Let me tell you about my week… well, actually, my close to one month.

The kind of stretch where resilience isn’t a buzzword — it’s a lifeline. Not the curated kind with a quote over sunrise, but the messier kind, stitched together by sheer will, coffee, and whispered pep talks in the mirror.

There are times when you wake up full of plans — to run, to write, to record — only to find that life had made other plans. I have been clinging on, trying to ride wave after wave of what can only be described as spiritual and logistical chaos.

Take the Airbnb, for example. A guest messaged me at midnight — not about an emergency, not about a flood or a fire, but because they “couldn’t find the WiFi code.” The same WiFi code boldly pinned to the entrance wall — printed, framed, unmissable. A few hours later, a second message: his wife had taken ill, and they wanted to cancel…mid-booking.

As if that wasn’t enough, housekeeping spiralled into its own brand of drama. The kind that leaves you scrubbing down bathrooms yourself at odd hours. Because sometimes, when you run things solo, you’re not just the owner. You’re also the manager, tech assistant, customer service rep… and cleaner. Multitasking doesn’t get more glamorous.

Then came the podcast fiascos — a trilogy of disappointment, really. One recording lost due to a tech glitch. Another, a scheduling misunderstanding that wasn’t uncovered until the moment of.

The third? A planned session that couldn’t go ahead for reasons out of my hands.

I’ve tried to smile through it, to whisper affirmations like battle cries into the mirror.
Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fantasise about vanishing into a cold, dark room for a day or three.

Even my runs, normally sacred time, weren’t spared. One was broken up by three separate disruptions — phone calls that pulled me from rhythm, one of which involved an Airbnb misunderstanding so ridiculous that I had to pause my run, walk home, and play detective.
And yet. Here I am.

Still writing. Still running. Still recording.

That’s the thing about resilience — it doesn’t always roar. Sometimes, it barely whispers. Sometimes, it looks like replying politely when you want to scream. Sometimes, it’s putting on your trainers and stepping outside even when the day’s already run you ragged.

Sometimes, it’s pressing “record” again, trusting that the words will find their way.

Resilience isn’t the absence of cracks; it’s what you fill the cracks with. It’s the quiet decision to keep going, to try again, to believe — however shakily — that better is still ahead.

It’s understanding that affirmations aren’t promises of ease, but armours for the battles that come because you’re daring to believe.

This week, resilience looked like damage control, cleaning gloves, podcast recovery missions, and long runs that ended in short stories. It looked like tears at the edge of laughter and laughter at the edge of tears.
It looked like me.

I’ve talked about the podcasting chaos and the Airbnb mayhem — which, at best, account for only 80% of my life. The rest? Let’s just say these are the only examples I could safely cite on the world wide web. Go figure.

Resilience is more than survival — it’s your decision to show up again, even if the world handed you every reason not to.

And that decision?
That makes you #Unshakable.

‘See’ you next week.

Sally Chiwuzie
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IG Handle: @unshakable.is.a.state.of.mind