There Remains Strength in Defeat
TW: Mention of suicidal thoughts, chronic pain, abuse, and mental health struggles.
To everyone who is feeling it all right now (existential angst, hopelessness, helplessness, fear…) — this is for you.
To put it simply; I was not supposed to be here… whether it was in my earliest days, before my life took any form but certain family members found out I was a girl and had decided those should be my final moments…
Or, when I was 18 years old, and I felt confident that there was nothing for me in this world anymore… moments when I was calling suicide help lines in my dorm room, hoping for the suffering to end. But that was precisely it; I only needed the suffering to end, not my being.
For some reason, now more than ever, I remember it like it was yesterday: shaking vigorously, repeating in my head how I would say my final goodbyes — who would I even say them to? Thinking about everything and nothing at once; feeling utterly disconnected from both myself and the world around me. There I was, not knowing how my life would end in that moment… when the caller on the other end echoed back my own words, perhaps with a hint of understanding. But he didn’t have the words I needed. I realized he was confused that I had no actual plan to end my life, and as a result, would not help me. It took me by shock — why would I need a plan? I called because I desperately wanted to be understood, to know I wasn’t crazy for living a life in pain and loss. I needed someone to tell me I’d be okay. Yet knowing, let alone feeling any of this, seemed unreachable.
Whether it was because of my lack of a plan, or lack of self-harm, I knew there was something… this invisible string pulling me to the surface even when I never knew where the light was; I just couldn’t see it any longer. Clearly, it was always there, deep down hidden somewhere in the crevices of my being, guiding me even through the times I saw absolutely nothing in the pitch-black of defeat and helplessness. I remember thinking there would be nothing that night to pull me out out of this darkness and fog… and rather amusingly, it ended up being the caller that riled me up just enough to feel deep empathy for others who might face the same dismissiveness.
In retrospect, it makes sense: after all, anger often arises in the face of injustice, and it can be a catalyst for necessary change. People close to me have often commented on my resilience, on how I smile through the pain — but wonder where exactly that optimism stems from. And truthfully, I don’t know where it comes from either (maybe I never will). But I do know that in those moments when I smiled, I also felt anger, despair, and hopelessness. From a young age, I was forced to question my existence, to navigate chronic pain (and the nightmares and fears that manifested alongside it), abuse, and the added weight of people exploiting my vulnerabilities.
How did I survive? Simple — In my mind: Daydreaming… wondering… discovering whatever I could from the confines of my bed, where pain was constant, nightmares ran rampant, and familiar screaming and fighting were background music. I had no choice but to find magic in every moment, light in the darkness, wisdom in the ignorance. I learned to see beauty in all the ugly truths of the world. In time, I learned to advocate for myself, to stand up for what was objectively right, and to distance myself from those who sought to hurt me. People often think that after experiencing these events, one becomes rigid and cold — but who says strength and vulnerability cannot coexist?
Staying connected to my compassion and love for the world’s possibilities is what saved me. Despite lacking any sense of belonging within an academic setting, especially after my health challenges, I still found my insatiable curiosity for the world propelling me forward. It was in one fleeting moment some months ago that I felt like I was uncovered from beneath a pile of rubble — as if I sparkled for just a second, and somehow, I was truly noticed, just as I was. It helped me see myself too. I realized then how much I had endured, how fiercely I had fought to change the course of my life, not only for myself but for those around me. I knew I had to keep pushing, to make my existence about more than the things that had tried to destroy me. This realization sparked something deep within me, reigniting a fire that had been burning since I was a little girl — a desire to acknowledge everyone around me, to appreciate the beauty in their existence, and to understand who they are at their core.
My goal is simple: to make others feel seen and heard, to help them understand the power of their voices and their existence in our interconnected world. It feels as though that invisible thread, the one that pulled me up from the depths time and time again, has led me here — to be a living reminder of your own prowess in the midst of defeat, chaos, and uncertainty. No matter how surreal and heavy it all feels right now, remember that you must move forward with intentionality. The way you show up — however imperfect or small it may seem — matters more than you know. Your presence, your voice, your heart are all essential pieces of the collective strength we need to navigate these stormy waters.
You matter; your existence matters; your ability to feel deeply in a time of defeat matters. Your willingness to show up, in whatever way you can, matters. Your authenticity, empathy, and compassion are lights in a lost society, no matter how far you may feel from the shore. Lean on those around you, strive to understand each other, and let yourself feel without judgment. Embrace life in all its rawness, and perhaps you’ll see that we’re all in this together.
Even though I’ve only felt this freedom for a few months, I can say with certainty that there is most definitely magic in the world. It’s woven into the smallest moments, into the connections we make, and into the way we find light, even after the darkest of times.
As Rumi reminds us: “If everything around seems dark, look again, you may be the light.”
- Lavleen Walia
Cover image credits: Blue Horse Photo Magic
