Resilience Through Silence

2024 stirred up memories of another time when my voice went quiet: 2021. That year started with fire in my belly and big dreams on the horizon but slowly unraveled into a season I couldn’t put into words. I just needed to let it all ruminate.

This time, though, I’ve learned something: silence isn’t failure. It’s space. Space to process, to wrestle with what’s messy or hard. And this year was hard.

Finding Meaning in the Quiet

If I’m honest, I fought against that quiet for a while. I thought it meant I was falling behind or that I wasn’t doing enough. But silence isn’t good or bad—it just is. It’s space to feel, to grow, to untangle things that are too raw or too complex.

Looking back, I see that some of the biggest shifts in my life happened during those quiet chapters. Growth doesn’t always look like fireworks and grand gestures. Sometimes, it looks like sitting in the stillness, letting yourself just be, and trusting that something is happening—even if you can’t see it all yet.

Christmas Walk Down Memory Lane

Over Christmas—my favorite time to reflect—I gave my blog and website a little TLC. As I scrolled through years of posts, I noticed the gaps, especially in 2021.

At first, I wondered: Did I not write much in 2021 because I had nothing to say? Nope. Hardly. I had plenty to say—I just wasn’t ready to say it. That January, I’d joined one of CrossFit’s councils, fired up to represent people with chronic diseases and show the world that CrossFit is for every body. I was all in, ready to make change happen.

But what I walked into wasn’t what I expected.

When Assumptions Take Over

Two months in, a fellow council member told me I didn’t belong there—because I didn’t vote a certain way. The irony? My politics have always been private. I never shared those things on social media. But that didn’t matter.

Before I knew it, I was being labeled everything from a bigot to a “January 6th conspirator” by people who didn’t know me or care to ask.

It all started with a twenty-second video I posted on Facebook in November 2020. I was in D.C. for a book signing with a women’s Christian group. The city was packed, buzzing with energy, and I snapped a quick video of the crowds. It wasn’t political. It wasn’t anything, really—just a “Hey, Mom, look at this!” moment.

But somehow, that clip turned into something else entirely. People made up their own stories, their own assumptions, and ran with them.

The Problem with Surface-Level Stories

Social media isn’t built for nuance. It’s built for speed. A post, a picture, a twenty-second video—they can all be turned into something they’re not, especially by people looking for drama.

We’ve all seen it. You post a picture of your workout, and someone chimes in with unsolicited advice. Or you share a snapshot from an event, and someone comments, “Guess I didn’t make the cut?” It’s wild how a moment meant to connect can snowball into something completely different.

This experience taught me an important lesson: before jumping to conclusions, pause. Lead with curiosity. There’s always more to the story than what you see on the surface.

Lessons from the Silence

Looking back now, I understand why I didn’t write much in 2021. It wasn’t because I didn’t have stories to share—it was because I was in the thick of something I couldn’t yet put into words.

Here’s what I know now: those moments of silence? They’re where resilience is built. They’re where we learn to stay true to ourselves, even when the world around us feels chaotic. And they remind us what really matters—family, the people who know you for you, and the work that makes your heart light up.

2024 has already shown me that silence isn’t empty. It’s where the most profound growth happens. And for that, I’m thankful.

Grace and Curiosity: A Dynamic Duo

Let’s talk about grace and curiosity, because they’re pretty much my survival kit these days.

Maybe you’ve seen it before: a new member at your gym who seems hesitant during workouts. Maybe they’re struggling with certain movements, or they just don’t seem fully into it. It’s easy to assume, “Maybe they’re not motivated,” or, “Maybe this just isn’t their thing.”

What if, instead of making assumptions, you led with curiosity? What if you said something like, “Hey, how did that movement feel for you today?” That one small question—offered with empathy—could be the lifeline they need to feel seen, supported, and understood. Maybe they just need someone to remind them that struggling doesn’t mean failing.

Maybe it’s you this week. The meal plan? Out the window. The workouts? Didn’t happen. It’s so tempting to go straight to self-criticism: “Ugh, I’m failing. Why can’t I stick with it?” But what if you gave yourself a little grace instead? Something like, “Okay, this week didn’t go as planned, but I’m still here, and I’m still trying.” Then, get curious: “What made this week harder? Was I stressed? Tired? Overwhelmed?”

And what if you’re making progress, but it feels like it’s taking forever? Maybe you’re looking around at other people who seem to be miles ahead, and you’re stuck thinking, “Why is this so hard for me?” That’s where grace steps in to remind you: “This is my path, and my progress matters.” Then curiosity whispers: “Hey, what’s one thing I did this week that I can feel proud of?”

P.S.

Let’s be real: it’s easy to look around and think everyone else has it all figured out. The person posting their flawless workout videos, the friend who seems to crush every goal, the coworker who never seems stressed. And then there’s you, sitting there thinking, “Why is this so hard for me?”

Just remember what I said; there’s always more beneath the surface. That person who seems miles ahead? They might be battling struggles you don’t see. Progress—real progress—isn’t always flashy or Instagram-worthy. Sometimes, it’s just putting one foot in front of the other, even when it feels like you’re crawling.

Because the truth is, nobody has it all figured out. Not them. Not you.  Not me. And that’s okay.

Let’s Make Space

Grace says it’s okay to stumble. Curiosity helps you figure out how to keep going. Together, they’re a pretty powerful pair.

As we move through 2025, let’s make space. Space for the quiet. Space for grace when things don’t go as planned. Space for curiosity when life feels messy.

Silence doesn’t mean you’re failing. Stumbling doesn’t mean you’re stuck.

This year, I’ll be sharing some stories—the messy, the joyful, the silent—and I hope you’ll join me in making space for yours, too.

Ahh yes… and space to just allow yourself to stop and smell the roses.