When I think about resilience, it feels like it’s more than just bouncing back from hard times or struggles. Over the last two and a half years, I’ve heard people use the word resilience with me a lot, specifically when they talk about what our family has journeyed through with my son’s health. While I truly appreciate the kind words, it’s made me pause and reflect—what does resilience really mean to me?
It’s often used like a badge of honour, almost like I should wear it proudly as a symbol of my strength. But honestly, this badge can feel quite heavy at times. Like once I’m labeled as resilient, I need to keep up the image—to stay strong and keep pushing forward, even when I’m struggling.
Lately, I’ve been asking myself, Should resilience really feel like this? Should it come with this constant pressure to always be strong?
My relationship with resilience has started to shift. It’s not about always pushing through or being strong no matter what. I’m starting to see resilience as allowing myself to be vulnerable, to soften, and to accept that sometimes, I’m just not okay. For me, true resilience isn’t about never falling apart—it’s about recognizing when I do and giving myself the grace to rebuild at my own pace.
In those moments, I try to really tune in to what’s going on inside—emotionally and physically. I take a few breaths to check in. Is there tightness in my jaw? Am I clenching anywhere? Is there tension in my body? Sometimes, I notice that I’ve been on high alert for so long that I hit a point of complete exhaustion. Part of resilience is listening to my body, not just when I’m overwhelmed, but as a regular practice of care and compassion for myself.
One practice that is helping me is naming & witnessing what I’m feeling. There’s something so powerful about just identifying what’s going on inside me. When my shoulders are tight or I catch myself clenching my jaw, I’m practicing pausing and asking myself what’s really happening. It’s a more respectful way of checking in with myself. I don’t get it right every time, but I’m noticing that it’s getting easier on some days. This process of naming what I’m feeling creates this sense of awareness—it helps me acknowledge the stress, fear, or confusion I might be holding instead of ignoring it. And I’m learning that resilience isn’t about pushing through; it’s about honouring how I’m really feeling.
This process is becoming really important for me in building resilience. It’s so easy to get lost in the swirl of thoughts and emotions, but when I take the time to name what’s going on—whether it’s fear, worry, or confusion—it gives me a sense of grounding. Just observing what’s happening inside me without judgment is becoming a form of self-compassion that I’m embracing.
The importance of flexibility is something that I am reminded of regularily—not in the physical sense but in how I respond to challenges. I’m learning that resilience isn’t about being unbreakable; it’s about being adaptable. It’s about creating space for myself to bend, to soften, when things get hard instead of feeling like I need to power through. This flexibility is helping me get through tough times without collapsing under their weight. I don’t have to force things to get better—I can let healing unfold at its own pace, even when it feels hard.
As I make this space for myself, both physically and emotionally, I find myself imagining what healing might look like. I ask myself: What if I let go of fear? What if I released the tension I carry? I don’t need to have all the answers, but I’m learning to create space to explore what’s possible beyond the pain.
Resilience, for me, is becoming something I practice, moment by moment. As I reconnect with myself, I’m noticing that I face life’s challenges with more softness and grace. Healing is something that’s constantly evolving—it’s a journey that requires both patience and presence.
Resilience doesnt have to be about never experiencing pain or hardship, rather it can be about building a relationship with the self, one where I can hold space for both the pain and the possibility of healing. It’s a practice that unfolds with every breath, with each moment of self-compassion. And in that flexibility, I’m discovering my strength.
So much love,
Anitta
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