Category: Resillience

Eri Ikezawa (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

As social creatures, however introverted or extroverted we may be, we unequivocally need human interaction in order to survive. 

Whether it’s basic transactions through our professional environments or the deep personal conversations we have with our closest loved ones about our innermost dreams, this cardinal tenet of human life is woven into our daily lives. Among the many various ways we merge with the other members of society, I think one of the profound ways we connect with people is through sharing our most vulnerable moments.   

Due to the nature of revealing our underbellies, often evidenced by the tremble in our voices as we expose our Achilles’ heels, there needs to be a fundamental level of trust interlinking people to facilitate that sort of interaction. With that in mind, from my own personal experience, I feel deeply humbled and honored when people choose me as someone to seek comfort from. 

In those moments, I acknowledge the importance of their faith in me to be able to provide a nurturing environment, and so I try my best to curate a safe space, a place where they can speak, free of judgment. 

This being said, without trying to sound insular or narrow-minded, I try to comfort others the way I’d like people to approach me during my times of emotional need. I think most important is to provide an objective, but empathetic ear, neutralizing the impulse to criticize people for making mistakes (or choices that perhaps do not personally appeal to me); oftentimes, I sense that people are looking for someone to hear them out—to offer sentiments of genuine consolations for the strife in their life without being too heavy-handed with unsolicited advice or opinions. 

If I am uncertain about how best to provide comfort one is seeking, I truly believe asking upfront how to try and cater to someone’s needs while they are down is the most optimal solution. 

“Did you want any advice or solutions?”

“Do you want me to just listen?” 

“What do you need from me to best help you?” 

But if I took a stab in the dark, led completely by instinct, I would try my best to convey compassion for their circumstances first, and then acknowledge that what they are feeling is valid and real. I might bring up anecdotes of my own to align myself in a situation similar to theirs before looping back around to their situation to ensure they don’t feel as though I am trying to undermine their own current experience (I stress that I think it’s important to articulate the importance of emphasizing that I brought up the story to relate to the other person—otherwise I worry it can occasionally land a bit awkwardly with my intentions being misconstrued as trying to bring the attention to myself). 

I also try my best to keep in mind that sometimes people aren’t always looking for brutal honesty or a reality check. I try to assess at what stage people are approaching me or confiding in me, and make a judgment call from there. 

For example, if I sense someone is at an emotional peak where uninvited candidness will only isolate the person further, I try to focus more on their immediate need, tending to the injury and ensuring it doesn’t become more inflamed. Other times, if I suspect that the person seems calm enough to handle a healthy dose of honesty and potential solutions in addition to any sympathy or support I offer, I will carefully attempt to dole out some advice, too. However, in this latter situation, I often ask for permission as I never intend to add salt into an already open wound. 

At the end of the day, I recognize that I can only meet people where they are ready to be met—if they have not introspected enough to recognize what I do or are unwilling to face their demons yet, as much as I’d like to force their hand (for their own benefit) I realize it is not possible, nor something I’d desire. 

No one can compulsorily have people behave in the ways they’d like them to; we must respect that each and every person is on their own individual voyage, boats decorated to their personal whims as the sails whip through oceans and winds of their own selection, until they reach their destination. 

We are all shaped by the lessons and mistakes we make, and even if we inherently know better than our loved ones do in that singular moment, we must trust that they will see what we see at some point (and also succumb to the reality that sometimes, people’s paths diverge when you no longer subscribe to the same values and goals as that person.) 

But this is simply the way that I, personally, am most comfortable offering solace. 

Here, I would like to interlude with the notion that, as long as we are trying our best to be there for the people whom we love, then that effort alone trumps all else. Some people may not be confident doling out advice or using their words, so they may demonstrate their support through actions instead. Or perhaps some people are more solution-oriented rather than emotion-based, so these friends or family may focus more on how they can guide you out of an unideal situation. 

