As we shift in to fall, I’m reminded that emotional endurance, like nature’s resilience, builds quietly, season after season.
Last night I slept poorly—the kind of restless night that leaves you groggy and unsteady in the morning. But as I sat with my journal today, I noticed something surprising: I felt good. Not because I was rested, but because I felt the challenge. Could I make it a productive day anyway?
When my husband was alive, I felt this often because I rarely slept well—and many mornings I met the day with dread instead. Small, daily challenges can (and did) breed resentment and anger—and then, yes, the guilt and shame that pile on top. I’ve known those in triple doses. On those mornings, I didn’t “rise and shine.” I “sat and negotiated”—me, coffee, and a treaty that mostly favored the pillow.
With hindsight—and fully owning how hard it is—I can see that practicing discomforts like fatigue, impatience, and frustration quietly strengthened my emotional endurance. I wish I’d recognized that sooner. I’m sharing it here, so you don’t have to wait for hindsight.
Why Small Challenges Matter
It’s tempting to brush off these moments as trivial. But emotional endurance rarely arrives in dramatic scenes. It grows from countless small repetitions:
- Resetting the day after poor sleep.
- Taking a short walk instead of giving in to inertia. (Confession: I often prefer a slugfest and then berate myself later for not getting off my tush.)
- Facing an awkward conversation rather than avoiding it.
Like daily movement conditions the heart and lungs, these small reps condition us for what lies ahead—caregiving demands, our changing health, and the inevitable shifting roles,
Endurance is built long before the crisis comes. Meeting small struggles—missing an appointment, waiting for a callback, feeling anxious about the unknown—teaches us that we can self-soothe, adjust, and respond. That builds self-trust, a core strand of emotional endurance.
Counterpoint: not every moment is a “push through” moment. Sometimes the wiser move is to pause, rest, ask for help, or even go back to your pillow and cry. Endurance isn’t stubbornness; it’s wise persistence. It’s the quiet art of keeping on, keeping on.
Emotional Endurance in Daily Life
Today, on less sleep than I’d like, I’m grateful. The challenge itself is a gift—when I’m willing to see it differently. Even the smallest challenges prepare me for the larger ones. And I’m motivated to keep building trust in myself.
Reflection Prompts
- In this moment, what’s the smallest challenge I’m willing to meet?
- Write a letter to the part of you that trusts itself—and the part that doesn’t.
- Where is the line today between wise persistence and wise rest?
Journaling Circle Invitation
In October’s Journaling Journeys Circle, we’ll explore Small Challenges, Big Strength—how tiny, repeatable choices build emotional endurance over time. You’ll have time to write, experience a brief guided journaling journey, and share if you wish. You’re welcome exactly as you are—sleepy, energized, or somewhere in between.