5 Insights I Gained Right After Nearly Giving Up

I almost quit everything over a soggy sandwich.

I wish I was joking. But there I was — standing in my kitchen at 11:42 p.m., holding what was supposed to be dinner-slash-late-night-coping-fuel, only to find the bread soaked, the cheese sad, and my patience absolutely extinct. I dropped to the floor like I was in a movie scene, except no one was watching. Unless you count my cat, who blinked once and went back to licking her foot like I wasn’t unraveling on the linoleum.

That night wasn’t about the sandwich. Not really. It was about months (okay, years) of trying so hard — in life, in work, in whatever this “journey” is — and feeling like nothing was shifting. I was showing up. I was doing the mindset work. I was journaling and trying to manifest and even drinking more water, which should have earned me a spiritual badge of honor. But still, I felt stuck in a loop. One step forward, two existential crises back.

And so, in the spirit of full transparency, I’ll admit something I never thought I would: I nearly gave up on all of it.

Not in a dramatic “burn it all down and disappear into the woods” way. (Although that did sound oddly peaceful at times.) But more like a slow, invisible surrender. I stopped caring about my goals. I stopped believing I could figure things out. I wanted to unsubscribe from the “keep going” pep talks and just let life go quiet for a while. Maybe forever.

But here’s the thing. The universe — or maybe just my inner voice disguised as a sarcastic bestie — had other plans.

Because right after I hit that emotional rock-bottom disguised as sandwich soup, the strangest thing happened: I started hearing truths. Not like voices in my head (although at that point, wouldn’t have been shocked). But real, honest insights that surfaced like little floaties in the middle of my mental shipwreck. Stuff I had ignored before. Stuff I wasn’t ready to hear until giving up felt easier than continuing.

It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t a montage moment where I suddenly turned my life around and got a book deal. (Still waiting on that, by the way.) It was just a slow, gritty realization that maybe — just maybe — the breakdown was actually a weird kind of breakthrough in disguise.

So if you’ve ever sat on the bathroom floor wondering what the hell you’re doing with your life — or if you’ve considered quitting everything and starting a snail sanctuary in the desert (no judgment) — this post is for you.

Because the insights I gained right after nearly giving up? They didn’t fix everything. But they shifted something. And sometimes, that’s enough to keep going.

Let’s talk about those 5 insights — the ones that came after the cry, after the collapse, and after the part where I almost walked away.

1. You Don’t Have to Be Strong All the Time (Seriously, You’re Allowed to Crumble)

I once thought being “strong” meant powering through everything without flinching. Crying was a luxury. Rest was for people who weren’t chasing Big Dreams™. But apparently, being a human isn’t a 24/7 motivational reel.

When I was nearly giving up, I finally let myself collapse. And it was… freeing. Not graceful, but freeing. Turns out, my breaking point was also my permission slip to stop pretending I had it all together. Because I didn’t. And I don’t. And the world didn’t end.

Sometimes falling apart is how we release the stuff we were never meant to carry.

There’s strength in letting go, in saying “I can’t do this right now,” and in being messy without guilt. What I thought was failure was actually a pause I desperately needed. The kind of pause that reintroduces you to yourself — stripped of hustle, ego, and performative optimism.

2. Rock Bottom Has a Weird Way of Rewriting Your Priorities

Here’s something wild: when I was lying on my bed googling “Is it too late to switch careers at 30?”, I realized half the things I was chasing… I didn’t even want. I had been performing ambition like it was a stage play I didn’t audition for.

Hitting the bottom stripped me of the noise — the pressure, the expectations, the fear of not being enough.

And what was left? Clarity. Like, awkward, uncomfortable, “maybe I don’t even want this job/lifestyle/dating app bio” kind of clarity. But still, clarity. I realized I was more afraid of disappointing people than I was of actually failing. And that realization alone made me want to start over — with intention.

When you’re nearly giving up, you start asking better questions. Not “how do I achieve more?” but “what actually matters to me?”

3. Growth Looks a Lot Like Grief Sometimes

No one tells you this part. They say things like “you’re evolving” or “you’re leveling up” — which sounds great until you realize it involves mourning the old version of you.

I didn’t expect to feel so sad about letting go of things I once loved — the habits, people, even identities that used to define me. But when I was nearly giving up, I started grieving my past self. The one who thought everything would be easier by now. The one who believed effort = outcome. The one who still romanticized struggle.

Letting go of who you were is a quiet kind of heartbreak.

But that’s what growth is, sometimes. A funeral and a rebirth happening at the same time. It’s not cute. It’s not linear. But it’s real. And it makes space for something better — something truer.

4. Your Timeline Is Not a Universal Truth (It’s a Suggestion, Not a Deadline)

Okay, so apparently you don’t need to have it all figured out by 25, or 30, or whatever arbitrary age Instagram influencers told us was “peak success.” Who knew?

The pressure to arrive made me feel like a failure every time I didn’t hit a goal on time. But when I was nearly giving up, I realized I was comparing my slow, confusing, real-life process to other people’s curated highlight reels.

There is no expiration date on becoming who you’re meant to be.

My timeline is mine. Your timeline is yours. That’s it. And maybe the delays, the detours, the weird reroutes are actually building something better — something we’re just not ready to see yet.

5. You’re Not Behind — You’re Just at a Plot Twist

This one hit me like a plot twist itself.

I thought I had failed. I thought I was late. But what if I wasn’t behind — I was just in the middle of the story? The chapter that doesn’t look like a win yet, but is one. The chapter where everything goes sideways… right before it starts making sense.

Every low point I’ve hit has secretly been a turning point. I just didn’t know it yet.

When I was nearly giving up, I thought I had lost the thread of my life. But the truth? I was just between scenes. And maybe you are too.

Why This Really Matters

We glorify the comeback, but we rarely talk about the moments before it — the silence, the spiral, the “should I just quit?” whisper that echoes in our heads.

But that’s where the real shift begins.

Because when you’re nearly giving up, you’re not weak. You’re just at the edge of something honest. And that edge? That’s where the mask falls off. That’s where the distractions die. That’s where you finally hear yourself again.

These moments of surrender aren’t the end — they’re the invitation.

To choose differently. To breathe slower. To love yourself even when your life looks like an unfiltered mess.

And sometimes, the most life-changing breakthroughs come after the part where we almost stopped believing there was still a point.

Conclusion

Remember that soggy sandwich breakdown? Yeah, it wasn’t the end of my story — just a deeply unglamorous turning point. One I didn’t ask for, but desperately needed.

I don’t have it all figured out now. (Spoiler: I still cry at random commercials and occasionally argue with my Google Calendar like it’s a person.) But those insights? They stayed with me. They help me breathe when everything feels too loud. They remind me that nearly giving up doesn’t mean you’re broken — it just means you’re human.

So if you’re sitting in your own low moment, wondering if it’s too late, too hard, too messy — it’s not.

You’re not behind. You’re not failing. You’re just at a plot twist.

And maybe — just maybe — something better is waiting on the other side of this moment.

You don’t need to have hope right now. Just don’t walk away before the magic kicks in.