April: A Letter to Myself About Sitting with Discomfort
Learning to stay present with what hurts—without rushing to escape it.
Dear me,
You’ve always been good at surviving. At doing what needs to be done. At carrying on even when everything inside you feels like it’s unraveling. But surviving and feeling aren’t the same thing, are they?
This month, I want to talk to you about discomfort. About the ache you carry but rarely acknowledge. The parts of you that feel too tender, too messy, too heavy to sit with for long. I know you’d rather keep moving. Keep busy. Keep fixing. You’ve convinced yourself that forward is the only safe direction—but healing doesn’t always look like movement. Sometimes it looks like pausing. Sitting. Letting it hurt without trying to rush past it.
And I know that’s hard for you.
Because discomfort has always been tied to fear: fear of breaking down, fear of being too much, fear of never recovering if you really let it in. But you’re learning now, slowly, that sitting with your pain doesn’t make you weak. It makes you honest. And being honest with yourself is one of the bravest things you can do.
There’s no timeline for healing. No checklist for grief or sadness or anger. Some days you’ll feel fine, and then suddenly, you’re not. That’s not failure. That’s being human.
Lately, you’ve been learning to notice your feelings instead of escaping them. To sit with your own sadness without explaining it away. To be angry without turning it inward. To admit, “This is uncomfortable—and I can survive this, too.”
Do you realise how far you’ve come?
You used to run from your emotions like they were wildfires. Now, you’re learning to hold space for them. To feel the heat and stay anyway. And in those moments, something shifts. You soften toward yourself. You remember that you are not something to be fixed—you are something to be felt.
So here’s what I want you to remember this April:
Discomfort is not a problem to solve. It’s an invitation to listen.
You are allowed to feel it all—the good, the painful, the in-between.
You can sit with what hurts and still be okay. Still be whole. Still be healing.
With gentleness,
Me
Your Turn to Reflect:
What emotions have you been avoiding lately?
What would it look like to sit with them instead of pushing them away?
Can you offer yourself compassion in the places where it hurts most?
You don’t need to fix yourself. Just be with yourself. That’s where healing begins.
Resources to Explore:
Book: It’s OK That You’re Not OK by Megan Devine – A validating take on grief, pain, and emotional honesty.
TED Talk: We Don’t Move on From Grief, We Move Forward With It by Nora McInerny – A real and powerful perspective on sitting with loss.
Journal Prompt: What’s something uncomfortable you’ve been trying to avoid? Write about what it feels like to face it instead.
Podcast Episode: The Beauty of Discomfort from Ten Percent Happier – On staying present through life’s most challenging emotions.
A Gentle Reminder:
You don’t need to escape what hurts to heal it. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is stay. If this letter spoke to you, subscribe to follow along with this series, and let’s keep growing together.
“Letters to Myself” is a yearlong journey of reflection, growth, and becoming. Join me every month as I explore the past, present, and future through heartfelt letters. Subscribe to follow along and be part of this thoughtful journey.
"There’s no timeline for healing. No checklist for grief or sadness or anger."
Yes Salwa, true words.
I gave in to my emotions, allowing it to wash over and through me. Perhaps that also saved me in a way. I didn't try to fight it.
I feel this deeply, especially now, as I sit with the discomfort of realizing that someone I once called a friend isn’t who they claimed to be. It’s not easy to face, especially since I saw glimpses of this truth years ago but chose to look away. The ache of betrayal, even quiet and unspoken, is heavy. But I know that running from it won’t honor my integrity. So, I’m choosing to pause, to feel the sting of it fully, and to let it teach me something about boundaries, about discernment, and about the kind of energy I want in my life.