The other night, while reflecting on the chaos of the past year, my fiancé reminded me of Roosevelt’s famous words: “A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.” I laughed, misremembering the phrase, and said something like, “No, no—it’s rough seas that make stronger sailors.” We both paused, acknowledging the truth in those words. Then he pulled me close and said gently, “What really matters is how you handle yourself when the going gets tough.”
His words lingered with me long after. I’ve caught glimpses of him in his office during work calls, but I’ve never truly seen how he handles professional storms. So I asked him, “How do you respond when things get difficult at work?” He thought for a moment before answering simply: “I don’t know…I just figure it out.”
And in that moment, I realized—maybe that’s what we’re all doing right now. Freaking out a little. Figuring it out. Trying, failing, adjusting, and pushing through.
The Storm That Was 2020
When I first began writing these “Life As I Know It” entries, I imagined them as lighthearted notes from the editor—uplifting reflections to balance out the noise of the world. But the truth is, they’ve become more like journal entries, written from the intersection of love, pain, and inspiration.
And pain—mixed with resilience—has been a recurring theme this year.
If you haven’t been hit by the pandemic in some way—physically, emotionally, or professionally—consider yourself unbelievably lucky. For many of us, myself included, it’s been a tidal wave. Back in February, I naively thought, “This too shall pass by fall.” I assumed the storm would move on quickly, that I’d float through unscathed. Instead, reality smacked me in the face a few months later.
As my fiancé often reminds me over coffee, “No business—or life—moves in a straight line upward. There are dips, valleys, and setbacks. But the pendulum always swings back.”
Anchors, Ships, and Unexpected Treasures
Around the same time, a dear friend of mine went through something heartbreaking—something I understood all too well. I invited her over to our new home, hoping she could catch her breath. What was supposed to be a short visit turned into hours on the porch: talking, crying, laughing, and finding solace in our friendship.
At one point, she looked down and noticed two small tiles in the floor—an anchor and a sailing ship. “That’s random,” she said, smiling. “What do those mean?”
I shrugged. “No idea. The house is old—it came with quirks.” She teased, “Maybe it’s a hidden treasure!”
I laughed, but later that night I couldn’t stop thinking about those tiles. Perhaps they weren’t random at all. Maybe they were a reminder that in the middle of rough seas, we all need anchors—things, people, or memories that ground us.
Resilience in the Face of Struggle
This year has asked me to let go—of plans, routines, and sometimes even joy. Yet, every time I’ve reached the point of surrender, something deeper has surfaced: resilience.
I’ve seen it in myself and in others—like my friend on the porch, who chose to rise despite her heartbreak. I’ve seen it in my own story too, through ballet injuries, financial struggles, family challenges, and heartbreaks. Each storm was brutal. Each storm taught me grit. And each storm passed.
That’s the beauty of resilience—it isn’t about avoiding pain, but about learning to navigate it. Every storm builds character, sharpens instincts, and strengthens resolve.
Lessons from the Sailor
Perhaps that’s why Roosevelt’s quote resonates so deeply. It’s easy to picture yourself as a sailor steering through violent waters, clinging to the wheel while the storm rages. The experienced sailor knows the storm won’t last forever. The novice might falter, drift, or even sink. But every storm survived makes the sailor stronger.
Life is the same. You can either fight through, drop anchor and endure, or fall apart. And while drifting feels easier in the moment, it rarely gets you where you want to go.
As Viktor Frankl once said, “When we are no longer able to change the situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” We may not be able to calm the seas, but we can choose how to steer through them.
Shifting the Narrative
I won’t pretend that optimism alone can save us from a year like 2020. But perspective can. Instead of saying, “2020 was the worst year,” I’ve started reframing it: “2020 was a turning point. It challenged me, but I grew.”
Storms reveal strength we didn’t know we had. They strip away what’s unnecessary and remind us what matters most: love, health, family, friendship, and home.
A Porch, a Cup of Coffee, and Two Tiles
Most mornings now, my fiancé and I sit on our porch with steaming mugs of coffee, talking about life—sometimes deeply, sometimes playfully—while the world stirs around us. And every so often, I glance down at those two little tiles: an anchor and a ship.
Maybe it wasn’t random after all. Maybe it was a quiet reminder that storms will come, but we always have the tools to survive them.
The sea may be rough, but the sailor is stronger.