In Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, the main character Raskolnikov kills his landlady, a rich old cruel woman, and then suffers throughout the novel asking himself: “Was it morally right to kill someone who was cruel to others?”
Our mental struggles may not be as extreme as Raskolnikov’s, but they follow the same pattern. It shows up at 2 am when you’re staring at the ceiling fan, when you’re drinking your coffee in silence, when you’re ready for your office and take one last look in the mirror. Nights when you’re at war with yourself. Replaying arguments you had 4 years ago. Cringing over something you said 3 weeks ago. Scrolling through old photos. Sadness, nostalgia, heartbreak, anger all hitting you the same time.
You feel it in the pauses between life. A hollowness. A sadness. An emptiness that lingers on. A feeling you can’t quite put your finger on.
And when it gets too heavy, we run. Doom scroll till your fingers ache, drink till you’re numb, fill the ashtrays all night. Pretending it’s gone. But it always returns. And you wonder….
“Why don’t I feel good?”
Over the years, I’ve learned to see it as a signal. A signal that’s trying to tell me I’ve left a mental tab open for too long. An unresolved conflict. Some undefinable fear. Or stuck on a decision because I want it to be perfect. Life has taught me that escaping it will never fix it, but sometimes, a gentle yielding may.
Here’s are 8 gentle ways I’ve learned to stop fighting myself:
– rant it all out in a journal
Sometimes the problem isn’t that deep, it’s just that I’ve bottled up too many unprocessed emotion. And when that happens, your head may feel like a pressure cooker. Let out the steam by pouring everything on paper. But don’t do it clean. Not how to’s or solutions. Just let it all out. Unfiltered. Real. Raw. Like “I hate my job”, followed by “my boss is a real b*tch”, followed by “i don’t want to do anything like for a week”. And before you know it, you’re saying to yourself, damnnnnn this feels gooood.
– just go outside without naming what it is
Not a health walk. Not an “ideas” walk. Not a podcast walk. Just… a walk. Your legs taking you somewhere. No photos. No phones. No people. No destination. Just you walking. Feel the sun on your skin. The breeze in your hair. The rhythm of your own steps. Sometimes it’s just your body craving its old ancestral rhythm. And a simple walk is enough.
– cry it out without shame
I have no shame in accepting as a man , I’ve cried. Many times. Sometimes life gets too heavy. Emotions burden you. It needs an outlet. But we’re taught to hold it in. To be “strong.” To smile through it. But sometimes the most healing thing you can do is let yourself break. Close the door and just cry. Not the polite teardrop kind. The ugly, snot-all-over-your-face kind. Crying is your body’s natural release valve. Let it out without shame.
– stare at something ordinary until it feels holy
A mug. A crack in the wall. The tree outside. The clouds in the sky. Look at it longer than you think makes sense. Your brain slows down. Details start to bloom. The crack becomes philosophy. The tree whispers. The clouds become paintings. The ordinary becomes strange and beautiful. This grounds you in the present. And stops you mind from spiralling. You notice the beauty in little things. And perhaps, that’s what you were seeking all along.
– take a “tiny rebellion” break
Do something pointless on purpose. Something that makes no sense. Eat dessert before dinner. Read a children’s book instead of a productivity article. Wear pajamas at noon. Go to the grocery store, wander around and come back. Tiny acts of rebellion remind your nervous system life’s not as serious as you think.
– take a cosy long shower/bath in silence
Turn off the light. Light a candle. No podcasts. No playlists. No distraction. Just hot water on your skin. Stand under the shower. Or relax in the tub. And just let the silence scrub your mind clean.
– use the balm of philosophy
We all have that one quote of philosophy that takes us back home. Something you scribbled on a tissue paper, underlined in a book, took a screenshot of. Something that feels true. Honest. Like for me, somedays it’s: “It will pass, like always”. And other days it’s: “Just drink water”. It doesn’t have to to wise. It just has to be something that makes you feel okay again.
– go back to old playlists
Not the new ones. Not the chartbusters. Not the curated ones that promise calm. Go back to the old ones. The ones you made in high school. The ones you played on repeat during lonely commutes to work. The ones that soothed you when you didn’t need soothing. Because those old versions of you knew what you needed. They knew what healed you.
– reset back to boredom
When I don’t know what I want anymore, I know I’ve consumed too much. On advice. On perfect morning routines. On productivity hacks. On BookToks, pretending to be self-care. So I disappear. Not to “digital detox.” But to be bored again. To crave again. To get curious again. Sometimes for 2 hours, sometimes 2 days. I let my brain wander without a script.
final word…
I’m not saying this list will cure your existential fog or end all your suffering. I’m saying sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is to stop fighting yourself. To let the storm pass without resistance. To find peace, not in perfection, but in acceptance.
Because the truth is: life will always be a little messy. And maybe that’s where its beauty lies.
If this resonated with you, my book Born to Stand Out was written for moments exactly like this. For introverts who feel too much. Who overthink. Who carry battles inside them that no one else sees. It’s not another “fix yourself” manual. It’s a guide to embracing your quiet depth, reclaiming your voice, and learning to live with confidence in a world that rarely understands you.
Get you copy HERE.
Because you don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be you.
Stay blessed,
Karun