Sometimes, resilience is quieter.
It’s waking up after a night of self-doubt and still showing up for work.
It’s hitting “send” on a project you’re unsure about, but finishing it anyway.
It’s sitting in a meeting where your inner voice whispers, “You don’t belong here,” but you choose to speak up anyway.
That voice—imposter syndrome—has followed me many times. It shows up when I start something new, when I put myself out there, or when I compare myself to others. It tells me I’m not good enough, not ready enough, not smart enough. And yet, resilience is choosing not to let that voice decide for me.
For a long time, I thought resilience meant never breaking down, never feeling weak, and never admitting struggle. But life kept teaching me otherwise. Resilience isn’t about avoiding the hard days—it’s about moving through them, even when the progress feels messy or slow.
Looking back, some of my most resilient moments were the smallest ones. The times I chose to keep going when giving up felt easier. The times I raised my hand even though I was trembling inside. The times I pressed “publish” or “submit” even when imposter syndrome tried to convince me I wasn’t ready.
Resilience is not perfection. It’s not about being unshakable. It’s about being bendable without breaking.
And here’s the thing: resilience is not something you magically have or don’t have. It’s built, little by little, every time you choose courage over fear, hope over despair, and growth over comfort.
So if today feels heavy, I want to remind you: resilience isn’t about being unbreakable—it’s about knowing you can be broken and still find a way to heal, stand up, and move forward.
Maybe resilience is less about being strong all the time, and more about being real, patient, and willing to begin again—even when imposter syndrome tries to hold you back.
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