Clinging to Shadows

“When Love Fades and Survival Becomes a Daily Fight“

There are times in life when the very things that once gave us joy—our relationships, our bonds—start to unravel. Love, once a source of light and strength, turns into a distant memory, leaving us wondering what happened to the connection we once cherished. It’s a quiet shift, subtle at first, and then, all of a sudden, it’s everywhere—seeping into every corner of our lives. When this happens, we find ourselves in a place where the struggle to survive emotionally becomes a constant, daily fight.

Imagine this: I used to be able to focus, to find fulfillment in my own work, in my passions. But now, I can't even do that. My own work—something that used to give me purpose—has become difficult to face. Why? Because the weight of unresolved arguments, emotional distance, and the tension in a relationship I once valued has taken over. It’s not just the arguments that hurt. It’s the aftershocks—the way they steal your energy, cloud your mind, and make the simplest tasks feel impossible.

In this space, where love and comfort once lived, I now find myself clinging to the smallest, most insignificant things for some sense of normalcy. It’s strange how the tiniest wins, things that once went unnoticed, start to feel like lifelines. Like when I manage to get a window seat on the bus, and for a brief moment, I tell myself that things are okay. Or when I reassure myself that money will come, even though the deeper emptiness still lingers. Even the feeling that my hand won’t hurt tomorrow becomes a little flicker of hope. These fragments of external validation become all I have, tiny crumbs of survival in the absence of emotional fulfillment.

The sadness creeps in when you realize how much you've changed—how you’ve begun to live off these scraps, like an old soul seeking out small victories, just to get by. The love that used to fill you up has faded, leaving you grasping at whatever external comforts you can find. Some might tell you that external validation doesn’t matter, that true happiness comes from within. But when you’ve been drained emotionally for so long, you find that you don’t care about that advice. You just want something—anything—that makes you feel alive, even for a moment.

There’s a particular struggle that comes with trying to survive this way. You start to build walls, to protect yourself from further hurt, but in doing so, you also isolate yourself from the things that might heal you. The external comforts are fleeting, and you know deep down that they’re not enough. But they’re all you have. You’ve built yourself around these moments, telling yourself that they will get you through. And maybe they will, for a time. But the cracks are there, and you feel them widening each day.

It’s a lonely fight. You’re caught between the life you had—the love you cherished—and this new reality, where survival means finding comfort in the smallest things, because the bigger things are too painful to face. It’s not a choice anyone wants to make, but when love fades, sometimes survival is the only thing you can hold onto.

If you’re living in this space, you’re not alone. It’s okay to admit that you're struggling, that the fight to survive is hard. It’s okay to find joy in the small things, even if they feel insignificant. You’re doing what you need to do to make it through. But remember—survival is just the beginning. Healing is the next step, and that, too, will come in time. For now, it’s enough that you’re holding on, even if it’s by the smallest threads.