What Keeps Me Going When I Feel Like Giving Up

There are days when everything feels heavy. Days when you wake up and you don’t even want to get out of bed. Days when the goals you once dreamed about now feel far away and blurry. And then there are those moments where giving up seems like the only logical choice, not because you’re weak, but because you’re tired. Mentally, emotionally, and physically drained. I’ve had those days more times than I care to admit. But even in the worst of those moments, there’s one thing, one powerful force, that keeps me going: my background, my family, and where I come from.

I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. In fact, I’m not even sure we had a spoon at all sometimes. Life in the trenches wasn’t poetic. It was raw, gritty, and real. Every meal, every school fee, every bus fare was a hustle. I’ve seen my parents break their backs to make sure we had just enough. I’ve watched my mother skip meals so we could eat. I’ve seen my father come home exhausted but still ask how our day went like it was the most important thing in the world. Those are the memories that ground me, even now.

So, when I start feeling unmotivated, I remind myself of the sacrifices that were made so I could be here. I think of my siblings looking up to me, even if they don’t say it out loud. I think of my parents, who never had half the opportunities I have, but still dared to dream through me. It’s not pressure. It’s fuel. It’s the kind of motivation that’s built into your DNA, where failure isn’t just your own. It’s a ripple effect that touches everyone who believed in you.

The trenches, as we call them, taught me survival, yes. But they also taught me hunger, the good kind. The kind that pushes you to work harder, think smarter, and push past your limits. I remember fetching water before dawn, doing homework by candlelight during blackouts, and selling little things just to have pocket money for school. None of it was easy, but it all built resilience. That’s why I can’t afford to give up. Not now. Not ever.

When life knocks me down and the voices in my head get loud, whispering things like “you’re not good enough” or “you’re wasting your time,” I fight back with memories. I go back to the days when I prayed for the things I have now. I remind myself that where I am now might not be where I want to be, but it’s a thousand miles from where I started. And that’s something.

I also think about what it would mean to return to the trenches with nothing to show for it. That’s not an option for me. Not because I’m too proud, but because I know too well what’s waiting there. I’ve lived it. I’ve survived it. And every step I take forward, no matter how small, is a step further away from that past. Not because I’m ashamed of it, but because I owe it to my family and to myself to break that cycle.

Motivation doesn’t always come in neat, inspiring packages. Sometimes it comes in the form of pain. Other times, in the form of guilt. But most times, it comes from love, raw, unfiltered love for the people who raised you, for the dreams you carry, and for the future you want to build.

So, whenever I feel like throwing in the towel, I picture my mother’s smile, my father’s tired hands, my siblings’ laughter, and the younger version of me, the one who dared to dream even when he had no reason to. That’s my reason. That’s my reason to keep going, even when the road gets rough.

Because at the end of the day, going back is not an option. I didn’t come this far just to come this far. See you later bye....

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