Redefining: Resilience

In the midst of two quiet but relentless battles, I picked myself up and kept moving forward. Even when I felt exhausted, I was determined to bring my son back to the safe, familiar world he had always known. No matter the odds, I believed he deserved stability, comfort, and a sense of home.

I made a plan. I would buy a small place in our hometown. It meant holding on a little longer at my job, pushing through exhaustion and uncertainty because we needed my income to qualify. For months, my life revolved around paperwork, inspections, phone calls, and endless conversations with mortgage brokers, lenders, and realtors. I did everything right. Or so I thought.

Then the bank said no.

Although I was considered a salaried employee, my employer technically paid me hourly, placing me in a different qualification category one that pushed me outside the bank’s requirements. Just like that, the door closed.

With only weeks before the school year began, I had to pivot quickly. Buying was no longer an option, so I rented instead. I found a lovely apartment in our old neighborhood, close enough that my son could return to his school district, the place where he felt safe and was familiar. All that was missing was enrollment. I told myself, We made it this far. Just one more step. At work, however, I was barely staying afloat. Nothing I did seemed good enough for one particular colleague. Still, I persisted. I lowered my head and focused on the quality of my work, determined to give no one a legitimate reason to question my value. If there was conflict, it would be clear that it wasn’t about my performance but about something deeper, something crooked. Eventually, the weight of it all caught up with me. I knew I needed a break, even if just for a moment. I reached out to an old girlfriend I hadn’t spoken to in years and asked if she’d like to catch up over a movie. We couldn’t agree on one, so we decided to grab dinner instead.

That’s when the unthinkable happened.

On the way home, I was in a horrific car accident, one that nearly took my life!

I woke up in the hospital, confused and in pain, surrounded by tubes and machines, unable to understand what had happened. Doctors told me I’d been rushed into emergency exploratory surgery because my injuries weren’t visible from the outside. Inside, everything told a different story. My lower intestine had ruptured. My bladder was punctured. My sternum was fractured and so was my right leg. I had sustained more injuries than I can remember.

Lying in that hospital bed, everything else faded into insignificance. The arguments at work. The material things I’d lost. The stress I’d been carrying for years. None of it mattered anymore.

What mattered was that I couldn’t care for my son. I couldn’t even care for myself.

I was dependent on strangers, nurses, doctors, aides, people who owed me nothing but gave me everything. I was truly helpless. And in that stillness, one thought kept repeating itself: It’s true what they say. It can always get worse.

Forced to stop, forced to sit still, I faced a choice. I could give up. Sink deeper into my depression. Let the weight of it all consume me. Or I could lean into my faith and trust that the Lord had something to teach me here.

Without hesitation, I leaned in.

I surrendered. I placed everything in His hands. I no longer wanted control. I no longer wanted to make decisions or force outcomes. I simply wanted to be grateful.

Grateful to be alive. Grateful for the Emergency responders that knew exactly what do to in that moment. Grateful for doctors who fought to save a stranger. Grateful for my mother, who never left my side and lovingly stepped in to care for my son. Grateful for an employer who held my position and welcomed me back with open arms.

I knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. Healing never is. But I also knew one thing with certainty I wasn’t going to fold.

I wanted to show my son, and myself, that no matter how heavy life becomes, no matter how deep the valley feels, things can get better if we refuse to give up.

I was still here. Still breathing. Still believing.

#SingleMoms #Motherhood #Resilience #MentalHealth #MentalStrenght #StrongFaith #GodsChild #SouthFlorida