Resilience Runs in My Bloodline (and Maybe Yours Too)
I know resilience gets talked about a lot these days. It’s become one of those words we all nod along to, but I’m not sure many people actually know what it looks like in real life — especially when it’s quiet, unglamorous, and rooted in the everyday.
But I do. I’ve seen it up close, woven into the lives of the women who raised me.
I come from a long line of incredibly resilient women. Not the loud, dramatic kind. The quiet, get-it-done, no-fuss, “have a biscuit and get on with it” kind. The kind who’ve weathered real-life stuff — the kind that doesn’t come with a hashtag or a perfectly lit Instagram photo.
Redefining What Resilience Looks Like
It’s time we redefined what resilience actually is.
It’s not about being the strongest person in the room.
It’s not about pretending nothing gets to you.
It’s about feeling it all and still finding your way through.
It’s about emotional recovery. Grit. Grace. And knowing what brings you back to yourself when life throws you off track.
Ordinary Women, Extraordinary Strength
Take my nan. Lived to 93, played the piano like it was her second language, and baked when life felt too much. There was something sacred in how she’d get stuck into a Victoria sponge — by the time it was in the oven, the world felt just that bit more manageable.
If baking was her therapy, the piano was her reset button. And gardening? That was her quiet magic — coaxing joy back into the world with every bloom.
Then there was my great aunt. Lived to 94. Best friends with my nan since they were 11 (iconic). She filled her life with stories — wrote her own autobiography, painted watercolours, and made long-distance family phone calls feel like home. And yes, she pruned her roses like she was on a mission.
And then there’s my mum. Gone too soon at 54, but in that time? She showed more grace and stress resilience than most people do in double the time. Her weekly swims weren’t about fitness — they were about connection. The laughs, the nods, the well-timed “you’re not mad, love – I’d have done the same.”
She was obsessed with curly twigs and fushia’s and could name every one in the garden and somehow made daffodils look like a mood.
The Habits I Inherited (and the Patterns I Didn’t)
I’ve inherited a lot from them.
I know how to hoover through chaos.
I find calm in a cupboard clear-out or the smell of fresh compost.
But I also inherited a sharp eye for what doesn’t sit right.
I watched these strong, clever, brilliant women tolerate things that chipped away at them:
Friendships that spanned decades but quietly drained them.
Partners who didn’t understand them.
Bosses who underestimated them.
Social norms that told them to be “grateful” for crumbs.
And here’s the thing: I noticed.
All of it.
Some of that comes from my ADHD hyper-awareness (we don’t miss a trick). Some from a deep-rooted curiosity and an inconvenient instinct to question everything.
I was the kid asking, “But why are you still friends with her if she makes you feel awful?”
I haven’t stopped asking since.
Eventually, I made a decision: I wouldn’t repeat the pattern.
The Boundaries That Built My Version of Resilience
Yes, I’m resilient. But I don’t believe resilience should be used as a reason to stay somewhere you don’t belong.
I don’t wear suffering like a badge of honour.
I don’t tolerate anything that costs me my peace.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
I don’t stay in friendships that don’t feel good.
I don’t explain my boundaries three times to people who weren’t listening the first time.
I don’t say yes to things that feel wrong in my stomach.
That doesn’t make me unkind.
It makes me honest.
And in my world, honesty is a form of self-respect.
So What Is Resilience Really For?
If resilience isn’t for tolerating dead-end friendships, bad behaviour, or relationships that hollow you out… what is it for?
It’s for the things we can’t control:
When someone you love gets sick.
When a plan falls apart without warning.
When you have to steady yourself before figuring out your next move.
It’s for the days when getting out of bed feels like a win.
For the mornings when the kids need packed lunches and your brain feels like it’s buffering.
It’s for holding your nerve in a hard conversation.
And trusting that even if you don’t have the answers, you’ll figure it out.
Real Resilience Is a Choice — Not a Performance
Resilience isn’t about tolerating what breaks you.
It’s about holding yourself through what you didn’t choose — and choosing differently next time.
I carry my mum’s, my nan’s, and my great aunt’s strength with me every day. But I’m also rewriting the story.
They taught me how to cope.
I’m learning how to choose.
Ask Yourself:
What are you still carrying because it’s familiar, not because it’s good for you?
What would it feel like to let it go — not out of weakness, but because you finally realised… you don’t have to hold it anymore?
That’s the kind of resilience I believe in.
And it starts with choosing you.