Lately, it has been hot, so I decided to do something that would make life a little easier. I cooked a bunch of different meals in the crock pot, put them into containers, and froze them. That way, when the weather is hot, I wouldn't have to do much cooking. Then a flyer came in from the local Mexican market. They had pineapples, plantains, mangoes, watermelon, cucumbers—fresh fruits and vegetables at really good prices. They also had beef shanks. So after the gym, I had my caretaker take me to the store. I already had plenty of food at home. I had meals in the freezer, food in the refrigerator, and everything I needed. I wasn't going to the store because I was running out of food. But when I got there, something happened. I felt happy. The store was colorful and full of fresh food. I could choose one of this, two of that, three of something else. I wasn't limited to whatever quantity happened to come in a package. I could actually look at what I wanted and decide what I wa...
Rebuilding Meaning From Wreckage
There comes a moment in some people’s lives when they stop negotiating with terror.
Not because life suddenly becomes safe. Not because the pain disappears. Not because the future finally comes with guarantees.
But because they finally realize they have already survived the thing they thought would destroy them.
That’s where I am.
For a long time, I lived in survival mode. After my stroke years ago, I learned what it meant to rebuild a life from the ground up. I fought my way back physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I learned how to think again, trust my body again, and believe there could still be a future for me.
And then life shattered me again.
Another catastrophic event. More uncertainty. More pain. More fear. More loss. More moments of lying awake wondering how much one human being is supposed to endure.
Lately, one fear has been louder than all the others: The fear of losing everything. The fear of losing housing. The fear of instability. The fear of not knowing what happens next.
And I realized something.
I have spent so much of my life asking: “How do I guarantee nothing bad will happen?”
But life does not give those guarantees.
At some point, I had to stop negotiating with fear constantly. I had to stop believing that uncertainty automatically meant annihilation.
Because the truth is… the bad thing already happened. I already survived the unimaginable. More than once.
And somehow, I’m still here.
Still thinking. Still dreaming. Still creating. Still trying. Still reaching for meaning.
That realization changed something in me.
I started asking a different question: “What message do I want to carry through all of this?”
Not: “Why me?” Not: “How do I make sure I never suffer again?”
But: “What kind of person do I choose to become through this?”
I don’t want my life to become a story only about pain. I don’t want fear to become my identity.
I want to live meaningfully.
I still want to travel. I still want to see the national parks. I still want to sit under giant trees, watch sunsets over mountains, and feel connected to something bigger than my suffering.
I want to go to healing retreats. I want to keep rebuilding my body, my mind, my spirit. I want to learn. I want to grow. I want to keep becoming.
And someday, I want to help other people who are lost in the middle of their own pain.
Not because I have everything figured out. Not because I’m perfectly healed. But because I know what it feels like to sit in the wreckage of your life wondering if there is a way forward.
And I know now that there is.
It may not look like the life you planned. It may not happen on the timeline you wanted. It may require rebuilding yourself piece by piece.
But there is still life after devastation. There is still meaning after loss. There is still beauty after grief.
I think resilience is often misunderstood. People imagine it as confidence, certainty, strength, motivation.
But real resilience is often messy. It looks like crying and continuing. Being terrified and continuing. Being exhausted and continuing. Not knowing how things will work out and continuing anyway.
Sometimes resilience is simply deciding that fear will not get the final say.
I’m learning that healing is not about becoming the person I used to be. It’s about becoming someone new without abandoning myself in the process.
And maybe that is the real message I want to carry:
That catastrophe does not have to end a person. That suffering does not erase the soul. That a human being can rebuild more than once.
And maybe the deepest freedom comes when we stop waiting for life to become perfectly safe before we allow ourselves to truly live again.
I don’t know exactly what my future looks like yet. But for the first time in a long time, I know this:
I want to live. Not just survive.
And I think that is where healing truly begins.
I’m still rebuilding my life one day at a time. If you feel called to support my journey financially while I heal, adapt, and continue creating meaningful work, I’ve included my GoFundMe below. Your support helps give me the stability to keep moving forward.
And if you can’t donate, sharing my story still means the world to me.
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