Category: Resillience

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.

Moses Lookman Kargbo, Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

In life, we all hear about the importance of resilience, perseverance and strength. But it’s only when we’re thrust into the thick of hardship that we truly begin to understand what these words mean. Over the years, I’ve learned that, while hardship is often something to dread, it can also be a profound teacher. It shapes and molds us in ways we never imagined. Here, I want to share some of the most valuable lessons I’ve gleaned from my struggles, hoping they might offer comfort and guidance to anyone navigating their own rough patches.

Embracing Vulnerability

One of the most surprising lessons I’ve learned from hardship is the power of vulnerability. In a world that often sees vulnerability as weakness, it’s incredibly tough to let ourselves be seen in our moments of despair. However, I’ve found that embracing vulnerability is incredibly freeing. It allows us to connect deeply with others, to seek and give support and to start healing. When we admit our struggles, we free ourselves from the burden of pretending everything is okay. We also open the door for others to share their stories, fostering a sense of community and mutual understanding.

True Resilience

Resilience isn’t about never falling; it’s about getting back up, time and time again. It’s recognizing that falling is part of life, and each fall is a chance to learn, grow and become stronger. In my life, I’ve faced countless setbacks and disappointments. Each time, I’ve had to find the strength to rise again, often with help from loved ones and always with the understanding that resilience is a journey, not a destination.

Keeping Perspective

Hardship narrows our focus, making it hard to see beyond the immediate pain. But one of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned is the importance of perspective. When we step back and view our struggles in the larger context of our lives, we often find they’re not as insurmountable as they seem. This doesn’t mean dismissing our pain, but recognizing that hardship is just one part of our journey. By keeping perspective, we can navigate challenges with hope, knowing that better days are ahead.

Fostering Empathy

Hardship fosters empathy. When we experience pain and struggle, we become more attuned to the pain and struggle of others. This newfound empathy is powerful, allowing us to connect with others deeply and offer support and understanding. In my life, the empathy born of hardship has made me a more compassionate friend, understanding partner and patient parent. It has taught me to listen more deeply and extend kindness and understanding wherever possible.

The Strength of Community

One of the most crucial lessons I’ve learned from hardship is the strength of community. In our darkest moments, it’s often the support of family, friends and even strangers that help us through. Whether it’s a kind word, a listening ear or a simple act of kindness, the support of others can make all the difference. I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have a strong network of support, and their love and encouragement have been a lifeline. This has taught me the importance of nurturing our relationships, being there for others and building a community grounded in love and support.

The Importance of Self-Care

Hardship can take a significant toll on our well-being. One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is the value of self-care. In the midst of struggle, it’s easy to neglect our needs, to put everything and everyone else first. However, self-care is not a luxury; it’s a necessity. It’s about recognizing our worth and taking time to nurture our well-being. Whether through exercise, meditation, nature or simply taking a moment to breathe, self-care is essential for healing. It allows us to recharge, find our balance and approach challenges with renewed strength.

Practicing Gratitude

Even in hardship, there are always things to be grateful for. One of the most transformative lessons I’ve learned is the power of gratitude. By focusing on the positive aspects of our lives, we can shift our perspective and find peace and contentment, even in difficult times. Gratitude isn’t about ignoring our struggles, but recognizing the good that exists alongside the bad and finding joy in simple, everyday moments. In my life, practicing gratitude has helped me navigate challenges with hope and appreciate the beauty of life, even in struggle.

Letting Go

Hardship often involves loss—whether it is of a loved one, a job, a relationship or a dream. One of the toughest lessons I’ve learned is letting go. This doesn’t mean forgetting or dismissing our pain, but accepting what we can’t change and moving forward. Letting go is a process, often painful and difficult, but necessary for healing. It allows us to release our grip on the past, open ourselves to new possibilities and embrace the present with an open heart and mind.

Embracing Growth

Finally, hardship offers an unparalleled opportunity for growth. It’s in our moments of greatest struggle that we often find our greatest strength, deepest insights and most profound transformations. While hardship is never easy, it’s a powerful teacher, offering lessons that shape and define us in ways we never imagined. In my life, the challenges I’ve faced have made me stronger, more resilient and more compassionate. They’ve taught me to appreciate life’s beauty, find joy in simple moments and approach each day with hope and optimism. We can all emerge from hardship stronger, wiser and more compassionate, ready to face whatever life throws our way.

—

Leave your thoughts for Moses in the comments below. You can also follow us on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and YouTube to stay up-to-date with Low Entropy news!