I think that the only way that one’s comfort can be considered objectionable is if they are not invested in your healing or well-being whatsoever. Even at times where people are not giving me the exact brand of comfort I may be seeking, I still appreciate that they are bolstering me towards a future where I am not bogged down by my struggles. I realize that, as long as people are caring for me in the ways that they know how, I can always articulate what I need from them or prompt them for counsel—and in those moments, I feel truly connected. 

And human. 

—

My name is Eri Ikezawa and I have an extended minor in psychology and a major in linguistics. I’m still on the path to quelling questions about myself and the direction I want to head in, but in the meantime, I have always wanted to find a way to help others and contribute to a community dedicated to personal development and self-love.    

 

Nasly Roa Noriega (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

Is it really possible to adapt to any situation, no matter how frustrating it may seem? I believe it is. And is it possible to teach others how to handle their situations? I also believe it is possible, and I believe it because I have had the opportunity to meet people who have been coldly hit by unexpected situations, and today, though memories of pain drag footprints through their memories, their hearts reflect grateful lives.

I have worked in social projects supporting and motivating many families that were hit hard by violence, and a big part of my work was to meet them and help them in activities that would allow them to turn their lives around and allow them to leave behind those traces marked by pain; however, when listening to them I never imagined that they would be the ones to give me a lesson in resilience.

From that moment my life began to change. I was impressed by how life teaches us to face unexpected situations and move forward.

When I made my first contact with a group of about 50 people to coordinate the activities that we would do together, I remember that I saw many motivated and cheerful faces, willing to receive training and motivational talks, but I never imagined how marked their lives were and how their memories accompanied them at night. 

It was in the first home visits when I got to know in depth the unexpected situations they had to go through, tears rolled so many times down their cheeks, but they disappeared slightly within their silent but tender expressions and smiles of gratitude for having received another opportunity in their lives.

Death knocking on their doors and them having to go out in the middle of the night to escape from it were among the shocking stories of people who gave me lessons in resilience. Listening to them wrinkled my heart and made me think about the courage that a person must have to face so many consecutive situations and not weaken or faint. I admired how they found the strength to face uncertain destinies in unknown places, how they started from scratch, and how even today they still kept those tender and kind smiles. They still greet me with effusiveness as if I had changed their lives, when they were the ones who gave a life lesson to mine.

Is it possible to teach resilience? Of course it is possible. When I asked one of my students, a 60-year-old woman who had been deeply affected by the loss of her husband and her son, how she had kept her heart from hardening from so much suffering, she simply answered, “Remembering the best moments I lived with them, letting the pain accompany me, but not take over me, and most importantly thanking God every day for being alive to remember them, sharing with others who accompanied me a lot and feeling that I could help others to manage the feelings of sadness made me draw strength to help myself and others.”

Every night those words echoed in my head and I understood that it was possible to face unfortunate and sad situations, and that it seemed that, while facing inexplicable pain can break us down, having the strength to take that pain and manage it was the path to resilience.

With the life experiences that I faced daily in my work, my ability to adapt to situations was improving, and every day I was focused on nurturing that resilience in the new people who came into my life. I knew that those lessons were in every walk together, in every activity we did, in every step they climbed. I learned with them that, to face a situation, you cannot do it alone, because loneliness encloses you and consumes you and does not let you see a clearer picture.

We have all faced different situations at some time in our lives, and just as they come into our lives, they either get dragged to the corners of our memories or become pieces of our heart.  

Being in contact with real experiences taught me to understand the importance of resilience, and that it is possible not only to teach others to face the pain but also to learn from others how life can change us in the blink of an eye, and that starting from scratch is not failure but a new opportunity in this fleeting life.

I thank so many people who have marked my life with their life experiences and I thank all of them for helping me understand what resilience means. Thank you.

