I used to think resilience was the moment you finally reach the mountaintop, arms open wide, looking back at all it took to get there, yelling, “I did it!” Or standing on a podium with medals around your neck, celebrating what it looks like to not give up even when times get tough.
But after actually standing on that podium and that mountaintop, I realized that’s not resilience at all. That’s the reward.
Resilience is something much quieter than that.
Resilience is the messy middle. The part nobody sees. The part where you don’t know how the story ends yet, and you keep going anyway. I know that place well.
In 2019, I suffered a serious injury to my left leg when I damaged my popliteal and femoral artery. Over the years, I endured 10 surgeries, years of recovery, uncertainty, and a future I couldn’t see clearly no matter how hard I tried. I went from being a three-time Paralympic medalist, a runner-up on Dancing with the Stars, and someone who had spent twenty years building an extraordinary life on two prosthetic legs to lying on my couch not knowing if I’d ever walk comfortably or fully feel like myself again.
And yet somehow, even in the depths of despair, I kept going anyway. Not because I felt strong, because most days I didn’t. I kept going because I believed that if I just kept moving one small step at a time, I would eventually end up somewhere other than where I was.
Sometimes those steps were incredibly small. Getting out of the bathtub after breaking down crying. Writing “be here now” on sticky notes to pull myself out of anxiety spirals. Doing sit-ups and pushups on my bedroom floor because I needed to feel my body moving again.
That’s what resilience really looks like.
It looks like surviving a day you thought might break you. It looks like showing up for your life when part of you wants to shut down completely. It looks like sitting in the unknown with no answers, no guarantees, and continuing forward anyway.
The interesting thing about resilience is that when it’s working the hardest, you usually feel your worst. When you’re standing at the top of the mountain looking back, that’s the reward. But when you’re in the middle of the climb, exhausted and uncertain, still putting one foot in front of the other, finding those slivers of hope that keep you going, that’s resilience.
I actually wrote a book while I was in the middle of the climb called Bounce Forward because, in all honesty, that’s where most of
us tend to be. In life, in business, and in reaching our goals and dreams.
Resilience after adversity isn’t just about the celebration that happens when you finally arrive somewhere. It’s the uncertainty, the grief, the healing, and the tiny decisions along the way to keep showing up for yourself even when you can’t yet see where the path is leading.
And I’ve learned that some of the most extraordinary parts of ourselves are discovered in that place. Not at the end of it. That’s when you figure out what you’re really made of and what matters most to you in life.
So if you’re in your messy middle right now:
You are not behind.
You are not broken.
You are in the place where resilience is built. And one day, you will look back and realize the moments where you thought you lost your way were actually the moments where you found yourself.
