When Rah-Rah Isn't Reality

A woman responded to a post today with words that made my heart ache. She'd been reading all the stories of healing and moving past and rah-rah cheer and even though she was doing everything she could to try and grab on to a piece of that positivity for herself, she just couldn't. It just wasn't her reality.
Not right now.
And that's okay.
If there's anything worse than feeling like you're in the darkest place of your life, it's feeling like you're in the darkest place of your life and you should be able to fix it.
And yet, you haven't a clue what you can do. And even if you had a clue, you aren't sure you even want to fix it. 
You're tired.
You're defeated.
You're paralyzed.
So...
What do you do when none of the so-called solutions fit right now?
What do you do when others' stories don't match yours? When your husband isn't following the script? When you're exhausted from sleepless nights? When none of his promises mean anything? When none of this feels like it could ever turn out to be even remotely okay? When none of your so-called choices are good ones? When you're left with bad and worse? 
What do you do?
Nothing.
Doing nothing can feel radical. It can feel dangerous. We're a culture that rewards action. That rewards badasses who scream like hell about injustice, who take no prisoners.
Where's the glory in pulling the sheets over your head? Where's the power in curling up on the floor with the dog and sobbing into his neck?
But, even though it might feel counter-intuitive, even though it might feel scary, like if you loosen your grip for even a second any forward momentum you might have achieved will vanish like smoke, even though...
Nothing.
Well, not exactly nothing.
Doing nothing is doing something. It's letting yourself rest. It's letting your poor overworked brain stop trying to brainstorm your way out of this. It's trusting that you can loosen your grip and regain some strength. 
Glennon Doyle puts it this way: First the pain. Then the waiting. Then the rising. 
Waiting can feel like hell. But it's a crucial part of this. 
So, my dear wounded sister, everything in your response tells me that you're in the waiting period. The fallow period. When seeds are being planted but you don't yet see what's growing because it's deep in the ground.
Trust that you are healing. And that when the time is ready, you will feel stronger and clearer. None of this is easy. Hard news but the truth. But when it feels impossible, that's your cue to...rest. To wait.
And then, when you're ready, to rise again.