I’ve been knocked down more times than I can count. Life has thrown me curveballs that hit like cannonballs—failure, mistakes, humiliation, heartbreak, and setbacks that would make most people throw in the towel. And yet, here I am. Not just standing but thriving, rebuilding, and staking my claim on the life I deserve.
Resilience is my superpower.
It’s not because I haven’t felt the sting of shame or the weight of humiliation. I’ve been there. I’ve made the mistakes, taken the losses, and sat in moments so dark it felt like I was crawling—no, dragging myself—by sheer will, centimeter by centimeter, to the other side. But here’s the thing: the difference between me and most people is that I don’t stay down.
I refuse to let shame and humiliation drown me. The enemy might whisper lies in my ear, saying I’m not good enough, that I should just give up, but I shut those voices down because I know who I am. I know whose I am.
He that is in me is greater than he that is in the world.
That’s not just a nice phrase I repeat to make myself feel better. It’s the core of who I am. My faith fuels my fight. It reminds me that I wasn’t built to crumble under pressure. I was built to rise.
Resilience isn’t pretty. It doesn’t come with a soundtrack of inspirational music or a slow-motion montage of triumph. Sometimes, resilience is ugly. It’s messy. It’s crying at 2 a.m., questioning everything, and still finding the strength to get out of bed and face another day. It’s knowing that no one—not a single soul—cares as much about your survival as you do.
But it’s also the difference between those who fold and those who fight.
I’m a fighter. Always have been. Always will be.
Let’s be real: this world doesn’t hand out participation trophies for resilience. It’s survival of the fittest. And I am the fittest. Not because I haven’t been wounded—I have. Not because I haven’t failed—I have, spectacularly. But because every failure, every wound, every insult, every time life has tried to take me out has made me stronger.
My resilience isn’t just something I’ve developed; it’s woven into my DNA. I’ve survived circumstances that would have crushed others. I’ve thrived in spite of racism, sexism, and the kind of systemic obstacles designed to keep women like me in their place. But I refused to stay in anyone’s box.
The truth is, no one’s coming to save you. No one’s going to make you whole. That’s your job. You have to get up, dust yourself off, and fight for your life like no one else will—because they won’t.
The world doesn’t care if you’re drowning. At best, you’ll get a sandwich. At worst, people will watch you struggle and call it entertainment. So, you have to decide: are you going to be the victim of your story or the hero?
Me? I’m the hero. I’ve been my own hero my whole life, and I’m darn proud of it.
These days, my circle is smaller, my wins quieter. I’ve learned not to share everything because not everyone clapping for you is on your side. Some people are waiting for your downfall.
So, I move with grace, authority, and intention. I claim my health, my peace, and my throne. And while I may not shout my victories from the rooftops, make no mistake: I’m winning.
I am a woman of incredible resilience, and no matter how many times life knocks me down, I will always, always get back up.
Because the one who lives in me is greater than the one who lives in the world.
Mindful Shift Health Solutions LLC 