—

Hello, my name is Nasly Roa Noriega, I am a writer by birth and inspiration always comes to me at any time and / or place, for that reason I always carry my writing notebook everywhere. As a child I was shy and introverted but when it came to reading my writings in front of many people my shyness began to disappear. Over time my love for writing has become my passion and I always pass it on to everyone who needs motivation.

 

Cassandra Di Lalla (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

Pain is something we have all felt, and something that we will have to face in the future, too. Pain will never leave us alone, at least not permanently. It lives in our mind, our heart, in our blood, and through our veins. But, so does happiness and other positive emotions. Instead of “Pain comes, and pain goes,” it should be “Pain comes, and pain hides,” because it never disappears forever, it’s a constant.

When you have a good day or you distract yourself with positivity, fun, and exhilaration—the pain is often left behind . . . still stored somewhere within you . . . but forgotten about in that moment.

There are many forms of pain and we have all felt them without a doubt, but not all pain is felt the same way for everyone. Some people have a high tolerance and others have a low tolerance. Some can handle psychological pain better than physical; meanwhile, others can handle physical pain much better than psychological.

The pain you feel when you break your ankle doesn’t typically last beyond the standard/normal healing timeframe. Heartbreak due to the loss of a loved one, especially a parent or sibling, on the other hand? That pain is devastating and it’s permanent . . . it is always there. You are reminded of them every single day, but you cannot hold their hand, kiss their forehead, hear their voice, see their smile, make them laugh, prepare their meals, go on adventures with them, etc. You just have memories. We long for their return . . . we long for them to no ends . . . and we wish it was all just a nightmare until we realize that it’s our new reality.

I didn’t get used to the pain because that would mean I’m comfortable with the fact that I’m suffering. I tolerate the pain and that’s only because I’m taking medication for the PTSD, the panic attacks and flashbacks, and a laundry list of other things. I tolerate it because I have weekly calls with my psychotherapist. I tolerate it because other people in my life need me more than I need to be focusing on my pain. The people I do still have in my life are just as important, but I’ve sadly succumbed to my grief. This is the kind of pain that you cannot dilute in water or cover up with a bandaid, nor use Tylenol or Advil. No amount of any medication on the planet will recover the strength and courage you once had when your loved one cheered you on and gave you every reason to believe in yourself. Now, you have every reason to believe otherwise since their dancing and singing are just echoes in the back of your mind. You just sort of sit there in silence although the volume of the noise you hear in your head is decibels beyond repair.

People always say, “It’ll get better,” and I hate that . . . with every fibre of my being. Because it hasn’t gotten any better, in fact, it’s gotten worse and it continues to get worse. As the days go by, I’m just hit with the reality that with every passing moment, I get further and further away from the last time I heard my father’s voice, heard his heart beating, held his hand, told him I loved him . . . all of these things that I will never be able to have or experience again, at least in the physical world. Spirits are untouchable, and unfortunately, it’s frowned upon when you talk out loud to your loved ones as if they were still here. It may be a coping mechanism for people, and it may bring comfort knowing that they’re trying to keep their spirits alive. I become incredibly emotional and defensive about this topic because nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody, is going to tell me that things will get better. There are others who have lost their father just like I have, but that doesn’t give them the right to compare losses because it’s not only wrong on so many levels, but everyone is different and so is their grieving process. Grief is complicated. It destroys you and everything good that you had going for you, because the amount of pain you feel is like the weight of the ocean pushing you down . . . and you not being able to swim amidst the waves.

So, no, I’m not “used to” the pain, I’m simply trying to survive under the Devil’s chokehold while bearing all the pain. Death is unfriendly and we’re all on its radar, whether we like it or not. Pain will forever burden you, because pain doesn’t listen to your cry for help or your request for a favour . . . pain is a feeling without any emotions running down its spine and that’s why it doesn’t feel any remorse.

—

Cassandra Di Lalla lives life purposefully. She enjoys reading, writing and mental health initiatives. She’s an animal lover for life and an innovative individual always finding new ways to create.

