Krishna's answer to a warrior who dropped his bow wasn't fight harder
Arjuna froze on a battlefield facing people he loved. The Bhagavad Gita's fix for paralysis has nothing to do with courage.
The Bhagavad Gita opens mid-crisis: the warrior Arjuna, looking across a battlefield at cousins, teachers, and old friends arrayed on the opposing side, lowers his bow and says he'd rather not fight at all. It's a reasonable response to an impossible situation. His charioteer, Krishna, doesn't argue him out of his grief or insist the war is righteous. He goes after something underneath the grief.
Krishna's core teaching is a concept usually translated as nishkama karma: action performed fully, without attachment to its fruit. Do the work in front of you completely, he tells Arjuna, but release your grip on whether it succeeds, whether it's recognized, whether it turns out the way you're hoping. The paralysis wasn't really about violence. It was about Arjuna trying to control an outcome that was never his to control in the first place, and freezing under the weight of that impossible job.
This is easy to hear as detachment in the sense of not caring. It's closer to the opposite: caring enough to act, while refusing to let the result be the price of your own peace of mind. You can pour everything into a project, a relationship, or a cause and still not be wrecked when it doesn't land the way you pictured.
The battlefield is a metaphor for anything you're avoiding because you can't guarantee the ending. The Gita's answer isn't to guarantee it. It's to stop needing to.