Everyone goes through rough times.
Not just a single setback, but a series of misfortunes that feel like life’s light has dimmed, leaving behind a tangled mess.
Take my friend, for instance. Lately, his work, personal life, and emotions have formed a web of tension. Each issue alone might not be overwhelming, but together, they weigh heavily on him—so much so that he feels suffocated.
The other day, he was venting nonstop, trying to analyze his life in search of the point where things went wrong. I had intended to simply listen, but the more he spoke, the more I realized—he wasn’t truly solving problems. He was using “analysis” to generate more confusion.
He had unknowingly fallen into an inner loop of mental exhaustion: attributing blame, setting limitations, escaping into fantasy. It all seemed proactive on the surface, but in truth, he was sinking deeper.
When life feels out of control, it’s essential to let go of three things. This isn’t escapism—it’s a return to the heart, guided by the wisdom of the Buddha.
When life turns sour, we instinctively seek someone to blame—others’ negligence, unfair circumstances, or cruel fate. We point fingers outward, hoping that by naming the culprit, our resentment and sorrow might subside.
But the Buddha reminds us in the Diamond Sutra:
“If a bodhisattva holds the view of a self, a person, a being, or a life span, he is not a true bodhisattva.”
As long as we cling to the dualistic view of “I’m the victim” and “they are the wrongdoers,” we remain bound by delusion, far from the clarity of wisdom.
Blame fueled by aggression only adds fuel to the fire. It may feel like asserting ourselves, but it deepens our suffering by reinforcing division. Even worse—when the external world refuses to bend, blame often turns inward:
“I’m not good enough. I’m powerless.”
This is not resolution—it is entrapment.
Instead of asking “Who’s at fault?”, ask:
“Am I standing in the wrong place within my own story?”
In low moments, it’s easy to mistake temporary hardship for lasting truth. We begin to label ourselves:
“I’m not meant to speak up.”
“I’m not the kind of person who succeeds.”
“I just have bad luck.”
These voices may have originated from others, but over time, we internalize them as facts.
Yet the Diamond Sutra teaches:
“Let the mind arise without attaching to anything.”
The true self is not static. It lives in movement, in awareness, in compassion. You are not the label. You are the heart that perceives, transforms, and chooses.
Failure and hardship are conditions, not conclusions. They are signs of misalignment—not proof of your inadequacy.
Please don’t let temporary collapse define your permanent worth.
As the Buddha said:
“All phenomena are without self.”
You are not bound by any story.
“If only I had done this or that…”
This phrase often becomes our mental anesthetic when things fall apart. We revisit past crossroads, imagining that if we’d taken another path, we’d be better off now.
But the Diamond Sutra offers a piercing insight:
“The past mind cannot be grasped, the present mind cannot be grasped, and the future mind cannot be grasped.”
The past has vanished, the future hasn’t arrived. Only this moment is real.
Romanticizing the path not taken is just another way of avoiding the path we’re actually on.
Hoping for a savior or miracle in the future delays the inner responsibility to show up now.
Wisdom is not using fantasy as a painkiller, nor regret as a permanent frame.
You don’t have to be perfect. But you must live truthfully.
Reclaim yourself as the subject.
In existential psychology, there’s a saying:
“Existence precedes solutions.”
In Buddhism, we say:
“All phenomena arise from the mind.”
When we’re buried in problems, we forget—we are not side characters in the story. The Buddha never taught us to be passive recipients of fate.
Quite the opposite:
We are the initiators in the web of cause and effect.
Yes, you may say: “I was hurt.”
But more importantly: “I am processing this pain.”
You may say: “Life knocked me down.”
But more truly: “I am choosing to stand up again.”
Even in the most difficult times, you still have the power to choose.
You can choose to call this the end, or you can choose to call it a turning point.
As the Diamond Sutra states:
“All appearances are illusions. If you see all appearances as non-appearances, you see the Tathāgata.”
Misfortune is not your enemy—it is your training ground.
See it clearly, without judgment.
Face it, without avoidance.
Move through it, without clinging.
Even if clouds cover the sky, you can still be the light within your own heart.
Because the Buddha taught:
“When the mind is pure, the land is pure. If the mind is unmoved, not even the wind can disturb it.”
May you let go of blame, self-limitation, and fantasy in times of adversity.
May you return to the clarity of your true mind.
And may you always remember—
You are not the object of fate,
but the subject of this profound spiritual journey.
Emotional fluctuations are often dismissed as trivial, yet they hold deep sway over our physical well-being and inner clarity. Be Your Own Psychotherapist invites us to become compassionate observers of our own minds—to notice, understand, and gently tend to the waves of emotion that arise. Rather than seeking control, the book guides us toward harmony, offering tools to cultivate a freer, more joyful experience of life from within. Check it out.