(#38 ISW) The Beauty of Being in the Middle of Struggle
Middle of It - Lainey Wilson
The Do Selfish Well Newsletter’s Introspection Song of the Week (ISW) series is meant to aid your self-exploration by uniquely tying songs with thought-provoking topics for you to think about yourself in new ways, and sometimes, to show you that you’re not alone. Check out the main articles for more in-depth discussions on select topics related to the Newsletter’s underlying philosophy.
In this article, we welcome
of The Self-Worth Journal who shares her own thoughts and experiences tied to the message in this song. If you enjoy her contribution, I encourage you to explore her publication in which she writes about embracing her self-worth and beautiful cultures to live her authentic life. I have indicated where I am speaking versus Sheila in the below.[ALEX]
When Your Brain Stages an Insomnia Intervention
After sleeping for only two hours over the course of three days, life was not fun. I was a zombie moving through the world. My body was heavy and slow, my brain drunk. Every second felt like I could fall asleep if I just closed my eyes—standing, sitting, or laying down, wherever I was. But when I did, sleep never came, only frustration.
I was exhausted. My body desperately needed rest. But my brain? It was done watching how I lived and was staging an insomnia intervention to make sure I paid attention to what it was saying. And pay attention I did, seeing that I was left with no other choice.
This was the middle—the period at the heart of a challenging transition, when nothing feels stable, the difficulty setting is maxed out, and we don’t know where we’re going. I had purposefully started trying to find myself again after straying too far for too long, but I didn’t expect the middle. The middle sucked.
And yet, somewhere in the exhaustion of this experience, something shifted. I began to recognize that there was also so much beauty about being in the middle of this difficult period.
Beauty in the struggle and the effort to keep going. Beauty in my compassion for myself growing. Beauty in the breakdown of my resistance to changing. Beauty in the differences I could notice in myself along the way.
The recognition of this beauty made me appreciate the process more. It made it a little easier to be with the struggle and growth rather than focused only on the finish line.
That is what truly allowed me to grow.
Because here's the thing—when we're in the middle of a difficult period, we don't know how far we are from the start or the finish line. We often don't even know what that finish line looks like.
If we try to take control like we know which turns to make, we might never find the finish line at all. Instead, we're better off letting the struggle take us where it wants us to go.
If You See a Sign, Follow It
Over the following months, I found myself pulled towards things it felt like I was meant to do. Each felt like a breadcrumb leading somewhere I couldn't yet see.
Possibly the most striking was finishing the book Quiet by Susan Cain—a lawyer (like me) turned author (possibly like me)—and feeling so seen that I went to message her on LinkedIn only to discover that she was launching a new community on a Substack platform I had never heard of. Two weeks later I was on the first group zoom call with Susan.
From that point, it wasn’t too long until I started my own newsletter on Substack. Something I never could have imagined would be on the other side of lying awake in the middle of the night unable to sleep.
Your middle might look completely different from mine, but following what so strongly resonates with you that it feels like a sign might help you discover where yours is taking you.
Spend time with yourself so you can hear and feel what your brain is trying to tell you. Notice where your mind keeps trying to take you, what it wants you to think about.
Let the uncertainty you feel open possibilities rather than handcuff you in anxiety. Take the chance to learn about yourself wherever your mind takes you. Be open to opportunities that arise which you might not ordinarily have taken.
Struggle and pain are often catalysts for creative ideas, new connections, stronger relationships, and greater understanding. You never know what might happen when you engage with what comes to you. You very well may end up with something great that you never expected at all—that wasn't even on your radar at the start.
Romanticizing the Struggle
Now, I sort of romanticize those days when I couldn't sleep—when I felt like a zombie moving through the world. There was a lot of extra time to think about, process, and journal my feelings, and some of my most profound revelations came during the dead of night.
I look back on the insomnia days with not only fondness but pride that I had the courage to dive deep and do the difficult work for myself. Those days will certainly be one of the most important periods of my life. I’m grateful they happened even if I’m not eager to go through them again.
The middle is tough, requiring patience and trust that your journey knows where it's taking you. But remember that next time you find yourself smack dab in the middle of it—your sleepless nights might be leading you exactly where you need to go.
