The Strength of Returning: What Resilience Really Looks Like
For the past several weeks, I've found myself checking in on someone I've never met. Her name is Kelsey Pfendler (@yourowkelsey), and she recently became the first woman to row solo from California to Hawaii. Think about that for a moment, forty-four days in the ocean by yourself. Crazy. Just her, a boat, the Pacific Ocean, and whatever each day decided to bring.
I found myself following her journey almost daily on Instagram. Some days the winds cooperated and other days the currents pushed against her. I am sure she experienced physical exhaustion, long stretches of isolation, and the mental challenge of waking up each morning knowing there were still countless miles ahead.
When she finally reached Hawaii, she hadn't just completed the crossing. She had broken every previous solo rowing record, men's or women's. As incredible as that accomplishment was, it wasn't the record that stayed with me. It was her resilience.
Watching her made me realize that we often think resilience only belongs to tragedy. But I don't think that's true. Sometimes resilience is learning to live after the death of a child, to navigating a difficult diagnosis, to caring for aging parents, to rebuilding after losing a job or quietly carrying grief that no one else can see.
And sometimes resilience is choosing to stay faithful to something that stretches every part of you because you believe it's worth building. It could be your marriage, a business, parenting, healing, training for a marathon, finishing an art project, or pursuing a dream. Building a life that reflects your values.
Some hardship finds us and some hardship comes because we've chosen something worth building. They both require resilience. That's what struck me while watching Kelsey row across the Pacific. Her challenge wasn't unexpected. She chose it. But choosing something meaningful didn't make it any less physically, mentally, or emotionally demanding.
The same is true for so many of the meaningful things in our own lives. That realization made me think differently about resilience. For a long time, I thought resilience meant being tough. You are supposed to push through, not complain, keep it all together, and pretend all is fine. I don't believe that anymore. The older I get, the more I think resilience has very little to do with pretending life isn't hard. I think resilience is about not losing yourself while life is hard. That's a very different thing.
One of the things I've noticed about myself is that when life feels overwhelming, the very habits that help me remain grounded are often the first things to disappear. I sleep a little less and exercise less. I become so focused on figuring everything out that I spend less time with the people who help me keep perspective. It's almost backwards. The things we need most are often the first things we stop doing. Maybe you've experienced that too.
Over the years, I've learned to ask myself a different question.
Not... "How do I solve all of this?" But... "What's the next right thing?"
That question has become an anchor for me. It reminds me to slow down and helps me acknowledge what feels difficult instead of pretending it isn't. The shift helps me gather the right information, lean on the right people, and reminds me that I don’t have to solve the next year today.
I've also come to realize that one of the biggest shifts in my thinking has been accepting that life isn't divided into good seasons and hard seasons. It's almost always both. Joy and grief go hand and hand. Hope and uncertainty share the same season. We celebrate one thing while quietly worrying about another. We grieve one loss while remaining deeply grateful for what still is. I've stopped waiting for a season where everything finally feels settled because I'm not sure that season exists.
Maybe resilience isn't waiting for life to become easier. Maybe resilience is learning how to remain yourself while holding both. For me, resilience has become less about toughness and more about returning. Returning to the routines that create rhythm, to movement, to good sleep, to conversations with people who know me well, and to time outside. Returning to the values that remind me who I am when life feels out of alignment. None of those things erase hardship. They simply help me find my way back to myself.
I think that resilience really is the quiet practice of returning. Returning to yourself, your values, and to hope.
Over the past three weeks, we've talked about awareness, freedom, and connection. Awareness helped us understand the stories that shaped us. Freedom reminded us that we have a choice. Connection reminded us that we need people who know the most honest version of us. Resilience is what helps us hold onto those things when life becomes difficult.
Next week, we'll conclude this series with the fifth and final pillar: Legacy. We'll explore how the ordinary choices we make each day become the life we build and the impact we leave on the people around us.
If you'd like to explore these ideas more deeply, these are the same conversations we continue in my online course, From Stuck to Free. Together, we'll walk through the five pillars: awareness, freedom, connection, resilience, and legacy as we learn not only how to become more fully ourselves, but how to keep returning to that person throughout life's changing seasons.
About the Author
Sarah Currie, Ph.D., LCMHC, is a therapist in North Carolina. Through counseling and writing, she helps people navigate life's challenges, deepen self-awareness, and build meaningful connections.