something you cannot explain and that nevertheless will not let you go.

And yet people tell you: “Let go.” – “There are other ways.” – “You see a path where there is none.” But what if it feels different to you?

You could take a detour. You could try to be content with other answers. For a while, that might even work. But eventually, you find yourself standing before the same wall again.

So you keep fighting. With hope, pain, love, will, and this almost unshakable belief that something must change if you only hold on long enough. And every time, you are met with the same silence.

Eventually, you know this wall better than yourself. You analyze every crack, every unevenness, every change. You look for patterns and signs, for that one spot that will prove you were not wrong. Where others simply see a wall, you see a story. Perhaps even a possibility.

And that is exactly what makes it so difficult. Because as long as you believe that somewhere a crack must open, you cannot stop searching. You interpret the silence, question your perception, and eventually even begin to doubt yourself.

Why does nothing move, even though it feels like so much? Why are all this wanting, hoping, and understanding not enough?

Eventually, this vulnerable child inside you rages, unable to understand why some things have to be so difficult. Why others can seemingly just keep going, while you always end up back at the same point. Not out of envy. Out of pain.

Why can't I just let go?

And then something happens. Not in a peaceful moment. Not after everything has finally been explained. But perhaps exactly when you have once again collided with full force against this old wall.

A moment. Raw. Real. Inevitable.

Your heart is still screaming, your mind is already searching for the next explanation – and suddenly, there is this one thought:

Perhaps the wall does not have to fall.

Perhaps freedom was never dependent on what lies on the other side.

That hurts. Because it does not mean that what you believed in suddenly becomes meaningless. It also does not mean that you must have been wrong. It only means that you stop making your life dependent on whether something changes that you cannot change yourself.

And suddenly, there is nothing left to prove. Nothing left to decipher. No more round in which you hope to finally find the right spot this time.

The wall is still standing. But you no longer run into it.

Perhaps that is exactly the moment when something changes. Not out there, but inside you. You no longer need a gate. No key. No explanation for why some things were the way they were, or why something did not become what you had imagined.

You can keep the story without being trapped in it any longer. You can love something without having to possess it. You can have believed in something without waiting the rest of your life for proof. And you can move on without saying that it meant nothing to you.

Because perhaps letting go is not the opposite of love. Perhaps it is the moment when you stop losing yourself to it.

The wall is still standing. But you no longer stand before it.

You walk. And this time, not away. But onward.

Séverine 💫