Showing up—for your life, your work, your healing—can be deeply challenging.
Especially when you’re grieving. Especially when you’re moving through a painful life transition that no one else sees… because the pain lives quietly inside you.
No one may know what you’re carrying—but you know.
And still, you show up.
You show up when your heart is heavy.
When simply getting dressed feels like an effort.
When you answer emails with a lump in your throat, or take care of others while silently tending to your own wounds.
Some days, you may have told yourself you’d take five steps, and you only managed two. But those two steps? They matter. That’s still movement. That’s still progress. That’s still resilience.
Because resilience doesn’t always roar.
It isn’t always bold or visible.
Resilience is often quiet, almost invisible.
It looks like continuing, even when the future feels uncertain.
It looks like choosing presence, even when you feel disconnected.
It looks like not giving up on yourself—even when you’re exhausted.
Showing up doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine.
It doesn’t mean pushing through or silencing your pain.
It means choosing to honor your truth.
It means whispering to yourself, “I’m here. I’m doing the best I can today.”
Sometimes, showing up means:
Saying “no” when your body or soul needs rest
Reaching out to a trusted friend, even when words feel hard to find
Taking a deep breath before entering a room where you feel unseen
Crying in the car and still showing up for someone who depends on you
Sitting with your pain instead of running from it
And sometimes, showing up means pausing.
It means choosing stillness.
It means saying, “I can’t today… and that’s okay too.”
This too is part of healing.
This too is strength.
So if you’re in the middle of something hard—grief, loss, transition, heartbreak—know this:
Every time you choose to show up, in whatever way you can, you are practicing deep self-love.
You are honoring your humanity.
You are rebuilding, gently… from the inside out.
And that matters. More than you know.
Ligia M. Houben
