Storm-Proof

There was a time when a minor inconvenience could ruin my whole day. A snarky comment, a missed deadline, a plan that didn’t go exactly as expected—it was enough to spiral into frustration. I used to think resilience was about gritting my teeth and pushing through, but that’s not quite it. Resilience is when the storm doesn’t even register as a storm anymore.

I didn’t wake up one morning unshaken by life. It happened slowly, over years of being knocked around, making choices no one understood, and standing alone in rooms where I didn’t belong—until, eventually, the things that used to feel like tempests became background noise.

At some point, a switch flips. You realize you’ve survived worse. Not in a dramatic, “I’ve conquered mountains” way, but in a quiet, matter-of-fact way. You stop reacting to every gust of wind. You stop flinching at every raindrop.

And it’s funny, because people who haven’t been through storms will tell you to “stay strong” when you’re not even trying anymore. Strength isn’t something you hold onto with a clenched fist—it’s the ease of knowing you don’t have to.

Now, when things go wrong, my first thought isn’t panic. It’s “Alright, what’s next?” That shift changes everything. It’s the difference between drowning and knowing how to float.