The Power of Resilience

Life has a funny way of testing how much strength we really have — often when we least expect it. Over the years, I’ve faced my share of challenges, but nothing quite prepared me for the call that came one quiet afternoon at the dentist’s office.

The Call

Three years ago, I was sitting in my dentist chair, waiting for my turn to be seen, when I saw my doctor’s number pop up on the phone screen. My heart dropped. I’d had a lumpectomy a week prior to remove what we believed was a non-cancerous lump in my breast and had been awaiting the official “all clear.”

The moment I saw that her number, though, I knew.  I picked up the phone.

“Hi, Dr. X.”

“Hi, Janae. Is now a good time?”

“Well, I’m at the dentist – but no better time than the present.”

“I can call back later.”

“No, just tell me the bad news. You only ever call directly if there’s bad news. Please just tell me so I can get on with my day.”

A pause.

“Well, the bad news is that the second lump we found was cancerous after all.”

“What does that mean for me?”

We spoke for less than five minutes. She walked me through my options – lumpectomy, single mastectomy, double mastectomy – and then we said goodbye. The worst news I’d ever received, delivered in a four-minute, thirty-second phone call.

The Hug

A few minutes later my dentist came into the room. I’ve known this amazing woman for nearly 20 years. She’s heard about all my life’s highs and lows – working with the police to put my father in prison, adopting my sisters, every boss I’ve ever had that I loved or struggled with, every relationship that worked or didn’t, and every silly tooth issue in between.

“Hi, Janae! It’s so good to see you! How’s life treating you?”

 I paused for a second, not sure exactly how to answer that question.

“Well… I should probably tell you that I have cancer.”

“What? When did that happen?”

“I just found out – about two minutes ago.”

And then I began to cry.

She gave me a huge hug and spent the next ten minutes just talking to me – sharing her own experiences with severe health issues and how she thought she might never work again, yet here she was: always strong, always steady, always smiling.

And my dentist, who I only see twice a year for appointments, reminded me that I’ve been through worse, and that this, too, was just another step in life’s journey.

At the end of those ten minutes, she cleaned my teeth, reminded me (again) to floss more often, and we made an appointment to see each other in six months.

Processing the Unprocessable

Later that day, I told my then-fiancé the news. I didn’t cry that time. He gave me a hug, we talked about options, made a plan, and moved forward – because that’s what I do.

A week later, I spoke with my therapist. I told her about the diagnosis, rattled off the surgical options, and then immediately switched gears to a stressful situation I’d been dealing with at work.

“Janae,” she interrupted gently. “Can we stop for a second?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Remember how we talked about how your past trauma sometimes makes you compartmentalize and push forward without really processing what’s happening?”

I did remember.

We’d had that conversation before – when I had my first cancer scare and lost an ovary. I didn’t shed a tear then either. My response?

“Okidoke. One ovary down, one remains. When’s the surgery?”

Even this second cancer scare followed the same pattern:

“Okay. Lumpectomy? Sounds like a plan. Let me check my calendar.”

And then she reminded me of something I so often forget: when you’re going through trauma, you have to let yourself process it. You have to let yourself grieve- the loss, the change, the fear – and it’s okay to be upset.

Whether it’s the end of a relationship, the loss of a loved one, a job, a health scare, or something that shakes your sense of safety, you have to allow yourself to feel it.

What I've learned About Resilience

Looking back now, I can smile at how far I’ve come. I’ve been through so much – and while I still shed a few tears when life throws another curveball, I’ve learned how to move forward with more grace and self-compassion.

Years of therapy have helped me process my CPTSD from long-term childhood trauma, recognize healthy versus unhealthy relationships (and celebrate being happily married now!), and better understand my anxiety and emotional responses.

If you’re going through a challenging time right now, here’s what I’ve learned — and what I hope might help you too:

1. Seek Connection — Don’t Go It Alone

• Lean into community. Healing often happens in the company of others — friends, family, therapists, or peers who’ve walked similar paths. Isolation feels safe, but connection is what restores us.

• Let people show up for you. Many of us in high-stress roles are used to being the strong ones. It’s okay to let someone else carry part of the load.

2. Feel What You Feel

• Stop trying to outthink pain. Allow yourself to grieve, be angry, or feel lost. Processing emotion is not a weakness, it’s progress.

• Avoid emotional numbing. Distraction has its place, but long-term healing requires acknowledgment, not avoidance.

3. Find Purpose in the Process

• Ask, “What is this teaching me?” Not in a toxic positivity way, but as a gentle invitation to find meaning in hardship.

• Turn hardships into service. Helping others through something you’ve experienced can transform pain into purpose – and often accelerates your own healing.  When I was going through my cancer journey, I created a YouTube channel to document the process – not for attention, but to help others facing similar uncertainty. Turning something devastating into something useful helped me heal too.  It helped me cope and look at each new challenge and negative update as an educational opportunity for my channel.

4. Prioritize Rest and Regulation

• Healing is physical, too. Sleep, nutrition, and movement are deeply tied to emotional resilience.

• Give yourself permission to pause. Productivity doesn’t equal worth. Sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is rest.

Admittedly, I’m still working on this one. I worked almost the entire duration of my cancer treatment, aside from a few weeks off after surgery. On chemo days, I’d work half a day, head to treatment, and sleep through the weekend.

If you’re facing a similar journey – take the time off. Be kind to yourself. Work will be there when you return. I wish I had given myself that grace.

5. Challenge the Inner Narrative

• Watch your self-talk. Speak to yourself the way you would to someone you love.

• Replace “Why me?” with “What now?” It shifts the focus from helplessness to action – one small, doable step at a time.

6. Trust That the Story Isn’t Over

• Resilience isn’t a trait; it’s a practice. Some days you’ll feel strong; others, not so much – and both count as progress.

• Allow room for joy. Healing doesn’t mean waiting until things are perfect before you laugh or dream again.

7. Celebrate the Small Wins

• Healing and rebuilding don’t happen all at once. Notice the tiny victories — getting out of bed, laughing with a friend, finishing treatment, taking a walk, asking for help.

• Resilience grows in those quiet, ordinary moments when you keep showing up for yourself.

A Full-Circle Moment

I didn’t see my dentist again for almost a year — chemo made dental work too risky — but she called a few times to check in. I promised I’d be back once my doctor said it was safe.

And eventually, it was.

On December 10, 2022, after my final radiation session, I declared it my “cancer-free day.”

One oncologist. One plastic surgeon. One biopsy. Six surgeries. Twenty chemo treatments. Twenty-five radiation sessions.

And one resilient woman who, admittedly, worked through it all – sometimes at the expense of herself, because she often forgets to prioritize herself over her work, her team, and her managers (and I was fortunate to have supportive, compassionate managers through it all).

But I have no regrets. Every crisis teaches us something. We grow from it. We adapt. We find purpose.

As an old boss once told me:

“Never let a good crisis go to waste.”

A Final Reflection

Resilience isn’t something you’re born with — it’s something you earn, one storm at a time. Resilience isn’t about never breaking — it’s about how you rebuild. Every heartbreak, every loss, every setback has shaped me into someone stronger, softer, and more self-aware. Someone who can stand taller, love deeper, and face the next challenge with grace.

Whatever mountain you’re facing, please know: you will make it through. The summit may not yet be in sight, but every step counts.

Hold on to hope. Your story isn’t over — it’s still being written.