Escaping the Lions Cage

Let’s talk about how we wear our story like a badge.

You know…

“I’m a fighter.”

“I’ve been through so much, and I’m still here.

"I don’t quit.”

And yes, that’s possibly you too.

We get it.

We’ve been there.

BUT

What if the fight isn’t strength?

What if it’s just habit?

Let me tell you a story about someone who’s been battling illness for years.

And how that constant fight…became part of who he thinks he is.

Like, if he stopped struggling, he wouldn’t know who he’d be anymore.

You see when we’re always fighting something (money, health, relationships, just trying to hold it all together) it’s easy to confuse surviving with living.

But real strength?

Sometimes it’s not about pushing through.

It’s about finally saying,

“This doesn’t have to be so hard anymore.”

In life’s arena we often find ourselves locked inside an invisible cage; its bars forged from struggle, endurance, and the relentless pursuit of survival.

We wear our story like medals —

“I’m a fighter,” we declare—proud of every bruise we carry, every night we spent wrestling with fear or circumstance.

Yet what if that fight isn’t an expression of strength at all, but merely a habit?

What if, in clinging to the struggle, we’ve mistaken mere survival for true living?

This essay unpacks the paradox of perpetual battle, examines how struggle becomes woven into our identity, and offers a path toward liberation:

The courage to lay down arms and discover what lies beyond endurance.

When the struggle becomes us.

Imagine a man—call him Danny—who has waged war against chronic illness for a decade.

Every morning, he braces himself for pain; every setback is catalogued as another enemy he has conquered.

Over time, that victory narrative morphs into something deeper:

“If I’m not fighting, who am I?” he wonders.

The answer terrifies him.

The fight has become not just what he does, but who he is.

In psychology, this phenomenon is known as identity fusion: when a role or behavior grows so intertwined with the self that to abandon it feels like erasure.

For Danny, and for many of us, the ritual of struggle confers purpose.

But it also imprisons us—anchoring our sense of self to an endless battle that robs us of joy, creativity, and genuine peace.

Surviving versus living.

Survival is instinctual.

When threatened, we dig in, muster every ounce of willpower, and refuse to yield.

In moderation, that instinct saves lives.

But when survival becomes the default mode, we mistake the gritting of teeth for progress.

We celebrate endurance—late nights grinding, frenetic multitasking, emotion-suppressing stoicism—while neglecting the art of thriving.

We confuse “not quitting” with “not limiting.”

Yet even the lion in its cage, though undefeated, is deprived of its rightful domain:

The sunlit savannah.

We, too, can become unbeaten captives—alive but unseen in our own stories.

Redefining strength.

True strength does not always roar.

Sometimes it whispers:

“This doesn’t have to be so hard anymore.”

To redefine strength, we must first question the altar on which we worship struggle.

Ask yourself: Which battles am I still fighting?

Which ones were gifted to me by circumstance, culture, or family lore?

When we inspect our fight list, we often find a few battles worth winning—and dozens more we took up by default.

Real power emerges when we choose our engagements strategically, embracing the fights that align with our deepest values and letting go of those that merely anchor us to past pain.

Three steps out of the cage.

Acknowledge the habit.

Begin by making a list of the struggles you carry.

For each, note why you continue fighting it.

Is the battle truly yours, or are you defending an identity shaped by others’ expectations?

By shining a light on habitual struggle, you dissolve some of its unconscious grip.

Cultivate compassionate curiosity.

Rather than berating yourself for clinging to conflict, approach your pattern with a gentle, investigative mindset.

What fear underlies your need to fight?

Perhaps you equate ease with laziness, or rest with vulnerability.

By naming your fear, you can begin to question its validity—and soften its hold over you.

Create corridors of possibility.

Once you’ve identified the battles you’ve unnecessarily carried, build experiments that explore unworn paths.

If you’ve worked tirelessly late into the night and equated exhaustion with worth, try a week of strict bedtime rituals—notice what shifts.

If you’ve defined yourself as the indispensable problem-solver, invite someone else to take the lead on a project.

Give yourself permission to fail at rest, or to feel awkward in a new role.

Each small experiment widens the cage bars until, eventually, they no longer restrain you.

Lessons from Danny’s journey.

Danny’s turning point came not when he conquered another symptom, but when he admitted,

“I don’t know who I am if I’m not sick.”

That confession cracked open his cage.

With the guidance of a therapist and the support of a few courageous friends, he started exploring passions he’d shelved long ago—painting watercolors, volunteering at animal shelters, even learning to dance.

At first, guilt and doubt trailed his every step: “I should be grateful to have survived,” he reminded himself.

Yet with each brushstroke and pirouette, he felt something new: delight.

Over time, delight grew familiar.

It competed with the old “fight” instinct until, finally, the need to struggle faded into the background.

Freedom Beyond.

Escaping the lion’s cage does not mean a life free of hardship.

Challenges will always arise.

But when we dispense with habitual struggle, we meet those challenges from a place of choice—not dogged obligation.

We learn to reserve our energy for the fights that matter:

injustices we can help right,

relationships worth nurturing,

dreams worth pursuing.

In so doing, we trade raw survival for vibrant living.

Our scars remain as testaments to our journeys, but they no longer define us.

We are so accustomed to wearing the fight like a badge that we rarely question what it shields us from.

By breaking the habit of struggle,

we rediscover the spaciousness of our own lives.

We uncover passions, experiences and identities that lie dormant behind the bars of endurance.

And we find that real strength often sounds like a sigh of relief—a quiet declaration that says,

I choose joy.

I choose ease.

I choose life.

May each of us muster the courage to unlock that cage and step, unburdened, into the sunlight.

If you would like to have a conversation to see what we do can assist you, we would love to hear from you.

Bruce and Dorothy.

theencoreentrepreneurs.com