“Be strong. This is life. You’ll have to learn to fight.” “You can’t be so sensitive.” If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of statements like these, you know how hollow they can feel. I’ve heard them many times myself. Most days, I can brush them off. But there are moments in life when reality lands so heavily that no amount of mental preparation softens the blow. It’s one thing to anticipate something difficult and to have an inkling that a certain outcome might not go your way. It’s another when it actually happens, when it’s confirmed, spoken out loud, or placed right in front of you. That’s when it feels all too real. In this week’s blog, I want to say something simple but important: falling apart in those moments is not a sign of weakness. You’re allowed to lose your footing. You’re allowed to feel lost, shocked, or even hopeless for a while. Sometimes, you need that space before you can begin to make sense of what’s next.
One of the most jarring experiences of my life was undergoing fertility treatments. The first round failed. Then the second. The third felt the hardest and most invasive. I waited anxiously, hoping not to get my period. I stocked up on pregnancy tests. I followed every recommendation, took the supplements, and did everything I was told would improve my chances. Then, as the treatment progressed, I was told there were no healthy eggs to extract. The few that had matured wouldn’t have made it. That was it. I was devastated.
I remember sitting by the pool at home with a bottle of wine, crying, listening to music, and feeling everything at once: sadness, confusion, relief, and guilt. I didn’t understand why the procedure hadn’t worked. I was heartbroken that it hadn’t. At the same time, I felt relieved because I had begun questioning my relationship and whether bringing a child into it would be for the right reasons. Then came the guilt for even having that thought.
Knowing something might not work doesn’t make it hurt any less when it doesn’t. You still break. You still grieve. You still try to hold it together, sometimes in ways that aren’t ideal. And that’s okay.
Looking back now, I can say this with clarity: it’s one of the best things that happened to me. A part of me then, and all of me now, is not interested in having a child. At the time, I couldn’t see that. I forgive the version of me who believed it would solve everything. She did the best she could with what she knew.
That experience was many years ago. More recently, I noticed something changing with my senior dog, Coco, my soulmate. He was struggling to find his water bowl. Walks became frightening for him. I knew he was losing his eyesight, but the decline felt sudden and drastic.
I took him to the vet, partly hoping I was wrong. After examining him, the vet gently confirmed what I already knew: Coco has only 10–20% vision left. There was no reversing it. Hearing it out loud made it final.
Coco came into my life when he was two years old. I’ve known his mischievous side where he chewed wires, tore books, and jumped up and off the furniture. I’ve known his affectionate side where he’d climb onto the bed or couch just to be close to me. Now, he is fearful, confused, and trying to adjust to a world he can’t fully see.
The confirmation from his vet broke me. My first thought was that I was losing my baby. His blindness had already taken a toll on me, because it required both of us to adapt, individually and together. Lately, our walks have been slower. I talk to him constantly, so he knows I’m there. I am learning to be more patient and accept what’s inevitable.
As much as I didn’t want the truth confirmed, I needed to hear it. Regardless, we’ve surprised each other since that visit. We’re adapting more seamlessly. I’ve adjusted his walking routes. I’m also learning how to guide him without overwhelming him. I am discovering new ways to love, care for, and connect with him. It’s different now, but it’s still love.
I share this with you, because I want you to know that no matter how painful bad news feels in the moment, we have an incredible ability to adapt. We know how to push through and adjust even if we think we don’t. Our resilience is beyond measure, so don’t underestimate or doubt yourself for too long. You are far more capable and persevering than you know or believe.
Some unreal moments also bring forth immeasurable joy, but too much of that emotion can also feel destabilizing.
After two years of Covid, I finally saw my parents again. During that time apart, I had been through immense professional and personal challenges. Additionally, both my parents fell severely ill with Covid, one after the other, and I was miles away. I genuinely believed I might have to make an emergency trip for their last rites.
Thankfully, they survived; however, I aged by several years during that month.
When they finally arrived in August, I went to the airport to pick them up. Seeing them come down the escalator felt surreal. I almost lost my balance. I hugged them like my life depended on it.
That night, I barely slept. Every time I opened my eyes, I wondered if I had imagined their arrival. I was afraid that if I closed my eyes again, they’d disappear, and I wouldn’t know when I’d see them next. Through all that uncertainty and fear, I’d finally reunited with them.
It is in these moments that we realize what truly matters to us and what we will do to hold on to it. In the following months, life changed dramatically for me. They were supposed to stay for 2 months and ended up staying for 6 months, and those extra months significantly reshaped my life. The gratitude and sense of safety I experienced in their presence realigned me, grounded me, and taught me that joy and pain are both integral parts of being alive.
Maybe you’ve achieved an unbelievable milestone in life. Maybe you’ve found the love of your life. Maybe you’ve finally caught that lucky break. Maybe you’ve survived an impossible situation. No matter what or who is bringing you deep happiness, I hope in those moments you lean into forgiveness, compassion, and gratitude for enduring the journey to arrive at your destination. Without that journey, your destination wouldn’t feel the same.
Facing reality, even when you expect it, can be unsettling, but it can also be relevant and inspiring. It can teach you how much you can endure, adapt to, and grow from. It may knock you down temporarily, but that pause often becomes the space where resilience forms. You might doubt yourself at first. You might feel overwhelmed. But those feelings aren’t permanent.
Please know that you are far more magical than you give yourself credit for. Sometimes, life feels all too real. And when it does, you don’t need to be strong right away. You just need to be honest. Strength follows in its own time.
As always, I am here to support you all the way. I hope you keep in touch with your stories, thoughts, and feedback. If you wish to learn more, please stop by www.imperfectbodies.com. Lastly, if you enjoyed this information, then please share it with others.
My 5-minute guide for when you’re feeling overwhelmed, stuck, or lost. Reset your energy and reconnect with yourself. Bonus audio guide included. Available here: Energy Guide
All the best,
Chaitni