When Resilience Is Quiet

Ricky Cortez
Jan 11
4 min read

A CARE Practice Reflection - by Ricky Cortez

I want to talk about a quieter kind of resilience today. The kind that doesn’t look impressive from the outside. The kind that doesn’t come with breakthroughs or big realizations.

Where do you find your quiet Resilience and how does that craate grounding for you?

This is something I’m actively practicing with my own family.

There are times when resilience looks like problem-solving, advocating, learning everything you can, holding multiple perspectives, and staying grounded when things feel hard. I know that version well. Many of us do, especially parents and caregivers.

But lately, I’ve been learning that there are moments when that version of resilience actually starts to weigh us down.

I notice this in myself. When things pile up, my instinct is to make meaning quickly. To integrate. To understand. To turn the moment into growth while I’m still standing inside it. It’s a strength, but it can also become exhausting.

What I’m learning is this:

I don’t need to metabolize an experience into wisdom while I’m still living it.

Sometimes resilience isn’t about adding more tools. Sometimes it’s about putting a few of πthem down.

What I Have to Watch in Myself

I have to be honest about my patterns. When stress builds, I tend to:

Hold everyone’s perspective
Track everyone’s emotional state
Anticipate what might come next
Try to stay one step ahead of discomfort

This often comes from care. From love. From wanting my family to feel safe and supported.

But if I’m not careful, I end up carrying too much. And when I carry too much, I can’t actually offer the kind of regulation and presence I want to give. I’m technically “showing up,” but my nervous system is already overloaded. So part of my work has been learning when to stop adding ingredients to the soup.

Quiet Resilience in Real Life

Quiet resilience shows up in small, unglamorous ways.

It looks like choosing not to solve something today. Simply stopping, observing and becoming curious. It looks like letting uncertainty exist without filling every space. It looks like pausing reflection and letting my body settle first.

This is something I practice intentionally, because I know that if I don’t regulate myself, I can’t help co-regulate anyone else. Regulation doesn’t come from effort. It comes from capacity and capacity comes from self-care.

Resilience Is Not Endless Availability

One of the hardest truths for caregivers to accept is this:

You are not required to be endlessly available in order to be loving.

Boundaries are not withdrawal. They're our oxygen mask.

When you reduce how much you carry, you are not abandoning your family or your role. You are ensuring that you can stay present without becoming brittle or resentful. What we sometimes forget is that self-protection is part of regulation. You cannot model grounded care while depleted.

I’ve learned that when I give myself permission to pause, to rest inside uncertainty, something shifts. I don’t have to force regulation. It starts to happen more naturally.

What This Looks Like in My Family

In my own home, this means:

Choosing one lane per day instead of trying to be everything at once
Containing conversations so they don’t spiral late into the night
Creating moments of connection that don’t require processing
Letting myself be supported without fixing or reframing

These choices don’t always feel productive, but they are protective.

When I care for myself this way, I notice that I’m more available emotionally. I respond instead of react. I can sit with my kids’ discomfort without needing to rush them through it. Co-regulation happens because I’m regulated. Not because I tried harder.

This Is Still Growth

I want to name this clearly, because so many caregivers worry about this.

Choosing rest is not avoidance. Choosing less is not failure. Pausing growth work is not giving up. Sometimes growth looks like pacing. Sometimes resilience looks like restraint.

The insights will come later. They always do, but only if we don’t exhaust ourselves trying to extract them too soon.

A Practice I Come Back To

When things feel heavy, I stop, place a hand on my chest, take a breath and remind myself:

I don’t need to solve this today.

I say it as a boundary. I say it as permission. I say it as care.

Because resilience isn’t only built through effort. It’s sustained through compassion, containment, and knowing when to stop carrying. And when we care for ourselves this way, we don’t just survive hard stuff. We model something powerful for our families:

A quieter, steadier way forward.

Where do you find your quiet Resilience and how does that craate grounding for you?

With Gratitude,

🙏🏼 Ricky Cortez

🌐 CARE Website: https://mediastarllc.wixsite.com/CARE

🎧 Spotify Podcast / 🍎 Apple Podcast / ▶️ YouTube Channel

📸 Instagram / 🎬 TikTok / 📘Facebook

👉 SUBSCRIBE: Bridging the Gap (5 min Somatic Mindful Breathing)

📺 YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/c/Mediastarllc2003

💚 Ready to Root?

Whether you’re showing up solo, with your partner, your kids, or your work team—you are welcome here. My job is to hold space, guide practices, and offer a roadmap for reconnecting to the wisdom already inside you.

I invite you to come curious, come messy, come as you are.

Let’s connect. Let’s get rooted. CLICK HERE TO LEARN MORE 🌿

Find Your Calm with CARE. If you’re not able to participate directly, I’d be deeply grateful if you’d share CARE with friends, family, or colleagues who may benefit.

🌿 CARE Mantra