One day, I realized that so much of life comes down to how we respond to deprivation. Deprivation is often a mindset—a belief that we lack essential resources or qualities. It’s the sense that we’re lingering on the edge of survival, with nothing beyond it.
Deprivation can manifest in both tangible and psychological forms. While tangible deprivation, such as poverty or lack of basic resources, is undeniable and urgent, this article will focus on the psychological aspect, where my experience and insights lie.
Through this lens, I hope to raise awareness of how psychological deprivation affects us, approaching this complex subject with compassion and offering insights for those navigating emotional or mental challenges.
In my experience, every time I felt as if everything was about to end, it turned out to be another emotional state—a place from which I simply had to gather myself and move forward. Over time, we learn to live with the loss.
When I understood that every ideal or quality I held in my mind was a construct, I also realized that deprivation is, too. It’s simply another story we tell ourselves. So, I decided to observe, unpack, explore, and ultimately reframe my experience with deprivation.
Deprivation, like other ideals, can also be psychological. In fact, we often create this sense of lack and structure our lives around the fear of approaching its edge. We dread facing our failures and lows. Yet, when we allow ourselves to fully experience these fears, we become unbreakable. In doing so, we confront the worst that could happen—and discover that we can endure it.
Accepting my deprivation felt like diving headfirst into my defeat. I surrendered to my failure, prepared to embrace everything it would bring. We fear this, as it seems to signal an end—much like death itself. In essence, fearing deprivation is akin to fearing a psychological death.
When we confront the reality of our deprivation, we discover the power to create and reinvent a new source of life. This becomes the foundation of our abundance, as we are, in a sense, building a new life from the ashes of the old.
When you fully accept your deprivation, you take accountability for it. You focus on unlearning the systems that no longer serve you, gaining insights and direction for your next journey, and learning to trust what lies ahead. Why? Because from this point onward, there is nothing left to fall back on.
Deprivation pushes you to hit your lowest point, only to rise again as your best self. The true gift lies in the experiences along the journey, for they will teach you everything you need to instinctively know to move forward.