How to Survive When Life Gets Tough
Life has a way of throwing heaviness and hardship at us when we least expect it. In those moments, it can feel incredibly difficult to maintain optimism, independence, and hope for the future.
Recently, my family has been navigating some unexpected health challenges. My husband has experienced complications related to an Inspire stimulator and chronic nerve pain. As we’ve searched for answers and waited for surgery to remove the device, we’ve learned that some of the pain may be permanent — or could take years to fully heal from.
Because the complication is so rare, there hasn’t been a clear protocol or roadmap to follow, which has made the process even more frustrating and emotionally exhausting.
The uncertainty has created intense emotions, financial strain, and sheer exhaustion. Much of the responsibility of holding things together has fallen on me — managing the next steps while trying to keep our family moving forward and reminding myself daily that “this too shall pass.”
But if I’m being honest, there are moments when I wonder when it will pass.
For the most part, I’ve continued using the coping skills I discussed in a previous blog post. I’ve had moments of uncertainty and impulsiveness too — including getting a new tattoo, which was honestly one of the most relaxing things I’ve done in months.
What I keep reminding myself is this: I cannot give up.
People depend on me, but beyond that, I depend on me. Weak moments do not define who I am. Hard days do not erase my strength. I can choose to dwell in the hardship, or I can choose to get up each day and keep hoping for better days ahead.
Right now, I’m trying not to let difficult moments derail my entire day.
Some days survival looks less like strength and more like small routines — drinking water, going outside, making pottery, answering one email, or simply getting through the day without shutting down completely.
Creating has unexpectedly become part of my healing process. It gives me something to focus on besides fear and uncertainty. In a season where so much feels out of my control, working with clay has reminded me that beautiful things can still be created slowly, imperfectly, and one piece at a time.
I’m still setting goals. I’m still trying to stay present. I’m still searching for small moments of joy in the middle of uncertainty.
Because if we lose the ability to enjoy the small things — a quiet moment, laughter, creativity, connection, rest — then what are we really fighting so hard for?
Maybe surviving hard seasons is not about pretending everything is okay. Maybe it’s about learning how to carry both grief and gratitude at the same time.
And for now, I think that is enough.