Maybe the moment was last year.

Maybe it was last month.

Maybe it was last night.

Maybe it’s right now.

Maybe it’s been an ongoing, seems-to-never-end, series of moments that have been drubbing you over the head for what feels like an eternity.

There’s a simple message you need to hear.

Don’t. Stop. Fighting.

Maybe you’re an executive or manager, and leadership has taken its toll on you. You’re mentally and emotionally exhausted. Stuff’s gone sideways on you, and you’re frustrated. You have nothing left to give. Sure, like anyone, you’ve made mistakes; but now you’re just beat up, worn down, and completely empty.

Don’t. Stop. Fighting.

[bctt tweet=”Maybe you’re tired, frustrated, and ready to quit. Don’t. Stop. Fighting. #leadership”]

Maybe you’re an entrepreneur, and the grind has you at your wit’s end. You’re starting to wonder if being an entrepreneur is really “your jam,” as the cool kids say. You’re exhausted. Tired. Discouraged. Confused. Ready to throw in the towel. Staring into the darkness and questioning everything has become a nightly ritual at this point. You’re drowning in a sea of doubt and despair.

Don’t. Stop. Fighting.

[bctt tweet=”Hey #Entrepreneur, Don’t. Stop. Fighting. #leadership #startup “]

Maybe you’re on staff at a credit union, community bank, or other retail store. Sometimes you love what you do; other times, not so much. More and more though, the latter days are outnumbering the former; and now, more often than not, you just want to punch a clock, sleepwalk through your day, and go home. You’re tempted to check your humanness at the back door; and instead of connecting to the meaning in your work and letting that make you come alive, you’re ready to throw your hands up and put your career and life on autopilot.

Don’t. Stop. Fighting.

[bctt tweet=”Don’t let yourself detach from the meaning in your work. #leadership #companyculture”]

Maybe, like me, you’re one of the literally millions of people out there who are living with some version of depression or an associated disorder. Maybe you have occasional bouts with it, or maybe it’s an ongoing, ever-present battle. Maybe, just maybe, no one even knows about your struggle. You feel utterly and entirely alone, even when — and often especially when — you’re surrounded by people.

You go to work with it. You come home with it. You wake up with it. You go to bed with it. The darkness, emptiness, and numbness have so completely swallowed you up that it seems like every last bit of light in the world has been extinguished. And it’s in those moments — those dark, dark moments — that the scariest thoughts creep in. Those thoughts you wouldn’t dare utter out loud. Those thoughts you wouldn’t dream of admitting to anyone else you’d even entertained for a second. Those thoughts you can’t imagine would even show up on a blog like this.

But you see, I’ve been there. I know what those moments are like. I know what it’s like to write that final note. I know what it’s like to stare at your signature through tear-filled eyes. I know what it’s like to shift your eyes from the signature to the pills. Or the gun. It’s those moments when you feel like it’d be easier for you and everyone around you if you just weren’t there anymore. But those thoughts — all of those sorts of thoughts — are lies our sickness tells us. Don’t you dare — not even for one minute — believe those lies.

I challenge you…I beg you…

Don’t. Stop. Fighting.