“i am trying to figure out how to manage the next crisis.” a longtime friend and i were sitting in the warm sun on the patio of a downtown toronto café, sipping iced lattes, and watching a shiny red cardinal jump from branch to branch in the bare tree above us, calling for his mate through a matted bunch of twigs in his beak. she was exhausted, she said, resting her chin on one hand, and slowly massaging her temple with the fingers of the other hand.
it had been a rough bunch of years for her. from serious illnesses affecting her three children, the unexpected loss of her dad and family drama, to ongoing health crises with her mom and siblings, and most recently, her beloved step-dad’s cancer diagnosis, it’s fair to say that she deserved a break.
“i have realized that there will always be some kind of crisis happening in my family,” she said, sighing. “so then, i need to figure out how i can make it so i don’t get completely sucked in every single time. it’s just too hard.”
what she was talking about was resilience, but not really in the traditional sense — that unwavering ability to withstand stormy weather, move through it and recover relatively intact, mentally and physically. neither of us doubted that she had that in her.