Building Resilience and Accepting Health Changes: How to Adapt When Your Body Won't CooperateNew Blog Post

When Your Body Stops Taking Orders

I had this vision of how my 70s would go.

I'd be skiing every winter, biking all summer, staying active and engaged. Sure, I'd slow down a bit, but the essential me – the guy who's always been physical and outdoorsy – that would stay the same.

Then I got diagnosed with two aggressive cancers simultaneously. Had a brain bleed that required months of careful monitoring. Suddenly skiing wasn't just difficult – it was potentially dangerous. The fatigue from cancer treatment meant biking 30 miles turned into struggling through ten.

And I had to face an uncomfortable truth: my body was making decisions about my life without asking my permission.

This is the reality of aging and health challenges that nobody really prepares you for. Your body, which has mostly done what you asked it to for decades, starts having other ideas. You can fight it. You can be angry about it. You can pretend it's not happening.

Or you can develop the resilience to adapt.

That second option? It's harder than it sounds. And it's also the only one that actually works.

The Grief Piece Nobody Mentions

Let's start with something important: accepting health changes and limitations doesn't mean you skip over grief.

When I realized I probably wouldn't ski this year – maybe not ever again – I was sad. Actually, sad doesn't quite cover it. I was pissed off and frustrated and grieving the loss of something that's been central to my identity for most of my adult life.

Winters in Vermont without skiing are long and dark. Skiing has been my reason to get outside, to stay active, to push myself physically. It's been a huge part of how I think about myself.

Losing that – even temporarily, maybe permanently – is a real loss. And trying to skip over that grief and jump straight to "acceptance" doesn't work.

You have to let yourself feel the loss.

This isn't just about skiing for me. It's about what skiing represented: capability, freedom, the feeling of moving through space with skill and control. It's about identity – who am I if I'm not the guy who skis challenging terrain and bikes long distances?

If you're dealing with health changes – whether it's cancer, chronic illness, an injury, or just the accumulated limitations of aging – you need to give yourself permission to grieve what's changing or gone.

Don't rush it. Don't minimize it. Don't let anyone tell you, "at least you have your health," when you're losing aspects of health you took for granted.

Feel the loss. That's step one.

What Resilience Actually Means (And Doesn't)

Here's what I've learned about resilience: it's not about toughness or positive thinking or refusing to acknowledge difficulty.

Real resilience is about flexibility. It's about adapting to new realities instead of rigidly insisting things should be different.

Resilience isn't: Powering through. Pretending you're fine when you're not. Maintaining the same pace and expectations regardless of circumstances. Refusing to acknowledge limitations.

Resilience is: Adapting your expectations to match current reality. Finding new ways to meet underlying needs when old ways don't work anymore. Being honest about what's hard while also looking for what's still possible.

Think about trees in a storm. The rigid ones break. The flexible ones bend and survive.

That's what we're talking about here. Not breaking yourself by refusing to bend. Learning to adapt to winds you can't control.

For me, this has meant accepting that my activity level needs to change. Some days I have energy, some days I don't. Some weeks I can push myself, other weeks just getting through basic tasks takes everything I've got.

Fighting that reality – insisting I should be able to do what I could do before – just makes me miserable and exhausted. Accepting it and working within it? That's resilience.

The "It Is What It Is" Philosophy

I say this phrase a lot: "It is what it is."

Some people think it sounds defeatist. Like I'm just giving up or resigning myself to whatever happens.

But that's not what it means at all.

"It is what it is" means accepting reality as it actually exists, not as you wish it were or think it should be. It means stopping the exhausting work of arguing with facts.

I have cancer. It is what it is.

I might not be able to ski this year. It is what it is.

Some days I'm too tired to do much of anything. It is what it is.

This isn't resignation. It's clarity. Because once you accept what actually is, you can start working with reality instead of fighting it.

The exhausting part isn't the reality itself. The exhausting part is the constant internal argument: "This shouldn't be happening. This isn't fair. I should be able to do X. Why is this happening to me?"

Those thoughts don't change anything. They just drain your energy.

"It is what it is" cuts through all of that. It acknowledges reality and then asks: "Okay, given what is, what now?"

That's where resilience lives. Not in denial or positive thinking, but in clear-eyed acceptance followed by practical adaptation.

Accepting Without Approving

Here's an important distinction: accepting reality doesn't mean you approve of it or like it or think it's fair.

I accept that I have cancer. I don't approve of it. I'd much rather not have it. It's definitely not fair or what I wanted for this phase of my life.

But arguing with reality doesn't change it. It just makes me more miserable.

Acceptance means: This is true. This is what I'm working with. Fighting against the fact of it won't make it not true.

From that acceptance, I can make better decisions. I can focus my energy on things I can actually influence rather than wasting it on wishing things were different.

This distinction matters because a lot of people resist acceptance, thinking it means they're giving up or being passive. They think fighting and resisting shows they haven't given in.

But there's a difference between fighting the disease (which makes sense) and fighting the reality of having the disease (which just creates suffering).

Accept what is. Then decide how to respond to what is. That's the path forward.

Building New Rhythms When Old Ones Don't Work

One of the hardest parts of health changes is that your old routines and rhythms stop working.

I used to have predictable energy patterns. I knew I could work intensely for several hours, take a break, work some more. I knew I could bike or ski and feel energized by it rather than depleted.

