Two weeks ago, upon gaining an unexpected piece of knowledge, I found myself at an all-time low.

When I shared my experience with my friends, they all responded with the same phrase: “Give it time, you’ll move on.”

To avoid falling back into the same emotional ditch that had swallowed me before, I kept myself busy over the past few weeks, distracting myself so I wouldn’t have a chance to dwell on it. But yesterday, on an eight-hour flight with no internet or distractions, I had no choice but to confront it. I began to wonder what "moving on" actually means.

Let’s break down the phrase:

Moving: To go in a specified direction or manner; to change position.

On: Indicating the continuation of a movement or action.

With the most logical and rational mindset, it seems that moving on is like leaving your present state behind forever, almost like dropping off your trash at the garbage disposal, never to see it again.

So, will there be a specific trigger that makes me realize that my struggle is now officially in the past? Will there be a time when I can recount the experience like it’s a fictional story, one that I just happened to be a part of?

I don’t think I’ll ever reach that point because I no longer believe such a state exists.

While we all go through different stages in our lives, I am convinced that we are not like cameras. We can’t simply remove our 1TB SD card from early childhood and replace it with an empty one for our teenage years.

Instead, I think of us more as painters. With every experience—good or bad—we paint an image on a canvas. Right after creating our most recent work, that painting becomes our most prominent memory. But as we continue to create more works, we use the lessons learned from previous paintings, and our minds become more occupied with the new images we create.

The painting that was once our most prominent memory still exists (assuming you’re a recreational painter who never sells their work). When we revisit those earlier works, the emotions we felt while painting them resurface. These feelings don’t disappear just because we have a larger collection of paintings now.

So, instead of "moving on," I believe a healthier way to think about it is "living with."

Our perceptions of certain places, things, or people will often change, and it’s completely fair to grieve their loss.

But rather than expecting a eureka moment when we completely forget about that grief or can speak about it without any emotional response, we should acknowledge that such a day will never come.

And that’s okay. If life isn’t filled with struggles like these, then what is the point of living?

To be an optimist isn’t always to see the best in every person or every experience. It’s about being able to walk through a battle knowing that you have lived and that you will continue to fight.