It’s Okay to Not Be Okay: Finding Rest in the Shadows

A Place in Shadow

Life has been stressful recently. I find myself putting on a brave face when I talk to people. Not because I want to, but because I feel like I have to. Even when I try not to be brave, people rush to feed me hope and positivity, as if their words can lift me back into the light. And so, I smile and say, I’m okay.

But I’m not okay.

I don’t want to go to that bright, positive place just yet. I need a break. The space people expect me to be in is too bright. What I need is a little shadow — a place where I can simply be. A place where I can feel sad, exhausted, or worried, without pressure to be anything else. Only the shadow allows these feelings to exist without judgment.

We often think of darkness as something to be feared, something we must escape from as quickly as possible. But sometimes, darkness isn’t the enemy. Just like how the cool shade offers relief on a scorching day, or how the night sky allows us to rest, we all need moments where we can step away from the relentless brightness of forced positivity. Even the earth turns away from the sun each night, not as a failure, but as part of its rhythm. Sitting in the shadow doesn’t mean we’ve given up; it simply means we are allowing ourselves to acknowledge what is real.

Of course, it would be wonderful if life always offered clear solutions to our struggles. But sometimes, no matter how hard we try, there’s nothing much we can do. Accepting this doesn’t mean we’ve lost hope entirely—it just means we’re acknowledging the dark moments instead of forcing ourselves to escape them. Hope will come in its own time. Instead of using all our energy fighting against what we cannot change, we can take a break in the shadow, allowing ourselves to rest until the light returns.

As a counsellor, I often sit with my clients in the dark. I have worked with people whose lives were held in limbo—stuck in systems beyond their control, where justice was slow and hope felt like a distant luxury. In those moments, there were no easy answers, no quick solutions to make things better. Their pain was real, their exhaustion valid. My role was not to push them toward optimism or to insist that things would improve. Instead, I sat with them. I listened to their stories, again and again, as they tried to make sense of their struggles. I acknowledged their pain, their frustration, and the helplessness we both felt in the face of an unfair system. We talked about how to get through the days, about small acts of care, not as a way to force positivity but simply as a way to exist in the waiting. I let them know they were not alone.

In my own life, I’ve found that embracing the shadow doesn’t mean dwelling in despair—it means giving myself permission to feel, to pause, and to breathe. Sometimes, resting in the shade is the only way to regain the strength to step back into the light. Whether it’s taking a quiet walk, playing the piano, or simply sitting with a cup of tea, these moments of stillness allow me to honor my emotions without pressure to fix them right away.

Not all struggles can be solved right away, and not all suffering can be eased with hopeful words. Sometimes, what we need most is not to be pulled into the light but to have someone sit beside us in the shadow—until we are ready to step forward on our own.

What if we allowed ourselves to rest in the shade for a while, without guilt? What if we let others do the same? Perhaps in doing so, we would find that the light will come in its own time, when we are ready to welcome it.