Blog 9: Resilience – Is This Resilience?
Photo by @GettyImages
When people don’t have support around them, having resilience is far harder.
I left home at 16 and have talked in previous blogs about the influences, successes, and pitfalls I’ve experienced. But I always remember my dad saying:
“No matter what happens, Pete, there’ll always be a bed here for you.”
So, knowing I had that safety net, did it give me the resilience to kick on?
What if you’re isolated, with no safety net, no one having your back? How resilient would you be?
It’s too easy to judge: “Oh, another snowflake.” And yes, maybe some people quit too easily, but maybe, just maybe, there are massive influences you don’t see on the surface.
Do they feel alone?
When you’re getting no feedback, do you start to think you’re failing?
Do you start to overthink things, reading into silences that aren’t even there?
Is that resilience?
During my Physical Training course, one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, I was surrounded by incredibly talented peers. Confident, high-performing individuals who seemed to be raised with the mindset: I’m a winner.
After failing the strength table assessment a demanding task where I had to design and deliver a sport-specific training session to my peers, targeting core muscle groups and skills related to that sport, including warmups, circuits, vaulting, rope work, and group recreation, I felt like I was constantly borderline, not quite excelling in anything.
I remember one moment during early-morning cleaning station before our formal inspection. My Number 2 Instructor said:
“Maiden, you’re doing OK. Your enthusiasm is amazing. Just keep being you.”
That small comment gave me a lift I wasn’t expecting. It made me think, OK, let’s keep trying.
I got another red light (three red lights meant removal from the course), but I made it through, not by breezing it, but through sheer tenacity and help from the people around me.
Is that resilience?
Photo by @gettyimages
Another moment that stuck with me was Easter 1997.
I’d qualified ten months earlier, and my CPO PTI, Doug, was giving me what felt like an unrealistic workload. From my point of view, other newly qualified PTIs had it easy.
I was given what felt like an overwhelming amount of work compared to others at my level, with a tight ten-day deadline to deliver it all. Somehow, with support and a bit of luck, it all happened.
After the dust settled, Doug came up to me and asked:
“How do you feel now?”
I told him I felt like I was walking 10 feet high.
He said:
“No matter what a ship throws at you, remember, when you’re out there, it’ll only be you. You’re the one qualified. These experiences, they’re what’ll get you through.”
Is that resilience?
And then came July 2nd, 2020.
The day we got the news that Di, my amazing wife, had stage 3 breast cancer.
Right in the middle of the COVID pandemic.
Shit. How are we going to cope?
At that very moment, the CHEXS team were out working on school grounds, putting themselves on the line to support children who were still in school. Our Family Support team were meeting parents at PayPoint machines to top up gas and electricity, handing out food vouchers. We were running Wednesday foodbank deliveries at Holdbrook Primary.
And at home? We were homeschooling the kids, who kept going into two-week isolation cycles.
And now this.
The same disease that took Di’s mum when she was just 19.
That isn’t resilience. That’s knowing that if you don’t keep going, there will be massive consequences, not just for your own family, but for so many others who are relying on you.
I don’t tell this story looking for a pat on the back. I share it because this is what families up and down the country are facing every single day.
Photo by @gettyimages
To be that smile, at the beginning, in the middle, or at the end of someone’s hardest day.
To hold your hand when you feel like falling apart.
To listen to the things that keep you awake at night.
To be there for the child who just doesn’t feel like they fit in.
Who never gets more than 1 out of 10 on a spelling test.
Who can’t seem to grasp the maths that everyone else “just gets.”
Who’s asking themselves, Why can’t I make friends like they can over there?
The photo shared in this blog was taken two days after we got back from the hospital, when we were told Di had stage 3 breast cancer.
These two kids were resilient, but with everything going on, the pandemic, the uncertainty, it could have tipped them over the edge. It was pushing me to the cliff edge too.
Di and I have always shared the same value:
Give 100 percent, and everything else will follow.
Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. But that’s the rollercoaster of life.
We sat the kids down and talked openly about the challenges we were facing.
Yes, we were honest. We were vulnerable.
But they still needed to smile. Still needed to believe things would be OK.
Nobody was isolated, and that’s why our resilience held strong.
And we mustn’t forget the quiet resilience shown every single day in homes across the country.
When our service personnel go away to serve, it’s not just them making sacrifices. It’s the families left behind who carry a different kind of weight, holding everything together, managing the fear, the stress, and the absence, while the rest of the world carries on as normal.
Think of the little boy missing his dad on a Sunday, watching other families head to the park, wondering why he’s not there.
Think of the mum five months into a deployment, with her partner parenting alone and trying to stay strong for everyone else.
Or the dad working 12-hour night shifts in a warehouse, handing over to his partner who’s walking out the door to do a long day on a hospital ward.
They may not call it resilience. But that’s what it is.
Showing up. Staying present. Carrying on when nobody’s clapping.
Photo by @gettyimagespro
So when we talk about resilience, yes, it’s about digging deep.
But it’s also about the people, the moments, and the words that lift us just enough to keep going, so that people do not feel isolated.
Sometimes that help comes from a mentor.
Sometimes a teammate.
Sometimes a book or a film.
Sometimes from a stranger who doesn’t even realise the impact they’re having.
So, ask yourself:
- Who might need a quiet word right now?
- Who’s doubting themselves in silence?
- Who’s waiting for a little lift that could make all the difference?
- Who is feeling isolated?
Because when people feel supported, really supported, they don’t just survive.
