Staying Human When the World Feels Mean

There are mornings when I open my phone before my eyes are fully awake and

immediately regret it. The headlines feel like a shove. The comments feel worse. Everyone is certain. Everyone is angry. No one seems interested in listening. I set the phone down and stare at the ceiling, already tired, and the day hasn’t even asked anything of me yet. Staying Human When the World Feels Mean

Resilience is supposed to mean strength, but lately it feels more like endurance. Like keeping your footing on ground that won’t stop shifting. Like learning how to carry a life while the larger world feels increasingly uninterested in kindness.

I think about a winter a few years back when money was thin and everything felt fragile. I remember standing in a grocery store aisle doing mental math with a cart that held only essentials. No extras. No comfort food. Just what would last. A woman ahead of me argued with the cashier about a coupon. The line grew tense. People sighed loudly. I remember feeling embarrassed for her and scared for myself because I knew how close I was to being that person. How close I already was.

When it was my turn, my card declined. Just once. Then again. The heat in my face felt unbearable. The cashier looked tired, not cruel, and asked if I wanted to try again. I did. It worked. I walked out with my bags and sat in my car for a long time before turning the key.

That is what resilience looked like that day. Not triumph. Not inspiration. Just staying. Just getting through the moment without breaking into something I couldn’t put back together.

We don’t talk enough about how much resilience costs. How it drains the nervous system. How it asks us to keep showing up in systems that are indifferent at best. We tell people to be strong without acknowledging how isolating it feels to always be the one holding it together.

In a divisive world, it can start to feel safer to harden. To retreat. To decide everyone else is the problem. But hardening comes with a price. It cuts us off from the very thing that keeps us alive: connection.

Staying resilient right now means choosing not to become mean just because the world is. It means noticing when your body tightens and doing something small to soften. Putting your feet on the floor. Taking a slow breath. Saying no when you mean no. Saying yes only when you can afford it.

Some days resilience is rage. Some days it’s grief. Some days it’s the quiet refusal to let despair win. It’s telling the truth about how hard things are without turning that truth into hopelessness.

Compassion, in times like these, isn’t about being nice. It’s about being real. It’s about recognizing that most people are carrying invisible weight and deciding not to add to it. It’s about offering yourself the same grace you wish the world would give you.

I don’t believe resilience is something we either have or don’t. I think it’s something we practice. Again and again. In small, unremarkable moments that never make the highlight reel.

We stay resilient by staying human. By letting ourselves feel. By remembering what it was like to struggle and letting that memory shape how we move through the world.

And when the world feels cold and unforgiving, staying human might be the bravest thing we do.

If you want, I can make this even more raw, add a second vignette, or tailor it to your audience of women, healers, or those navigating trauma and nervous system overwhelm.

When the world feels like it’s vibrating at a pitch your nervous system did not consent to, grounding is not a luxury. It is maintenance. Like brushing your teeth. Like drinking water. Small things. Done often. Staying Human When the World Feels Mean

Here are five practices that are simple, actionable, and actually work, especially for women who are holding a lot.

1. Press Your Feet Into the Floor Like You Mean It Staying Human When the World Feels Mean

This is not metaphorical. Stand up.

Place both feet flat on the ground. Press down firmly for 10 to 20 seconds. Notice your calves engage. Notice your thighs. Push just enough to feel strength.

Then release.

Do it again.

This activates the large muscles in your legs and gives your nervous system a clear message: I am here. I have support. I am not floating away.

If you’re sitting, press your feet into the floor or the base of your shoes. If you’re lying down, press your heels into the mattress.

Grounding is often literal. Gravity is your ally.

2. Lengthen Your Exhale

When we are stressed, our inhale gets sharp and quick. The exhale shortens. The body stays in readiness.

Shift the ratio.

Inhale for 4.Exhale for 6.

If that feels easy, try 4 in and 8 out.

Do this for one to three minutes. No performance. No perfection. Just lengthen the out-breath.

The long exhale stimulates the vagus nerve and signals safety. It is one of the fastest ways to downshift from survival mode.

You do not have to calm down instantly. You just have to nudge your body toward safe enough.

3. Complete the Stress Cycle With Micro-Movement

Stress is energy. If it doesn’t move, it lingers.

You do not need a full workout. You need completion.

Options:

• Shake out your hands for 30 seconds.

• Roll your shoulders slowly and deliberately.

• Do 10 wall push-ups.

• Step outside and walk briskly for 3 minutes.

Let your body discharge. Let it finish what it started.

If you’ve ever felt shaky after a hard moment and tried to suppress it, this is your invitation to let the shake happen. Your body is wise. It is trying to reset.

4. Orient to Safety

Trauma narrows our focus. We scan for threat. We miss what is stable.

Pause and slowly look around the room.

Name:5 things you see.3 things you hear.1 thing that feels neutral or pleasant.

Let your eyes move. Turn your head gently. Take in color, light, texture.

This tells your brain: I am not in immediate danger. There are exits. There are walls. There is space.

Orientation is powerful because it interrupts tunnel vision. It widens your world again.

5. Reduce One Thing

When overwhelm hits, we try to manage everything. Instead, choose one small reduction.

Cancel one thing.

Delay one email.

Move one task to tomorrow.

Ask for one piece of help.

Stress multiplies when we believe we have no choice. Even one small decision restores agency.

Resilience is not about carrying more. It is about knowing when to set something down.

6. Contain What Isn’t Yours

For the healers and helpers.

At the end of the day, sit quietly for a moment and imagine placing anything that is not yours into a container. A box. A basket. A jar with a lid.

You can pick it back up tomorrow if you need to.

This is not avoidance. It is boundary. Your nervous system needs a clear signal that the holding is done for now.

You do not need to do all of these. Choose one. Practice it daily when you feel peaceful, so it is accessible when you are not.

Regulation is not about eliminating stress. It is about increasing your capacity to move through it without losing yourself.

Small practices. Repeated often. That is how we stay steady in unsteady times.

You are more resilient then perhaps you know.

Ali