First we crumble, then we rise: How resilience is born from adversity
I don’t know why I was drawn to her, other than a sense that something about her was familiar in some way, as if we were meant to be friends. When we met, I was going through a difficult time, the eight month period between my father’s terminal cancer diagnosis and his passing. I had two young sons and was finishing my doctoral degree. The roots of our brief friendship were planted precariously, in the shallow, common ground of raising small children in the same town. Looking back, I can sense the early warning signs in her foreboding tales of friendships abruptly ended, her small social circle and her refusal to accept my offers of help or company following a surgical procedure. I ignored these indications of a potential landmine and proceeded forward, eager, desperate even, for a strong interpersonal connection that would support and sustain me during those painful months.
While I had other friendships at the time, this one felt new and promising. Most of my friends were too busy having babies and raising young children to help me cope with the stress and sadness associated with my father’s decline. Somehow, she was available. We took long walks and talked about my family and hers. I felt supported in ways that met my needs at the time; she checked in regularly and often asked if I needed help driving my son to or from pre-school. Little did I know that each time I said “Yes, thank you so much” to her generous offers, I was giving her ammunition to fortify a weapon that would later be used against me.
My father passed away in the summer of 2000 and my third son was born in May 2001 following a difficult pregnancy. With three boys under the age of 5, I needed more help with child-care and felt completely exhausted and overwhelmed. Having come from a family in which my mother didn’t drive, I was accustomed to her depending on others for rides. My father thrived on picking up AAA trip guidebooks for random friends, delivering delicacies from the Lower East Side to neighbors and schlepping my grandmother to all of her errands and appointments, I was raised on the principle that you help others in need and ask for help when you need it. It never crossed my mind that someone might feel burdened or resentful when I asked for a favor or accepted offers of help. This blindspot put me in the perfect position for a collision with a woman who was raised to believe that asking for or accepting help was selfish and inconsiderate.
In August 2001, we moved into a new town with a new pre-school, knowing almost no one other than the woman I believed was my friend. I dropped my oldest son off for his first day at the new school on September 11, 2001 at 9 AM, just as the plane hit the first tower. The terror of that day unfolded, leaving most Americans feeling shaken, unsettled and fragile. Less than a month into a new community, already overwhelmed by postpartum exhaustion and the strain of parenting young children, I felt myself teetering into a realm of severe anxiety as the nation reeled from the terrorist attack.
My mood and anxiety levels hovered precariously as I struggled to take care of my boys and find child-care. In mid-October, by the grace of G-d, the woman who would become my boys’ nanny and my savior for the next 12 years entered our lives. To this day, I am grateful beyond words to the compassionate entity who sent Acklima to our home during those dark days. I genuinely don’t know how I would have managed to function without her at that time, especially given what happened next.
I entered the pre-school community as a new parent at a time when the whole country felt lost and vulnerable. There was no warm welcome, as everyone was trying to regain their own sense of stability and safety in the world. I noticed almost immediately that the only person I knew, the woman I thought was my friend, was withdrawing from me. I felt vulnerable, terrified and alone. Within weeks, she called to unleash her arsenal of accumulated grievances against me: “You’re selfish. You ask people for help. You can’t take care of your own children….” I felt her words landing in my body like punches, each one knocking me closer to the ground and taking my breath away. By the time she was done, I felt diminished and defeated. She had launched an assassination on my character and at that time, I didn’t have the strength or resilience to tolerate the attack.
The combination of losing my father, parenting small children, moving into a new community, witnessing the events and aftermath of 9/11 and experiencing a harsh personal attack by someone I had believed was a friend overwhelmed my capacity for coping. I felt shaken to the core by the words she used to describe me and doubted any sense of myself as a decent person who someone would want as a friend. Confused and ungrounded, I felt myself sliding into a state of depression and anxiety.
When my feelings of despair, doubt and anxiety didn’t resolve after a few months, I realized I needed to seek psychological care. I made a difficult commitment to leave my boys home with Acklima and drive to New York City once a week to attend group therapy. As I didn’t have the luxury of time to waste, I planned to address my issues directly and openly with the random group of individuals who gathered weekly to discuss their struggles in relationships and daily living. I wasn’t there to be smart, helpful, charming or insightful. I was there to experience the group members as mirrors, reflecting back to me the aspects of myself that caused me to struggle. Was I selfish? Inconsiderate? An inadequate mother? A likable friend? The truth would be revealed in the 90 minutes I spent each week squeezed next to relative strangers in a New York City therapist’s office.
Fortunately for me, there was one particular lady in the group who just didn’t like me. She first expressed how she felt about me approximately 6 months after I joined the group. While I don’t recall the specifics, I do remember the sense of disintegrating into an emotional puddle as she pointed out my flaws. It was the same sense of groundlessness and terror I felt earlier that year when the woman I believed was my friend expressed how she perceived me. I sat speechless and overwhelmed as the other group members rose to my defense. I heard them tell the woman she was projecting negative feelings and judgments she had towards her sister onto me. I recall my therapist bringing me back into my body by pointing out how the group had done the work of protecting me when I couldn’t do it for myself. While I was grateful for the support, I was also aware that after six months in the group, I couldn’t tolerate this woman having a negative impression of me, accurate or not. The issue I had come to group to work on had now been exposed in the mirrors of the therapeutic space and my healing process was ready to begin.