Cristina Crescenzo (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

Do you remember when you were a kid and you touched the stove when it was still too hot? Or when you were playing in the park, and you fell down and scraped your knee? Well, for many, those were the first times we experienced pain. Unfortunately, pain is one of the only constants in life, and as much as we resent it for hurting us, we also have to learn to accept it. Pain is something that will always be there, through every stage of life. Some of the blows can be dull, and there isn’t much damage, but some can hurt so much that they send you crashing down on the floor, so it’s a harsh reality to accept that pain is something that we genuinely need. 

It stops us from making the same mistakes repeatedly; it reminds us not to touch the stove and not to run too fast in the park. However, no matter how hard our natural instincts try, we sometimes fail to heed the warning, and so we make the same mistakes again, resulting in a wound that hurts twice as much. Another thing about pain that I should mention is that it seems easier to avoid physical discomfort than it is to avoid emotional suffering. Which is funny because don’t bodily afflictions come with higher stakes? At least, that’s what I thought. I suppose extreme emotions can end up hurting your body too, like how a bad breakup can make you lose your appetite and not want to get out of bed. Maybe it just doesn’t matter because, at the end of the day, all the pain we experience is valid and necessary.

Furthermore, it is also a tool used to humble us and bring us back to reality when we think we can control everything and manipulate people for our own gains. It’s because we are human and we are flawed that we can cause pain in other people. However, when we do hurt others, even if the feeling is not instantaneous, everything will balance out once more, and pain will return, but this time with its bitter partner called guilt. If we try to cause pain needlessly, it can transform a helpful and innate sensation that protects us from danger into a poison that never stops plaguing our minds. It can evolve into a persistent form of anxiety and depression. You may not have deliberately caused it to occur, but pain and other unpleasant emotions can build up over time and create these intangible afflictions. 

That’s why it’s essential to always be kind to others and ourselves, because while we may not be able to get rid of pain in its entirety, we can minimize its impact on our lives. It makes me think about the speech Rocky says to his son in the movie Rocky Balboa (2006): “Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place and I don’t care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!”

It is a sobering speech that all of us need to hear once in a while, because though we may not like it, pain is necessary, and life doesn’t cause it for no reason. It has a purpose to help us even if we can’t always see it, so we can’t just ignore it and hope it eventually skulks away. We must let it do its thing and turn us into stronger people with big hearts. I believe that if we use the pain for good, then that’s how we can all be winners in life. To end it off, I want to quote Rocky one more time and say, “Until you start believing in yourself, ya ain’t gonna have a life.”

—

I am just a 24-year-old finishing her English bachelor’s degree at Simon Fraser University who loves to read and write in order to help someone in some small way. I will also always advocate for mental health and disabled causes through the written word, and Low Entropy lets me do just that.

Lauren Long (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Blog Writer

“You quit right now, you quit every day the rest of your life.” I heard these words in Glory Road, where basketball coach Don Haskins, played by Josh Lucas, warns one of his players that if you quit once, you’ll quit rather than face obstacles for the rest of your life. Ultimately, these words are what got me through high school and other challenges.

But what about the times when quitting is the best option? 

Pre-pandemic, I worked as a server. When I first started, I looked forward to working because I genuinely liked my coworkers and, more often than not, I stayed after my shift to visit and have post-work drinks. Over time though, as my workplace saw a turnover in staff, this became less frequent. 

I went from enjoying my job to hating it and regularly came home in tears or just downright grouchy. My parents, seeing how miserable I was, encouraged me to seek employment elsewhere. 

I found another job at a glass shop, and for a few months I did both. I worked at the glass shop during the day and served in the evenings. Hindsight is 20/20, and while the financial gains of the other job were good, the impact it had on my mental health and psyche were less so. When I went home, I would still be going through everything I did at work that day. I was burnt out, stressed out and getting closer to telling my boss at the glass shop that I couldn’t do it anymore. 

