Sitting in the counselor’s office after months of brutal treatment, I felt exasperated by the loss of strength, energy, clarity, sanity. As soon as I finished one treatment, I entered another. Chemotherapy. Radiation. More and more surgeries.
The counselor slapped me across the face with the following words:
Resilience is finite.
The statement caught me off guard. I’ve always thought of resilience as endless. The spring always bounces back. The well always renews.
The counselor revealed that overused metal springs can wear right through. Some wells run dry. The bounce never returns. The place remains barren.
Thirty years of counseling experience, and he’d seen this again and again.
People burning through their resilience. Empty. Lifeless. Former shadows of themselves.
Sometimes the sparkle never returns to the iris.
I didn’t want to be among them. Continue Reading...