[SHEILA]
I remember standing at my sink three years ago, staring at the pieces of what I thought was my forever life, scattered around me like feathers after a bad pillow fight. I’d been working and striving to build my life and future in a country that had become my new home but fate had a different plan for me. Nothing I had been working towards was working, I was brokenhearted and disappointed. Did I really have to pack my things and relocate back home again? It seemed to be the case because looking at my current circumstances that was the only tangible choice. The career I'd built felt stagnant, the relationships I'd invested in did not succeed, and the version of myself I'd been so sure about—all of it suddenly felt foreign. I felt like I was watching someone else’s life. I really felt like a Sophomore stuck in a slump.
I packed up everything and moved, I didn't know what was ahead of me all I knew for sure was I could stay with my mum whilst I looked for something for myself. That was not the plan, actually never the plan because I never pictured myself moving back home, but here I was, a whole apartment less and just my suitcase in hand to start all over. This was my middle.
In my blurry vision, I realized something profound: when the old roots get torn up, we get to choose what we plant in their place. The decisions we make in the middle don't just help us survive—they set the foundation for who we're becoming. Every choice becomes intentional when you're building from scratch.
I started small. Instead of panicking to fill the void with familiar things, I sat with uncertainty. I asked myself questions I'd been too busy to consider: What do I actually value? What kind of person do I want to be when this is finally over? Is this decision that I have taken going to benefit me and others?
I answered these questions in my journal, and as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, I realised that each day, even though uncertain, was getting me closer to my dream. Every morning, I chose to get up, and every day I chose to engage with my current state rather than ignore it, because not only was I living with my mum, I also wasn’t certain about my job situation. So, every moment I chose hope over despair, and this became the rock on which I leaned. Now this is where real resilience was built, I believe. Not the kind that comes from avoiding difficulty, but the kind that emerges from walking through fire and discovering I won’t be scarred.
The middle gave me something I didn't expect: the opportunity to choose who I wanted to be instead of just accepting what was served. I could decide what I wanted to root my self-worth in—not other people's expectations of who I should be, where I should live and what achievements I should have by now. I decided to root them in lasting truths I got to define for myself. I am worthy of this new life and love that I seek. I am worthy because I choose to show up and do my best to get the things I desire. I am valuable because I decide to believe it.
Now if there was anything apart from hope that held me together it was my faith, but here's what I learned about faith in the middle of it all—it's not about giving up responsibility and waiting for someone else to fix everything, it’s about taking those steps in uncertainty and hoping for a miracle. Faith became my best friend, and I believed that my engagement with the process would lead somewhere meaningful, even when I couldn't see where. Faith that my pain had a purpose, even when it felt pointless and I was about to give up. I kept on going because I had faith that I was being prepared for something I couldn't yet imagine.
I relied heavily on faith, and though I am a very spiritual person, I know there is a difference between spiritual bypassing—where we use faith as an excuse to avoid the hard work—and spiritual engagement, where faith gives us the courage to do the hard work. I prayed, yes, but I also showed up, I trusted, and I took action. I believed in something greater than myself (for me it’s God), but I also believed in my own ability to participate in my transformation.
I left a permanent job with a good salary, my own flat, and a car and no partner to share it with to start from scratch with no job security, living with my mum and commuting hours to get to work. The decisions I made in those middle months saw me journaling through the confusion, sitting with discomfort instead of running from it, and choosing growth over comfort. Those choices are still paying dividends today as I live happily together with my partner in our house and have a permanent and stable job.
Had I known this was going to be the case, I would have been less worried in the middle months because I planted seeds in soil that felt barren. Now I'm living in the garden that grew from that faith-filled engagement.
Looking back now, I realize that middle season wasn't just something I had to survive but rather something I had to embrace. When I was in the middle I couldn’t see how far I was to the finish line or the start but today I know every tear and any effort I put into it was well worth it. Those days when I felt most lost were also the days I was most found because those were the days I asked some serious questions. My confusion was actually clarity in disguise, showing me what I no longer wanted so I could make space for what I did.
It’s funny, and I thought I’d never agree, but the line that goes “one of these days, you're going to miss these days” is true. I don’t miss the pain or disappointment or uncertainty, but I do miss the open possibility that presents itself for us to rewrite our stories. I have come to appreciate the middle in such a profound way, not to rush it but to ask- what is being asked of me and who am I to become, right here in the middle.
Take care of yourself,
Alex
Here is a link to The Self-Worth Journal again if you enjoyed Sheila’s writing.
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