I always liked the idea of a 5-10 year plan. The illusion that I could chart my course, set the parameters, and ratchet everything neatly into place. Plans inked in pen made me feel like I could breathe. Like I had the earth solidly beneath my feet. I’ve made such plans, more than a few times in my life.

But, then the bottom would fall out. 

The damn bottom. 

You know – that seven-story drop when you realize that solid is an illusion. It could be when the person you planned to grow old with has other plans, when the oxygen gets sucked out of the room as you hear the words, “you have cancer”, or when the entire world grinds to a halt due to a once-in-a-century (we hope) pandemic. 

So, what happens after the bottom falls out? After the claws of anxiety tighten around your lungs and you become so used to the constriction that you no longer have the urge to jump out of your skin? When it feels normal that your only interaction with the outside world consists of waiting in a 20-minute line to get your sanitized grocery basket, so you can do a 6-foot dance in the grocery store with other masked humans? What happens when you lift your head to the horizon and start to think about what comes next then look down at the scattered remains of your former life and wonder if or how you might put the pieces back together again? 

How do you start over? 

How do you move forward when nothing is certain? 

I recently came across this quote from writer and researcher, Jim Collins, in his new book Beyond Entrepreneurship 2.0. “If the first two decades of the twenty-first century have taught us anything, it’s that uncertainty is chronic; instability is permanent; disruption is common, and we can neither predict nor govern events. There is no ‘new normal’; there will only be a continuous series of “not normal’ episodes defying prediction and unforeseen by most of us until they happen.” 

His words resonate even as I rebel against them. 

Uncertainty is chronic. Instability is permanent. 

So, now what? How do we navigate this in-between roller coaster of vaccine rollouts, more contagious variants, and economic upheaval, alongside all of the “regular” highs and lows we face in our health, our relationships, our families, and our careers? How do we maintain the stamina to keep going? 

For me, it’s acknowledging that THIS IS HARD and it’s likely to continue to be hard. It’s ok to have feelings (maybe even a freight train of feelings) about our current reality. But, as each emotional storm passes, I try to find my way back to one of my touchstone questions: 

“What is possible for me now?”

Even in the midst of a setback, new possibilities exist. They might not be the ones we would have chosen, but here we are. The last 10 years have taught me that each time the bottom fell out, I would eventually be ready to reimagine my future and reinvent myself – in big or small ways. I have learned that life isn’t about perfection and stability. It’s about my willingness to get up and keep trying. 

In the words of Paulo Coelho, who wrote the book The Alchemist, “The secret of life is to fall seven times and to get up eight.” 

We are all so much braver and more resilient than we think. Here’s to knowing there are new possibilities and brighter days ahead. 

If you have been impacted by cancer and you want to connect with others who can relate to what you’ve been through while gaining the tools, support, and community to face whatever comes next, explore A Fresh Chapter’s programs today.