However, they beat me to the punch when they called me in for a meeting. The manager of the business where I was working was a very nice person, and I could see in his face that he wasn’t looking forward to telling me that I was fired. It was me who ended up saying the words because I could tell that he didn’t want to.

Instead of feeling angry and hurt, I was relieved, and I told him not to feel bad because I had been getting to the point where I was going to give my notice. We parted on good terms and I went back to having one job.

While my energy levels returned to normal and I was no longer burned out, there was still the problem of not being happy at work. It didn’t matter if I was dealing with obnoxious customers or picking up the slack of coworkers, at the end of each night I went home feeling downhearted, stuck and lost on how to make it out of this job that I had grown to dread. The final straw came when I served my high school principal and I could read the judgment on his face when he asked what my younger sister was doing and compared it to me working as a server. 

I’ve never forgotten that moment and how much it hurt, but it also taught me a valuable life lesson: it is never okay to judge and shame someone on their job, because you don’t know their reasons for taking that job in the first place. It also refuelled my desire to find other employment, but fate had other plans. 

When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, that was my out. During the time I was laid off, I took a number of writing courses, and by the end of summer 2020, I had applied to and been interviewed for my first writing job. In the four years since, I have worked several writing jobs that have added time and experience to my resume while honing my writing skills. 

The pandemic was difficult for everyone, but I’m also grateful because it allowed me to pursue writing as a career. 

Even if the pandemic hadn’t happened, I still would have left my serving job. It was getting harder to go to work because I was done with people treating me like I was less than them. There were people who treated me and my coworkers like objects instead of human beings. 

While serving improved my social skills and increased my self-esteem, it took a toll on my mental and emotional health, and no job is worth that. 

I believe that if a job is sucking the life out of us, the best thing we can do is quit. 

—

Born and raised in Quesnel, BC, Lauren Long is a strong advocate for mental health and well-being, as well as being a major Swiftie and a role model for positive body image. She believes in the value of truth, and that truth matters. When she’s not writing, you can find her on the pole, on the training mats or curled up with a good book.

Mariana Reis (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer 

Resilience is the ability to bounce back from adversity, adapt and continue pursuing your goals, even when faced with challenging situations. In truth, I consider myself very resilient. Throughout my life, both in distant and recent times, I have encountered many situations that required me to “toughen up” and keep going. I’ve lost jobs, moved countries, had a child during the COVID-19 pandemic, lost my grandfather, lost a dog and, most painfully, lost my father. Yet, despite all this adversity, I have managed to keep moving forward. There were moments when I felt hopeless and insecure, but I never gave up. That, to me, is resilience. 

When I look back, I can see many situations that could have made me give up, but I continued to move forward despite many adversities. However, the thing I missed most during difficult times was support. I think I learned to do everything on my own and lost the ability to reach out for help, and that made everyone around me believe I had everything under control. But, ironically, it was in the moments when I appeared the bravest when I needed support the most. The hardest thing about resilience is that you appear to be brave and tough, and people become convinced that you don’t need help, creating an endless cycle where how people see you is different from reality, and the braver you appear, the lonelier you get. 

Thankfully, during my most vulnerable moments, when I swallowed any fear I had of reaching out and managed to find the support network I needed, it made all the difference. Reaching out for help wasn’t easy, but it brought the immense relief of knowing I wasn’t alone. When I spoke about my fears, they became smaller. I also realized that others were going through similar struggles, which made me feel less isolated. I connected with women’s circles and mother’s groups to help me through postpartum depression. When my father passed away, I reached out to friends who offered their love and kindness. These moments of support were transformative and gave me the strength to keep going. 