I spent the next two years going back and forth between my children’s pre-school and group therapy, using my personal experiences in both venues to better understand how people perceive and relate to one another. It was an agonizing period of time, as I struggled to meet new parents and build a new social community for myself and my family while questioning my abilities to choose friends wisely, be a good friend and sustain healthy, reciprocal friendships. Thankfully, I was able to engage in this process with the support of my husband, Acklima’s intuitive help at home, and existing friends who knew and cared about me. I had also started practicing yoga with an instructor who brilliantly introduced me to Buddhist and other yogic teachings as strategies for coping with life’s challenges.
After two years of hard work, I had settled into some warm and reliable friendships in my community. I continued to question how I related to others and perhaps I always will. Feeling like a work in progress, I continued to process my struggles in group. One week, I ended up in a dialogue with the woman who had expressed her dislike for me early on. As we spoke about a subject I can’t recall, she looked at me and stated simply, “I just don’t care for you.” I paused, waiting for myself to leave my body and disintegrate into a puddle. I took one breath, then another. I didn’t feel myself leaving my body. I didn’t feel myself disintegrating. I felt myself feeling sad, feeling hurt and feeling sympathy for this bitter woman. From a hard-earned position of vulnerability and resilience, I responded to her: “I’m sad to hear that you still feel this way about me after all the time we’ve spent getting to know each other. I don’t feel the same way about you as you feel towards me. I like you and I wish you felt the same way about me.”
No one had to defend me, protect me or tell me that I had done well. My body told me in that moment that my work in the group was complete. I was ready to go home to my family. I was ready to participate in a social world in which people are complicated and which can sometimes feel harsh and challenging. I was ready to look in the mirror and know that the only person I can change is myself.
Twenty years after 9/11, we are currently experiencing the profound effects of three layers of significant challenges occurring simultaneously: (1) issues related to the pandemic globally, locally and personally; (2) issues related to political and social unrest and instability; and (3) personal or relational issues that that may have existed prior to the presidential term or pandemic or may have developed or worsened during these difficult times.
As I considered how to address the complexity of our times in a way that might be helpful, the story of my personal struggle from 20 years ago came to mind. It illustrates how layers of difficulty can chip away at our coping resources, putting us at risk for symptoms of depression, anxiety, social withdrawal, substance abuse, over-eating and other issues. I hope my story also demonstrates how we can use the difficult times we inevitably face in life to help us become more resilient. Yes, we have reason to be hopeful these days. And I also have no doubt that we need to expand our capacity for resilience now to help us through the pandemic, transition us politically and prepare us for whatever lies ahead in our personal journeys.
During these days of multi-layered uncertainty and challenge, I want to share with you some specific insights and perspectives I have learned from watching myself and others move through difficult times:
Resilience is developed through life experience
We all understand intellectually that difficult times have the potential to make us stronger. However, in our society, it is tempting to make things easier for ourselves and our children by avoiding life’s challenges. Unfortunately, when we avoid exposure to conflict, confrontation, disappointment, frustration, rejection, etc., we miss out on valuable opportunities to cultivate inner resources for tolerating and coping with difficult emotions that accompany adversity.
The old adage, “Short term pain leads to long term gain” applies here. If you courageously endure the hardship of today, you will be more resilient for the inevitable challenge of tomorrow.
Be patient with your process
I have often heard well-meaning people say things like, “I just need to let go ….” or “You just need to move on ….” If only the process of dealing with difficult situations, patterns or relationships was that easy. I like to joke that the “just” will take about five years of therapy. I have never seen myself or anyone else just let go of anything in an authentic, enduring way. Change does not happen overnight. It takes time and effort to work through painful emotional experiences, to understand and shift complicated relationships and to break habits that contribute to our suffering as individuals or interpersonally. Expecting yourself or another person to transform or feel better quickly will only lead to disappointment and frustration. Knowing that the process is gradual and approaching it with patience and compassion will help you endure a difficult time without making it harder than it already is.
Human beings are imperfect
I don’t know where the insane notions that we need to try to be perfect or always get things right came from, but I do know that these beliefs have caused enormous suffering. We are ever-changing beings who feel, think and sense our way through human experiences as means to learn, grow and evolve. Instead of judging ourselves and others for perceived failures, we are better off learning from our mistakes so that we are more prepared to cope when the next inevitable challenge in our life appears.
Help is available if you look for it
There are many options available for support when the demands in your life exceed your present ability to cope. The first step is to ask for help when you need it. While this can be an obstacle to some who believe that needing or asking for help is a sign of weakness or failure, please remember that this unfounded belief is keeping you from a valuable opportunity to become more resilient to life’s challenges, setting you up for even harder times. Please be kind to yourself, try not to judge yourself when you are struggling and accept support when it is offered. We are all in this together. You are not alone.