I survived hell in 2022. COVID-19 had already locked us away for two years, forcing us to fear each other’s breath when death struck three times in rapid succession.

Cancer claimed my mother-in-law, Betty. The same disease forced us to put down our beloved Labrador Rottweiler mix, Oreo. Then, our 13-year-old son, Jude, died from a seizure in the night. As if grief hadn’t hollowed me out enough, 2022 delivered its final blow.

Operation Snap Dragon eliminated my department, leaving me unemployed. My spouse chose that exact moment to end our marriage—no reconciliation, no second chances, just finality. The crushing weight of loss had broken us both, and I understood why she couldn’t stay. I could barely face myself.

I discovered a fortune cookie’s proclamation on a spring day in 2023:

“You Are a Symbol of Resilience and Strength”

Those words felt like mockery—high school bullies disguised as wisdom. Resilience? I had become a hollowed-out shell, scraped clean like a deseeded honeydew melon. Strength? I struggled to drag myself from bed each morning to a new job that paid bills but killed my soul. The stranger in my bathroom mirror stared back with hollow eyes, wearing grief like a second skin.

Yet something prevented me from discarding those words. I smoothed the crumpled paper, studying each letter as if it contained a survival code.

The revelation struck me then. Resilience doesn’t mean bouncing back—it means carrying the weight of loss while still moving forward. Strength doesn’t require being unbreakable; it demands breaking into a million pieces and choosing to rebuild yourself, piece by piece, story by story.

I had started writing before this epiphany before the fortune cookie delivered its message. Now, I wrote about work not as something that defines us but as fuel that strengthens our resolve to stay true to ourselves. Each story erupted from me like water bursting through a dam. Words became my rebellion against the darkness trying to consume me.

Three years have passed since I found that fortune cookie. Today, I’m discovering my calling back to storytelling.

You are a symbol of resilience and strength.

I finally understand. The fortune didn’t lie—it prophesied. Not because I possessed inherent strength but because I chose to stand up and fight. Sometimes, honoring what you’ve lost transforms your pain into healing for others.

I keep that fortune as a reminder that even in our darkest moments, we carry the seeds of who we’re meant to become.

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Take Action: Share Your Story

Your story of resilience matters. Every setback you’ve overcome, every morning you’ve chosen to get up despite the weight of loss—these moments shape not just you but everyone who needs to hear that survival is possible.

I challenge you to:

• Write down one moment when you discovered strength you didn’t know you had
• Share a story of resilience with someone who needs hope today
• Find your own “fortune cookie moment”—that unexpected message that shifted your perspective

I want to hear from you:

• What does resilience mean in your life?
• How has loss transformed into strength in your journey?
• What fortune or message changed everything for you?

Share your thoughts, stories, and reflections in the comments below. Your words might be exactly what someone else needs to hear today. Together, we can build a community where our scars become sources of strength for others.

What’s your symbol of resilience? Tell me your story.