The Teahouse of Resignation
You don’t remember exactly when you gave up — only that it felt like relief wrapped in defeat.
Resignation isn’t a tantrum. It’s not loud.
It arrives after too many battles, too many hopes raised and dashed.
It's the whisper that says,
"It’s easier not to try."
It’s not laziness or apathy, it’s weariness that has calcified.
A stillness that forms when action once failed to make a difference.
Resignation is the soft silence after the storm, when you stop asking for the sun to return.
Resignation says:
“I used to care.”
“I don’t know if I can hope again.”
“This is just how things are.”
What Is Resignation Trying to Tell You?
- You’ve endured more than your nervous system could carry.
- You once tried, deeply, but the outcomes felt fruitless.
- You may be protecting yourself from disappointment by disengaging.
- You long for something to prove your efforts still matter.
Invite Resignation in for Tea
Let it sink into the chair like someone who hasn’t sat down in years.
It may not speak much, or at all. It may only sigh.
Ask it:
“What did I once believe in that felt too heavy to keep holding?”
“Is there a part of me still quietly wishing to reengage?”
“What would make trying feel safe again?”
Resignation is not your enemy.
It is the pause before the return.
When heard and honored, it becomes the still soil where new willingness may one day root.
“Sometimes letting go is an act of immense courage.”