Let’s get something straight.
If your life has been shaped by lies, emotional whiplash, shifting rules, and the constant requirement to adapt just to survive…
“Fuck it, I give up” is not a failure.
It’s a rational response.
Because at some point, continuing to try becomes self-harm.
You Can’t Win a Game Where the Rules Keep Changing
I wasn’t giving up because I was lazy.
I wasn’t giving up because I didn’t care.
I wasn’t giving up because I lacked grit.
I was giving up because nothing I did ever made things stable.
Try harder? The bar moves.
Be patient? It stretches indefinitely.
Be understanding? You get exploited.
Set boundaries? You’re punished for them.
Eventually, your nervous system figures out what your conscious mind keeps denying:
This is rigged.
And when a system is rigged, the only sane move is to stop playing.
“Resilience” Is Just a Pretty Word for Endurance Abuse
Let’s talk about the lie we sell trauma survivors.
“You’re so strong.”
“You’re so resilient.”
“You always land on your feet.”
What that really meant was:
You can take more damage without anyone changing their behavior.
I didn’t give up because I couldn’t handle life.
I gave up because I was tired of handling what never should have been mine to carry.
Shutdown Is Not Quitting — It’s Self-Defense
People love to pathologize shutdown.
Depression.
Apathy.
Lack of motivation.
Burnout.
But when effort consistently leads to pain, your body does exactly what it’s designed to do:
It pulls the plug.
“Fuck it, I give up” was my system saying:
I refuse to keep bleeding for people and systems that call it love.
That wasn’t weakness.
That was self-preservation arriving late, but necessary.
I Didn’t Lose Hope — I Withdrew It
Here’s the part that makes people uncomfortable:
I didn’t lose hope because I’m broken.
I lost hope because hope was being used against me.
Hope kept me compliant.
Hope kept me waiting.
Hope kept me tolerating what I should have walked away from years earlier.
So yeah — I gave up.
On false promises.
On one-sided effort.
On relationships where accountability never showed up.
On the fantasy that trying harder would finally make me safe.
What I’m Done With
I’m done explaining myself to people committed to misunderstanding me.
I’m done setting myself on fire to keep others comfortable.
I’m done confusing endurance with virtue.
I’m done being the adult in rooms full of people who refuse to grow up.
And if that looks like “giving up” to someone watching from the outside?
So be it.
The Truth No One Likes to Say Out Loud
Sometimes “giving up” is the first honest boundary a trauma survivor ever sets.
Not:
“I’ll try harder.”
But:
“I’m done.”
That sentence saved my life more than any motivational quote ever could.
So yes.
My mantra was “fuck it, I give up.”
And given what I survived?
It was the most self-respecting thing I could say at the time.
