HARD THINGS AND HOW TO ACCEPT THEM |Part 1: Radical Acceptance|
By Cindy Finch, LCSW
This month in our DIALECTICAL BEHAVIOR THERAPY (DBT) group, we’re focusing on one of the most transformative skills I know: Radical Acceptance.
Radical Acceptance means completely and wholeheartedly accepting something painful—down to the bone. It’s when you stop demanding that life be fair, that the diagnosis not be true, that the person you love act the way they should. It’s the moment when you finally unclench and say, “Okay, this is happening.”
And here’s the kicker: when we stop fighting what is, we suffer less.
Let me tell you how I learned this the hard way.
When we were expecting our third child, I was diagnosed with cancer. My world flipped. I was pregnant. I was terrified. And suddenly I was a patient in an impossible situation.
To cope, I used warrior words. I told people I was going to fight this. I prayed that God would destroy the cancer. I needed that kind of language to feel strong, to survive.
But eventually, something in me knew I had to do more than fight. I had to let go of needing the whole thing to make sense.
Because here’s the truth: my body had created this cancer. This wasn’t some invader. It was me, against me.
One night, after yet another scan showed more bad news, I broke. I’d done all the things: chemo, radiation, surgery, prayer, supplements, snake oil. I couldn’t sleep. I sat in the dark bargaining, sobbing, obsessing. That night, my prayers changed.
From:
“Here’s what I need you to do, God...”
To:
“I’ve done everything. If I live, I live. If I die, I die. It’s yours now.”
That moment gutted me. But also—it freed me.
Radical Acceptance doesn’t mean resignation. It means clarity. It means I stopped leaking energy trying to control the uncontrollable, and started focusing on what I could do.
So I made two plans:
One for dying.
One for living.
If I was going to die, I was going to do it on purpose. What surprised me most was the sense of peace that came with finally facing the thing I feared. I had resisted even thinking about it—writing those letters, planning my funeral—because it felt like a betrayal of hope. But once I started, it didn’t feel like giving up. It felt like reclaiming my voice. I wasn't preparing to disappear; I was preparing to leave meaning behind.
I wrote letters to my kids. I created keepsakes. I made plans with my husband for what he could do next. It wasn’t just cathartic—it was empowering.
And if I was going to live? I was going to actually live.
I stopped treating every moment like a countdown. I drank my coffee slower. I noticed my kids’ freckles. I laughed more, prayed differently, and gave fewer damns about anything that didn’t matter.
And at night, instead of trying to fix the world, I whispered a breath-prayer:
“Into your hands.”
With each breath, my chest loosened. My shoulders dropped. My racing thoughts slowed. My body started to believe I was safe—even when I wasn’t.
Later, I added:
“It is what it is.”
“God has a plan.”
These small rituals became a lifeline.
Radical Acceptance isn’t agreement. It isn’t defeat. It’s the difference between someone still writing angry texts they’ll never send, and the person who changed the locks, cleared the calendar, and started a new playlist. One is stuck. The other is starting over.
Here’s what radical acceptance doesn’t mean:
You agree with what’s happening
You approve of it
You give permission for it to continue
You stop trying to change what can be changed
It simply means you’ve stopped arguing with reality.
And once I did that, I had energy again. To breathe. To rest. To imagine what might still be possible.
You don’t need cancer to practice this. You just need something hard—and we all have something hard.
When someone cuts you off in traffic…
When your child’s teacher emails you with “concerns”…
When the test results come back with that dreaded word: inconclusive…
That’s your cue.
Try this:
“It is what it is. I’m safe. That’s what matters.”
Repeat. Breathe. Soften.
Radical acceptance won’t erase the pain. But it will hold you as you walk through it.
I once had a client who had to face the unthinkable. Her son, in a moment of deep mental health crisis, jumped from a bridge over the 405 freeway. He landed on the pavement, was hit by two cars—and somehow, he survived. But then, while injured and unarmed, the police arrived. And instead of de-escalating or offering help, they shot him. He died at the scene. My client had to live with this: that her son was killed not by his attempt, but by the people who were supposed to help him. And then—she had to accept that the police department would not be held liable. Can you even imagine? Radical Acceptance didn’t mean she agreed with it, or that she forgave it. It meant she stopped spending her life in the courtroom of her mind, replaying what should have happened. Instead, she chose to live. To grieve with purpose. To speak out for others. To become a mother who survived the unbearable—and kept showing up for herself, for others, and for love.
Before you go…
If you’re holding on by a thread right now—if the loss, the injustice, the diagnosis, or the betrayal feels too big—please know: you don’t have to like it to accept it. You don’t have to understand it to survive it. You just have to stop demanding that it be different in order to begin again.
The most courageous people I know aren’t the ones who stayed strong. They’re the ones who finally let go.
What’s one thing you’ve been wrestling with? One piece of your story that refuses to go quietly? That might be your invitation. Not to give up—but to stop resisting. To trade the fight for freedom. To make a plan for dying and for living. To move forward as someone forever changed—but not destroyed.
You are not powerless. You are not alone. You are not done.
Next up: Difficult People.
How to accept the ones who still don’t get it—and probably never will.
With you,
Cindy Finch, LCSW
