Life Is Allowed to Suck

Why feeling the hard stuff is part of healing

I have this habit (and I’m almost positive I’m not alone here) where no matter how bad something is, I feel compelled to slap a little “but it’s okay” band-aid on it. As if saying the words out loud will magically neutralize the misery. Spoiler: it doesn’t. It just makes you feel like crap and like a liar. But here I am, still doing it. I’ll be in the middle of a full-body meltdown saying, “This is fine, we’re fine, everything’s fine,” while internally screaming, “This is so NOT fine, but if I keep telling myself it’s fine, it will eventually be fine, right?”

The Road Trip That Wasn’t

Case in point: a few weeks ago, I road-tripped from Northern Idaho to the Bay Area in California with my boyfriend to move into our new apartment. It was supposed to be dreamy, a Pinterest board of scenic drives, beautiful hikes, and coffee shop stops, all tied together with that fresh-start energy you get when you’re moving into a new place. And for about three minutes, it was. (Okay, that’s an exaggeration; I got about a day and a half.)

Then my hip and back injury (the one I’ve been dealing with for over a year) decided to make a dramatic reappearance. One wrong move on a hike, and suddenly my boyfriend was carrying me down the trail like some tragic, romance-novel damsel, except instead of a ripped bodice, I had a towel filled with ice from our cooler strapped to my back, the seat reclined as far back as it would go in our car, and blankets wrapped around me to prop up my hip and spine. Not exactly the dreamy road trip vibe I had in mind.

I couldn’t stand for long, sitting hurt even more, and I was plowing through pain pills and lidocaine patches like it was my job. And still, every time someone asked, I’d say, “Yeah, it’s been rough… but it’s okay.” or “Yeah, it hurts to stand and walk… but it’s fine.”

The Airport Wake-Up Call

When we got to the Bay Area, I only lasted a week before heading home (though it was already part of the plan). I had to fly back to Idaho to get an MRI, meet with specialists, and navigate a potential endometriosis diagnosis. Sitting on a plane when sitting is your least comfortable position is… an experience. And by “experience” I mean torture.

I needed a wheelchair in the airport because my hip and back were so unstable, and when I landed and got settled at my house in Idaho, my aunt, who had come to visit, asked, “How was the flight, Vaeh?”

I gave my usual performance: “It was horrible… but it’s okay.”

She just looked at me and said, “Why do you always do that? If it fucking sucked, say it sucked. Stop trying to make it okay.” And honestly? She was right.

When Positivity Becomes a Coping Mechanism

It hit me that I have been so committed to keeping up my positive mindset that I’ve turned it into a full-blown coping mechanism (one that, ironically, isn’t actually helping me cope). It’s like I’m so allergic to negativity that I’d rather gaslight myself into believing I’m fine than admit, even for a second, that I’m not.

And the truth is, this whole situation? It does fucking suck. I am in pain. I am exhausted. I have cried so much that I’ve started having the “wait, am I crying too much?” mental conversation in my head, which is its own kind of unhinged.

Here’s what I’ve been realizing lately: slapping the it’s okay Band-Aid on everything isn’t helping me, or my pain. If anything, it might be adding fuel to the fire. To the pain. To the internalized rage and grief. To that “this isn’t fair” energy I’ve been ignoring for so long. When you keep ignoring something, it doesn’t disappear; it festers. What if all that hurt I’ve been shoving down, then sugarcoating with but it’s okay, is just manifesting into something angrier in my body?

And here’s the paradox: I do believe thoughts hold power. That’s why I’ve kept trying to out-think my pain with “I’m fine, it’s okay.” But the truth is, your truth also has power. Naming what hurts, being honest about your feelings, is what allows them to move through you. Manifesting from a low vibration does you no good anyway, and when you’re in pain or stuffing down your emotions, you’re already stuck in a lower vibration. The truth is, it’s hard to manifest from a low vibration. So instead of bypassing it, the work is to actually feel it. Let it be shitty. Let it be real. Because once it’s spoken, it can finally start to loosen its grip.

Let Yourself Feel It

The shift happens when you realize this: letting yourself feel bad doesn’t mean you’re giving up. You can be honest about how much something sucks and still look for the small moments that feel good. The trick is not skipping over the hard part.

Feel it. Let it move through you. Cry if you need to (and I clearly do). Then, when you have the capacity, reach for those micro-moments that tether you back to yourself, five minutes in the sun, the first sip of coffee in the morning, journaling even if it’s just to say “everything sucks”, or watching the trees sway in the wind.

Not because they’ll erase the pain, but because they remind you there’s still beauty here, even when life feels objectively garbage.

The Light Still Finds a Way In

So the moral of the story is, yes, life is allowed to suck. You are allowed to admit it. You are allowed to stop slapping “but it’s okay” on everything like it’s emotional duct tape. I’m not telling you to go out complaining to everyone about how bad you feel, but I am saying to let yourself sit with and feel your emotions. Because sometimes the most healing thing you can do is stop pretending the storm isn’t happening, sit down in it for a while, and trust that you’ll still find a little light breaking through the clouds.

If you’ve been here too (trying to duct-tape your way through the hard stuff), reply and share your story. I’d love to hear it.

with love,

Nevaeh