The Overbooked Life

Some of Us Learned to Be Strong Because We Never Had a Choice

Let’s read that again.

Some of us learned to be strong because we never had a choice.

That statement, at least for me, hits home.

How many people have we admired for their strength — the kind that changes our world, for better or worse? Yet, as we move through our daily lives, we sometimes forget how much the world itself changes us.

It forges us in the echoes of time.

Every hardship shapes and sculpts us. It can make us strong, but it can also leave scars — physical, emotional, or unseen.

We grow up surrounded by little sayings that stick with us:

“What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”
“What doesn’t kill us gives us unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

Honestly, I think both are true.

Growing Up Resilient

For those of us born in the 1980s, we’ve witnessed some truly historic highs and devastating lows.

We were the latchkey kids — the ones who left the house in the morning and didn’t come home until the streetlights came on. We rode bikes, fished in creeks, swam all day at the beach, and fed chips to seagulls without a second thought.

We also lived through recessions, pandemics, natural disasters, and acts of terrorism like 9/11. We saw history made with our first Black president and, later, our first female vice president.

We grew up recognizing the phrase, “If the glove doesn’t fit, you must acquit,” and we knew who it was about. We watched the original Dark Shadows reruns and somehow survived a world with no GPS, no smartphones, and no internet to tell us where our friends were.

When Innocence Cracked

Then came Columbine.

That was one of the first dark days that truly stuck with me. I remember the hushed whispers of teachers, the heaviness that filled the classroom. We all grew up a little that day. For the first time, I wondered if something like that could happen at my school.

Fourteen lives lost — thirteen students and one teacher. It scared me in ways I didn’t have words for.

But Columbine wasn’t the last.

Less than a decade later came Virginia Tech in 2007: 33 people killed, 23 injured. By then, school shootings had become tragically familiar. Between 1999 and 2007, there were over a hundred incidents in the U.S. The more we heard about them, the more numb we became. These tragedies didn’t “make us stronger.” They gave us new fears — and yes, a few more unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Adulthood and Aftershocks

By 2007, I was entering young adulthood — right in time for the Great Recession.

The collapse of the housing bubble, subprime mortgages, and irresponsible financial institutions made for a perfect storm. I was lucky in some ways — still renting, still figuring things out — but I remember moving back in with my mother to help her keep her home. That crisis felt personal, even if it didn’t break us.

Strength, Revisited

This went darker than I meant it to — but maybe that’s the point.

When you reread the opening line again, it rings even truer now:

Some of us learned to be strong because we never had a choice.

For me, that strength was forged in a childhood marked by fear — not just from the world, but within my own home. There was starvation, abuse, and a constant fight to survive. But there were also moments of freedom: riding my bike 13 miles to the beach, and small lessons in resilience that came from necessity.

One winter, my family went the entire season without power or heat because we were too poor to afford it. I learned that pinecones burn longer than cut wood, how to set traps, and how to ice fish just to stay warm and fed.

Those experiences taught me that strength isn’t always loud or heroic. Sometimes, it’s quiet persistence. It’s waking up, pushing through your own mental blocks, and surviving another day.

And survival — in any form — is still a win.

Forged by Life

We all have our own strengths to hold onto.

We’re each living through history, and every breath we take carves us into who we’ll become. Who you are today may look back in awe at who you’ll be tomorrow.

Wherever you are on this big blue globe, remember this: we’re all survivors.

Until next time — keep the coffee hot, and the chaos manageable.