Opening up not only brought me comfort, but also deepened my sense of belonging. I became more attuned to the needs of others and felt a stronger sense of duty towards my community. I wanted to share the support I had received and pass it on to others. There is a fine line between resilience and support, and it lies in our ability to both seek and offer help. Sometimes, being strong and navigating difficulties alone isn’t the best course of action—it’s incredibly lonely. When we close ourselves off from the world, the world closes itself off to us, and our barriers become so thick that we struggle to reach out for help. This is when resilience can act more as a curse than a blessing, reminding us that we need to ask for help so that others know what we need. 

Moreover, because of how people perceive us, help may not always arrive when we need it most. If we constantly show ourselves as strong and self-sufficient, people may hesitate to offer help, unsure if their gesture will be welcomed. The truth is, we can’t do everything by ourselves. What we often lack is the courage to open up, seek help and let others see our vulnerabilities. Asking for help doesn’t make us less resilient; resilience isn’t about doing it alone—it’s about finding constructive ways to overcome adversity and move forward.

—

My name is Mariana and I am a holistic nutritionist. I love helping other immigrant mothers by cooking nutritious meals to support their postpartum recovery. As I walk the path of self-discovery and inner reconnection, my hope is to continue forging meaningful connections and seeking opportunities to support and uplift others.

Matthias Preston (he/him/his), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer.

For most of my life, I have felt haunted by unconscious patterns of abusive behavior from those around me. These patterns were passed down through generations, until they finally reached me. Such patterns do not have to be exclusive to our families, but can even be shared across our species. The human body carries deeply ingrained memories of how to survive, no matter how maladaptive those methods may be. For years, these methods served as my protection. As a result, I saw my body, my humanity, my own existence as the source of the problem.

The good news is that our body also carries the wisdom to heal. I find that proper healing is not a quick fix—in fact, I have been forced to move slower than I ever have while my surroundings demand that I produce tangible results as fast as possible. This body, once framed as a limited confinement to liberate myself from, became the very thing I needed to embrace.

Only once I started respecting the body’s own agency, and all its aspects of consciousness that we do not consciously control, was I able to begin embodying it. The body knows that we are meant to embrace living, and that only love and respect can fill our cups. It also understands that difficulty may occur, and it will fight to ensure that you see the day that your cup is full once more.

Patterns exist, dynamics exist; we recognize them, and though they start out as intangible, they produce consequences in reality. We create stories to “catch” them. They are alive with the potential to grow and change as much as we do, as living humans.

When I have endured abuse, I did not exclusively tell myself positive stories, or only seek out positive stories from others. Doing so would deny myself a story of authenticity and integrity. My abusers have their own stories: ones they’ve learned from others, and the ones they’ve written for themselves. 

I spent a long time getting frustrated over their stories, trying to re-write and edit areas that I thought could use some work. This never ended well for either one of us. I could not write their story for them.

My abusers would also impose their worldview upon my stories. They would edit and rework, but most of all, they would erase and ignore important information altogether. Even as this process occurred in real time, pointing it out would be denied and ignored.

I feared becoming like my abusers, and I worked to make the unconscious patterns conscious again. This required some acceptance of the ways I did resemble my abusers’ behavior, which broke down the fear. This paved the way for a whole new pattern, and a whole new story of my own to tell.

Being abused taught me that I already have everything I need. In truth, I don’t see the work of healing as “learning” anything, because I already know—it is more of a remembrance, a reminder, accompanied by the wave of relief washing over me once I recall where a critical piece of understanding was left at.

Even so, I am astonished at what I find as I continue to dig deeper. My compassion and patience reaches far beyond the limited expectations that were constructed for me. It is like essential medicine that we all carry and yet many are deprived of and disconnected from. Because of this significance, I handle my thoughts, words and actions with great care—not because someone demands it from me, but because I know and respect the power within myself.

Nourish this hidden wisdom—tend to your garden. Then you have the opportunity to remember yourself, over and over and over again.

—

Matthias is an artist and animator currently residing on Coast Salish lands. He enjoys writing spiritually driven blog posts and relocating spiders to the coziest parts of his house.