Now? My energy is unpredictable. Some days I wake up feeling decent. Other days, I wake up already exhausted. I can't count on feeling good at any particular time.

This requires building new rhythms.

Instead of planning my day around blocks of productive time, I'm learning to work with whatever energy I have in the moment. If I wake up with clarity and energy, I write. If I don't, I do easier tasks or rest without guilt.

Instead of pushing through fatigue because "I should be able to do this," I'm learning to listen to what my body is actually telling me.

This is hard for someone who's been achievement-oriented their whole life. It feels like giving in or being lazy. But it's not. It's being realistic about current capacity and working with it instead of against it.

Here's what building new rhythms looks like practically:

• Shorter work sessions with more breaks

• Flexibility in daily plans based on how you actually feel

• Having multiple options for activities at different energy levels

• Letting go of "should" and working with "what is"

• Being willing to cancel or change plans without shame

• Celebrating smaller wins because they're still wins, given current constraints

The Mental Game: Staying Present Instead of Future-Tripping

One of the biggest challenges with health issues is the mental spiral into future catastrophizing.

You start with: "I'm tired today."

Then your brain goes: "What if this fatigue never gets better? What if treatment doesn't work? What if I keep declining? What if I can't do anything I enjoy anymore? What if..."

This is what I call future-tripping. And it's completely normal and also completely exhausting.

Here's what I've learned: I can't actually know what's coming. I might get better. I might get worse. I might stabilize at this level. Treatment might work better than expected or worse.

The future is genuinely unknowable.

What I can do is stay present with what's actually true right now, today.

Today, I'm managing. Today, I have some energy. Today, I can write and think and have conversations with people I love. Today, this moment, I'm okay.

That doesn't mean I don't plan or prepare. It means I don't let worry about uncertain futures steal the present I actually have.

When I catch myself future-tripping, I try to come back to: What's actually true right now? In this moment, what do I have? What can I do?

Usually, the answer is: more than my anxious brain wants to believe.

Finding Meaning Within Constraints

Here's something nobody tells you: constraints can actually clarify what matters.

When you have unlimited energy and options, it's easy to scatter yourself across everything. When your capacity is limited, you're forced to choose.

What actually matters? What do you want to spend your limited energy on? Who do you want to spend time with? What's worth doing given current constraints?

For me, this has meant letting go of a lot of "should dos" and getting clearer about what I actually care about.

I should probably be networking more for business. But honestly? I'd rather spend that energy writing or having real conversations with people I care about.

I should probably push myself to stay as active as possible. But some days, resting so I have energy for what actually matters is the better choice.

This isn't giving up. This is getting clear about priorities. And sometimes constraints are what force that clarity.

The Practice of Adaptation

Building resilience isn't something you do once. It's an ongoing practice.

Every day, you're making small choices: Do I push through or rest? Do I insist on doing things the old way or find new approaches? Do I spend energy fighting what is or adapting to what is?

Some days you'll get it wrong. You'll push too hard and pay for it. Or you'll be too cautious and miss out on something you could have done.

That's okay. Resilience isn't about perfection. It's about learning and adjusting.

Here's what the practice looks like:

• Daily check-ins with yourself about capacity and needs

• Willingness to change plans based on reality

• Letting go of how things "should" be

• Finding small wins within current constraints

• Being honest about what's hard without dramatizing it

• Asking for help when you need it

• Celebrating adaptation as strength, not weakness

What You Can Still Control

When health takes away a lot of your control, it's easy to feel helpless.

But here's what I've learned: there's always something you can control, even when you can't control the big things.

I can't control having cancer. I can control how I respond to it.

I can't control my energy level on any given day. I can control how I work with whatever energy I have.

I can't control whether treatment works. I can control showing up for appointments and following recommendations.

I can't control how long I have. I can control what I do with the time I've got.

This matters. Because focusing on what you can't control creates helplessness and anxiety. Focusing on what you can control creates agency and purpose.

Building Resilience Is Hard Work

Let me be clear about something: none of this is easy.

Accepting health changes and building resilience isn't some simple mindset shift. It's hard, ongoing work.

There are days I'm angry about my limitations. Days I grieve what I've lost. Days I just want to give up and stop trying.

And that's normal. That's part of the process.

Resilience doesn't mean you never struggle or feel negative emotions. It means you keep adapting even when it's hard. You keep looking for what's possible even when a lot isn't. You keep building a meaningful life even within constraints.

Some days you'll do this well. Other days you won't. Both are okay.

The work is showing up, being honest about what is, and continuing to adapt.

Start Where You Are

If you're dealing with health changes – whether dramatic like cancer or gradual like aging – start where you are.

Accept what's actually true about your current capacity without judgment. Grieve what's changing or lost. Then start looking for what's still possible.

Build new rhythms that work with your current reality. Practice staying present instead of catastrophizing about the future. Focus on what you can control.

And be patient with yourself. This is hard work. You're going to have good days and bad days. That's normal.

The goal isn't to be perfect at acceptance or adaptation. The goal is to keep practicing, keep learning, keep adjusting.

Because life is going to keep changing, whether we're ready or not. Building resilience – the capacity to adapt with flexibility instead of breaking with rigidity – is how we navigate those changes with some grace and dignity.

It is what it is. And what we do with what is? That's where our agency and our humanity live.

Let's figure out how to do this together. I would love to have you come along for the ride on resilience.