I don’t remember very much about my own early childhood experience. Pieces of it come through in flashes and spurts. I vaguely recall making rivers in the yard with the hose, stones placed carefully on either side, guiding the water where we wanted it to go, all the way down to the field.
I remember writing fictional stories in my fuzzy pink diary, complete with numerous characters and a lot of dialogue, carefully guarded behind a silver lock whose key was hidden separately, of course.
But what always appears most vividly when I try to remember anything from those early years is the white hot memory of me standing on the front lawn, watching the police take my daddy away, and life as I knew it ending right then and there. I can feel it in my chest, even now.
My parents were getting divorced. Substances were involved, as was a long, arduous custody battle, my brother and me right in the middle. What I remember more than manufactured rivers and innocent storylines is me straining my nine-year-old brain to understand what an affidavit was, and why I was being coached to say the exact same thing over and over again.
“She’ll be okay,” the therapist (or cousin, or lawyer, or teacher) would say, “kids are resilient.”
“She’ll be okay,” the therapist (or cousin, or lawyer, or teacher) would say, “kids are resilient.”
I heard the grown-ups say it to each other many times over the years, and while as a child I didn’t know exactly what it meant, it had begun to feel to me like a way to excuse the bad behavior of the adults in the room.
Decades later, as a mother of two, I would hear the same refrain again and again as a comfort to anxious parents who were desperately trying to do everything right. This time, I was on the receiving end of the phrase. I was meant to be the beneficiary, but even still, I would bristle, as if the child in me felt betrayed by the woman and mother who wanted to accept the offering — a small grace and reassurance amidst the sometimes unbearable vulnerability of raising children.
It wasn’t until much later that I’d learn what resilience really means, and how it would put everything into alignment for 8-year-old me, 30 year-old me, and every version in between.
What is resilience?
After the term had become increasingly popular in our mainstream lexicon and with the rise of her popularity, in her book “Rising Strong” our patron saint Brené Brown explains, resilience involves “the ability to struggle well” — to confront difficult emotions, learn from failure, and continue moving forward with intention and self-compassion.
Psychologically, resilience is the ability to adapt well in the face of adversity, trauma, or significant stress. It’s not about avoiding hardship, but about navigating it with flexibility, courage, and emotional strength. One journal article even references resilience as “ordinary magic,” which I am particularly fond of.
But my favorite way to think about resilience is actually as it refers to material objects, which is the ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape, its elasticity, or the amount of energy an object can absorb and release without sustaining permanent damage
“My favorite way to think about resilience is actually as it refers to material objects, which is the ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape.”
Later, I would read a journal article actually arguing against society’s overuse of the word resilience and highlighting the importance of removing the source of pressure before one can be able to return to its original, true form.
This is essentially what made my understanding of resilience click in a way it never had before — resilience was not, in fact, the infinite ability to keep taking hits. It was one’s ability to endure pressure and then properly recover (whether an object or a person) without becoming hardened or fractured. It was about maintaining malleability.
How can we develop resilience?
According to the American Psychological Association, “Like building a muscle, increasing your resilience takes time and intentionality. Focusing on four core components — connection, wellness, healthy thinking, and meaning — can empower you to withstand and learn from difficult and traumatic experiences.”
In reading this, it occurs to me I’d misunderstood resilience all along.
Originally, I’d mistaken toughness for resilience, and thought resilience meant being able to withstand whatever came along, for however long. When I would experience hardship in childhood and adolescence, I would endure it, but I realize now I wasn’t returning to shape.
“When I would experience hardship in childhood and adolescence, I would endure it, but I realize now I wasn’t returning to shape.”
Instead of nurturing myself, I’d developed a harsh inner voice. Perfectionism quickly proved unforgiving and gave way to a raging anxiety disorder by the time I was in high school. I remember hearing the word compartmentalization for the first time and thinking about it for days. It resonated so much — I was proud of my ability to firmly separate parts of myself from each other.
With every blow I wasn’t becoming more malleable, but instead more rigid, guarded, and compartmentalized. While necessary and valuable tools during adverse formative experiences, the practices I’d developed to protect myself began to wear on me long after the threat was gone. Instead, I was becoming brittle, splintering at increasingly smaller challenges.
I understand now that the support required for healthy and robust resilience — from the outside and the inside — was, in some ways, not there. Understanding this has helped me fill in the gaps of those earlier experiences and illuminated how I can best nurture myself now.
Resiliency practice
While for some, college was a time of letting loose in newfound freedom and risky behavior, for me, it was a time of cocooning and healing. After burning the candle at both ends studying, volunteering, and overfunctioning during high school and my freshman year of college, during my sophomore year, I transferred to a new school and intentionally drew boundaries around my time. I made sure I was free of commitments other than school work and my wellbeing.
I spent quality time solo in my room, with my friends, and at the gym. I logged many early morning hours writing in my journal and many late nights laughing and getting into shenanigans with my girlfriends. I learned how to lift weights and nourish myself afterward, and I loved how strong it made me feel. I sought out whatever counselor was available and would listen to me, which helped validate past experiences and relieve the pressure of my inner critic. I genuinely enjoyed and took pride in my coursework, and graduated early with my BA.
“I know now that developing resilience lies not in increasing my capacity for pain but increasing my capacity for joy.”
As I walk further into adulthood, I’m leaning heavily on the self-care practices that began in my 20s and that I’ve continued to refine in my 30s. This looks like practicing softness with myself and noticing when my inner voice becomes critical. It looks like thoroughly nourishing my body, mind, soul, spirit, and relationships, and purposefully challenging myself in ways that feel measured, autonomous, and empowering, like when I’m strength training or making something. It also looks like not taking life so seriously and having fun whenever possible.
I know now that developing resilience lies not in increasing my capacity for pain but increasing my capacity for joy. Self-care is the scaffolding that holds us up when times are hard, and resilience is the ability to feel it all and nurture ourselves back to our truest, most regulated selves.
Kate Arceo is the Community Manager at The Good Trade. She has a Bachelor of Science from Evangel University and has over 5 years of experience reviewing sustainable home and lifestyle brands, as well as organic kids’ apparel and nontoxic cosmetics. When she’s not hosting dinner parties with her husband at their home in Southern California, you can find her sipping a latte at their local coffee house or shopping for strawberries with her kids at the farmers market. Say hi on Instagram!
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