Thursday 30th April 2026
There’s something particularly overwhelming about the idea of something being permanent. Whether it’s DPDR, depression, anxiety, an eating disorder, a physical illness, grief, or just a life that looks completely different to what you had imagined for yourself. The fear isn’t always the feeling itself, it’s the thought that it might never change.
Because if it never changes… what does that mean for your future? For your happiness? For the life you thought you’d have? That’s a heavy thing to carry. And it’s important to say this clearly: this fear is valid. You’re not dramatic for thinking it, you’re not weak for struggling with it, and you’re definitely not alone in it.
There’s a lot of messaging out there about staying positive, shifting your mindset and choosing happiness. And while there is value in that, it’s often not that simple. You can’t tell someone going through something deeply painful, physically or mentally, to just “look on the bright side” and expect that to fix anything. Pain deserves to be acknowledged, and struggle deserves space. If you’re finding things hard, there’s a reason for that. Whatever you’re facing, it’s allowed to feel overwhelming.
But what if we shift the question from “what if this never goes away?” to “how can I still build a life anyway?” This shift isn’t about ignoring reality. It’s about learning how to live alongside it. Not by forcing yourself to believe everything will magically disappear, but by loosening your grip on needing it to. Because the truth is, some things do pass, some things ease over time, and some things completely fade. But some things don’t, and that’s the part no one likes to talk about.
So instead of placing your entire future on whether something goes away, there’s another option. What if your life doesn’t have to be on hold while you wait? What if you can still create moments of joy, connection, and meaning, even if things aren’t perfect? What if this isn’t the end of your life… just a different version of it?
I recently read The Let Them Theory by Mel Robbins, and I would recommend it to anyone who struggles with the need to know and control everything in their life (guilty as charged!). From reading the book, I’ve learnt to let things be what they are. Let people be who they are, and do what they do. Let life unfold in ways you didn’t plan. And most importantly, let go of trying to control what you can’t. Because a lot of fear comes from wanting certainty, wanting guarantees, and wanting to know that everything will go back to how it was or turn out the way you want it to. But life doesn’t really work like that. The more you fight reality, the more exhausting it becomes. The more you try to force control, the more stuck you can feel. There’s a strange kind of peace that comes from saying, “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’ll handle it.”
Another trap we all fall into so easily is comparison. It’s so easy to look around and feel like everyone else is living the life you want; carefree, happy, healthy, grounded. And when you’re struggling, that contrast can feel unbearable. Why them? Why not me? Why does everything feel so easy for everyone else?
But comparison is a losing game. You’re comparing your internal experience (your hardest, most vulnerable moments) to someone else’s external, polished highlight reel. You don’t see what they carry or feel what they feel. And most importantly, their path isn’t yours. More often than not, comparison doesn’t motivate you, it traps you. It keeps your focus on what you don’t have, instead of what you can still build.
Because even when change feels hard, a new normal doesn’t always mean a worse one.
That is one of the hardest things to accept. Sometimes life doesn’t go back to how it was before; before DPDR, before grief, before health complications, before relationship breakdowns, before job loss, before trauma. And most of the time, you don’t go back to who you were before. But that doesn’t automatically mean your life is worse. It’s just different. And different can still hold joy, growth, and moments that feel real, meaningful, and even beautiful. You might have to adjust, do things differently, and be more intentional with your mindset, energy, and boundaries, but that is far from a sign that your life is over.
You don’t need to have everything figured out or feel amazing every day. You don’t even need to fully accept your situation yet. The goal for now can be as simple as: I will do the best I can with what I have today. Some days that might look like getting out of bed. Other days it might look like laughing with a friend, going for a walk, or feeling a small sense of calm. Those moments matter more than you think. They’re proof that even within uncertainty, life is still happening.
Some things that help me on a day-to-day basis are reminding myself, “whether it feels like it or not, I am real, and so is the world around me,” and “I have the right to enjoy things just as everyone else does.” I take photos to look back on, to remind myself that I was there in the moment, even if it didn’t feel like it. My ‘spaced out’ symptoms may still be present, but I don’t allow them to be in charge and dictate how I feel anymore.
And if it ever does go away? Then you’ll meet a version of yourself who is stronger, more resilient, and more self-aware than you ever expected to be. Someone who knows how to sit with discomfort, understands what it means to rebuild, and doesn’t take the small, ordinary moments for granted. Either way, whether things change or they don’t, you are becoming someone who can handle more than you think.
The fear of “what if this never goes away?” is heavy. There’s no way around that. But it doesn’t have to control your entire life. You are allowed to feel scared. You are allowed to grieve what you’ve lost. You are allowed to wish things were different.
And at the same time, you are also allowed to keep going. To build a life alongside the uncertainty. To find moments of light within the heaviness. To slowly, gently, create something meaningful.
Not because it’s easy.
But because your life is still yours.
And that’s always worth something.
Here to chat, always.
Kate x
Mostly Kate 