Resilience, Reaction, and the Choice to Feed the Good Wolf

I was once given an assignment by a coach I was working with during a Women in Business workshop—designed for women who had been in business for over 10 years.

The task? Go home and post on social media the question: “What are 2–3 words you would use to describe me?” And then see what comes back.

It felt a little intimidating, but I did it. I got a ton of responses—mostly positive, powerful words.

But it’s interesting how we tend to latch onto the few that feel a little less cozy, right? There must have been like 47 responses—and maybe 3 of them said something like “intense.” The rest were incredible: leader, inspiring, intrepid.

Intrepid. I had to look it up.

The word intrepid means fearless, adventurous, and bold—especially in the face of danger or uncertainty. It’s often used to describe someone who shows courage and determination. I remember thinking: Dang… what a compliment.

That word stuck with me. I’ve carried it into the eye of many storms. When the shit hits the fan, I try to remember this quality in myself. There’s something powerful about hearing a word like that from people who know you. It engrains it in a more potent way.

The way I see it now, we always have a couple of choices. And sometimes those choices show up in a tight little window—right between the bad wolf and the good wolf. I choose to feed the good wolf. Sometimes we only get a few seconds to decide how we’ll perceive or respond to a situation: An event. A rejection. A negative response. A tough reaction from someone in our world.

I’ll be real—my MO is still a bit reactionary. I feel the upset. I sink into it. I get mad or sad or hurt. But here’s the trick: I don’t always react right away.

I let it simmer. I let it stew a bit. Sometimes I wait a day—or a couple days if necessary—and then decide how to take it in.

This proves especially hard when dealing with teenagers, who aren’t always concerned with how their reactions affect anyone else. They’re often looking to push buttons, to get a response—any response, good or bad. Talk about resilience training.

But here’s what I keep coming back to: Being intrepid means that no matter what comes at you, you take it in. You feel the pain. You feel the joy. You feel the hurt. You let it play its course. You don’t stuff it down or avoid it or numb it.

Then— You get your ass back up. You find the next best thing.

Maybe that means setting a new boundary. Maybe it means deciding not to take it personally—because most things really aren’t. You don’t react. You respond. You don’t let the situation knock you down and keep you down past that initial feeling stage.

I’ve had to access this trait a lot lately. The storms keep coming.

So I feel it. I breathe. I let it roll around for a healthy amount of time. I trust that it’s part of the process, or maybe part of the learning curve.

Then I choose—calmly—how to respond instead of reacting in a shocked state. It takes courage. It takes patience. It’s never perfect. It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable.

But it takes a lot to sit quietly and let the storm pass. It takes tenacity not to become the victim. Not to let it become yet another trauma tucked under the belt.

To say: “I’m okay. I’ve got this. I’m a rational person. I’m strong enough to get to the other side of the pain—so the clarity can sink in, and the next best step can present itself.”

Onward and upward, my friends. 

Stay intrepid in these hard times. This too shall pass.

Breathe. Pause. Then keep going.