How Do You Stay Resilient in Hard Times?

Resilience, for me, comes from a toolbox I’ve built over time. Through years of learning to manage anxiety and a perpetual state of hypervigilance, I’ve accumulated a collection of calm I reach into when the overwhelming feeling of impending doom takes over. Music offers distraction from thoughts of everything that could go wrong. A stroll around the neighborhood with my dog, for when I need a quicker quiet moment. Hugs from my children, when I need a reminder that life is actually good. Immersion in nature—a hike, a barefoot walk along the Sound’s shoreline—for when I’m really spiraling and need a full recalibration. As Gen Z would say, “touching grass,” as if they coined the concept of grounding. But what happens when that entire reality is under threat?

I try to live in my own protected bubble, within a perimeter I can control, one that holds no space for chaos. I surround myself with people I love, whose behaviors are predictable—expected. Some days it’s harder to block out the noise from outside. Recently, reports of governments worldwide urging citizens to stockpile food, water, and essentials penetrated my bubble, activating a siren inside of me. Some say the reports are fear mongering; others state, “It’s coming.”

What is—it? No one knows.

Each generation seemingly has its own perspective on the necessity of preparedness. The podcast audience claims to have it all figured out. “Prepare for everything,” they say.

The mainstream media audience, who still trust in their government, insist, “Everything is fine!” And if you try to tell them it may not be, they respond with “You’re crazy!” and “Conspiracy theories!”

Then there are those who sit right in the middle, like me, acquiring information from multiple sources, trying to make sense of it all, and perhaps preparing just enough.

It raises the question: how prepared should we be?

How can you remain resilient?

Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram would have you believe we are days away from total blackout—complete grid collapse, nuclear war, a catastrophic event. Meanwhile, mainstream media sticks to its routine script, broadcasting a continuous loop of political theater—most of it isn’t even news anymore. Combined, they leave ordinary people—the ones working the everyday nine-to-five, doing their best to support their families—confused and unsettled.

Many have stopped paying attention altogether, living in their own bubbles like me. We’ve been programmed to be desensitized to disaster, yet at the same time, we are constantly bombarded with terrifying messaging.

“You can’t live your life in fear,” I was told.

I agree. Life moves on, despite the apparently unstable atmosphere. You go to work, move through your routine, make your weekly trip to Target, take your family out to dinner on a Saturday night. You can’t barricade yourself inside your home, waiting for the sky to fall.

But I also think it’s worth listening to the message “be prepared.” My brain has been trained to imagine the worst-case scenario and be ready for it. As a survivor of domestic violence, I’ve learned that resilience isn’t only about enduring the unimaginable. It also means adapting to the fear that remains after the danger has passed. For a decade, I raised my daughters alone, conditioned to carry the weight of rising to meet every circumstance. For me, resilience now means creating enough safety in the present that I can stop worrying about what tomorrow might bring.

Some will say I’m crazy, or living in fear, because I am preparing. For months, I’ve tacked a range of canned goods onto my Sunday grocery delivery. I’ve slowly built an emergency pantry with food, water, medication, and essentials.

My partner shares a similar mindset. While I’ve focused on nourishment, he’s focused on security: long-range walkie-talkies, filter straws, a crank radio, and firearms. Years ago, if you had asked me how I felt about guns, my answer would have been, “I will never have a gun in my house.” A lot has changed since then. When my partner decided he wanted to get a gun license, I didn’t argue. When he purchased an arsenal of firearms and ammunition, I had no objection. And when he took me to the range and taught me how to use it all, I felt empowered. Weapons I once would have fought to keep out of our home now bring me comfort. They’re safely locked away, yet accessible enough that we can defend ourselves if danger finds its way inside. He has planned for protection. I have the rations.

We’re not hiding underground. We don’t believe every post we read on social media. We’re not up all night staring out the window, watching for UFOs. But we’re also not losing sleep, wondering—what if? We have a plan, just in case. As a mother, it’s my responsibility to be prepared.

It is my job to protect my children in any situation.

My emergency pantry is another addition to my toolbox of resilience. I will never regret planning for an emergency that doesn’t come. My biggest regret would be facing a crisis and realizing it’s already too late. For now, I’ll continue making time to touch grass.