I’m Not Unbothered. I’m anchored.

With everything going on right now, people keep asking me, “How do you stay so positive?”

Truth? I don’t always.

This past year kicked my butt. And this one came out swinging like we’re in the middle of a heavyweight fight. I’m not winning on points. Some days, it feels like life is standing in my corner, smirking, “Oh, she thinks she’s got it together? Let’s see how she handles this round.”

Anger. Fear. Uncertainty. They’ve all stepped into the ring, and they are not playing nice. It hurts. And as I sit here writing this, I’m doing my best not to cry.

But here’s what I hold onto: this will pass. It will become a memory. Life does get better.

The Reckoning

So how do I believe that, even now?

Because I’ve lived through worse.

In my mid-thirties, I lost almost everything. My job. My home. My marriage.

I had moved to a new city with no support system to build a life with someone, and that life ended before it really began.

I was angry. Furious, if I’m honest.

And I was scared.

Scared of starting over in the middle of a recession. Scared of what came next. Scared of having no safety net.

And when you’re making decisions from that place, from raw emotion, they are not always good ones.

Let me say it plainly: I made some terrible decisions. The kind you look back on and think, What was I even doing?

The Gap

I tried to fix it the way many of us do. Counseling. Self-help books. All of them.

I got so good at the theories that I could have taught a class. Ask me about “finding your North Star” or working through the “shoulds and oughts,” and I would have sounded like I had it all figured out.

But knowing something and living it are two very different things.

I remember sitting in a counseling session, frustrated, asking, “Why isn’t this working? I know what I’m supposed to do, but I still feel stuck.”

My counselor looked at me and asked a question that changed everything:

“What is your why?”

The Question

I didn’t have an answer.

I had spent so much time thinking about what I wanted to do that I had never really stopped to ask why I wanted it.

Finding that answer required stillness. Real honesty. The kind that makes you uncomfortable. The kind that strips away the story you’ve been telling yourself.

But once I found it, everything shifted.

The Pivot

Fear, anger, and uncertainty didn’t disappear. They still show up.

But they stopped being in charge.

Now they feel more like signals. They tell me when I’m out of alignment, when I’m focusing too much on things I can’t control. When I’m letting something or someone else pull me off my path.

And that difference changes everything.

The Anchor

So when people ask why I seem unbothered, this is the truth:

I’m not unbothered. I’m anchored.

I know my why. I know what matters to me. And I know I’m responsible for the direction of my life.

That doesn’t mean life stops hitting. It doesn’t.

Loss still hurts. Uncertainty still rattles you. Some days still knock the wind out of you.

But having that anchor gives me something to return to. It helps me regroup. Refocus. Keep moving.

Even when everything feels chaotic.

Your Turn

Have you ever taken the time to really define your why?

Not the polished version. The real one.

Because that is the difference between feeling like life is happening to you and knowing you can steady yourself, no matter what shows up next.