Grit, Grace and Guidance

For almost three years, I’ve worked with a personal transformational life coach who has profoundly changed my life. Through our coaching together, she has helped me peel back the layers of my limited narratives, perfectionism, and survival-driven habits that ultimately caused me a great deal of emotional pain and kept me playing small. She introduced me to grit, grace, and guidance in our work—a trifecta that has become a cornerstone of my healing and transformation. This simple yet profound wisdom resonated deeply with me, not just because of its spiritual truth but because it aligned with my own journey. It challenged me to see where I had relied too heavily on grit, where I had resisted grace, and how I had shut myself off from guidance. These lessons, drawn from my struggles and growth, have shaped who I am today.

For much of my life, grit was my answer to everything. It had become a second skin, and I was proud to be as tough as nails and resilient as hell. My childhood hardships taught me to be strong and to move forward even when fear gripped my heart. For years, grit had been my guiding force. It was my badge of honor, proof of strength, and armor against vulnerability. But as I entered my mid-thirties, grit began to falter. The relentless drive that had always carried me forward now left me feeling trapped, my once unshakable strength eroded by exhaustion, both physical and emotional, and my confidence eroded by the constant hailstorm of unreasonable expectations and judgments toward myself. I found myself caught in an unyielding loop of striving, pushing harder, and beating myself up with tough love, even as my body and spirit cried out for relief. It was a sobering realization: grit alone was no longer enough. In the void left by grit’s unraveling, I reached a point of desperate surrender. There was nowhere else to turn, no other answer I could conjure, and in that surrender, grace quietly extended its hand, beckoning me toward a softer, more forgiving path.

Grit: My Training Ground

There’s a part of me that always believed I could handle anything—not just handle it but overcome and thrive from it. Growing up with hardship became a training ground for my tough and persistent way of navigating through life. Life handed me challenges, and I faced them head-on with sheer grit. I thought grit was the answer to everything. I thought it would save me, define me, and prove my worth. For a long time, it did.

I learned to be strong and to move forward even when fear gripped my heart. I built a life from the ground up—literally. In my twenties, I turned the cold cement box of a basement in an existing house into a fully functioning apartment. I did it all. I framed the kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom, and closet. I ran the electrical wiring, installed plumbing, hung drywall, textured the walls, and painted. Every nail hammered and wire connected was a declaration of my stubborn self-sufficiency. I poured my strength into proving my resilience and independence.

At the same time, I was earning my PhD, engaging in extreme sports, and pushing my body to its limits. I was a bodybuilder, played competitive softball, completed triathlons, and participated in long-distance cycling races. I trained upward to 4 hours a day, every day at all times of the day, even in the middle of the night, after spending a day building my basement apartment. I told myself this was strength, this was grit. I stubbornly clung to the belief that I could break through any barrier if I pushed hard enough. Grit was how I proved myself and kept going when life knocked me down.

When Grit No Longer Worked

At thirty-five, my body started to break down. In ten years, I underwent multiple surgeries—repairs for overuse injuries and the physical decline of my body under the weight of prolonged stress. Chronic, debilitating back pain became my constant companion, forcing me to let go of activities that once defined me. On top of that, I was diagnosed with two autoimmune diseases, leaving me physically drained and mentally exhausted.

The crumbling didn’t stop at my body. Emotionally, I began to break as well. Anxiety, a familiar companion, grew louder and more persistent. I lived in a state of agitation and overwhelm, always on the edge of feeling like I might lose control. And then came the depression—a weight that settled in my chest, born from not meeting my own impossible standards. I had spent my life striving for perfection, pushing myself to do everything flawlessly and with ease. When I couldn’t, the self-judgment was brutal.

For years, I danced between anxiety and depression, caught in a cycle of overachievement and sneaky and subtle self-criticism. I gritted my way through it, but grit wasn’t enough anymore. My body, mind, and psyche were all crying out for something more. I had to accept that I couldn’t do it alone, that the grit I had relied on to survive was no longer serving me. It was then that I began to surrender to grace and guidance.

Leaning Into Grace

Grace is the quiet, compassionate voice that whispers, “You are enough,” even when life feels overwhelming. It is the soft space we create for ourselves to rest, release the weight of perfection, and accept our humanity with love and understanding. Grace isn’t about giving up; it’s about giving ourselves permission to breathe, trust, and know that we are supported, even in our imperfection.

Grace taught me to breathe. It taught me to forgive myself for not being perfect and for not being able to do it all. It showed me that strength isn’t just about pushing through—it’s also about knowing when to rest, when to soften, and when to let go. Grace became a soft, steady counterbalance to the relentless pressure I had placed on myself for so many years. Grace whispered to me in the quiet moments, teaching me that life didn’t demand perfection—it invited presence.

The shift into grace has not been easy, and, to this day, I continue to dance between grace and being hard on myself. It’s a moment-to-moment choice, and it is practice. It is a muscle I’ve had to build over time. To embrace grace, I had to unhook myself from the fear that I wasn’t enough unless I was always striving, pushing, achieving, enduring, and proving my worth. Letting go of the hustle mindset hasn’t been easy.

Grace has shown me that there is profound strength in softness. Grace taught me to hold myself with compassion. On days when my body failed me, when chronic pain left me unable to do the things I once could, I learned to release the harsh judgments I’d so often cast upon myself. Slowly, that grace extended into my emotional world, soothing the wounds of self-criticism and perfectionism I had carried for far too long. It became a balm for my soul, reminding me that my worth was never dependent on my productivity or my ability to endure—it was intrinsic, unwavering, and whole. Grace has shown me that pausing to care for myself doesn’t mean I’m giving up or weak—it means I’m honoring the wholeness of my humanity.

Grace also created space—space for rest, trust, and guidance that would eventually lead me to a new way of being. With that space, I began to notice that I didn’t have to carry everything alone, that I wasn’t alone. Grace helped me loosen the relentless grip of grit and opened my heart to the possibility that life didn’t just demand effort—it offered a partnership.

Opening to Guidance

As grace softened my edges, it made room for guidance to enter my life. Guidance was something I had to surrender to, something I had to trust. Guidance is the gentle, often unexpected nudge that reminds us we are not alone. It is the wisdom that flows from trusting something greater than ourselves—whether it’s the Universe, intuition, or the support of others—and allowing it to illuminate our path. Guidance invites us to loosen our grip on control, to listen deeply, and to follow the signs that lead us toward growth, healing, and alignment with our true selves. For me, guidance came in many forms, but one of the most profound was the connection I experienced after my father’s passing.

His death was one of the most significant turning points in my life. I felt his presence with me even after he was gone—through dreams, the messages others delivered to me, and an unshakable sense of love and connection. These experiences, deeply personal and at times difficult to explain, opened me to a spiritual realm I had previously resisted. They taught me that I wasn’t alone and that there was greater wisdom guiding me if I was willing to listen.

Guidance also came through the people in my life—my coach, trusted friends, and mentors who offered wisdom, encouragement, and support when I needed it most. It came through books, podcasts, and moments of stillness when I could hear my inner voice more clearly.

Opening to guidance required me to let go of my tight grip on control and trust that life was holding me. It required faith—not the blind kind, but a deep, rooted faith that the Universe had my back and that I could lean on others without losing myself.

Golden Nuggets

The journey from grit to grace to guidance has been one of the most transformative experiences of my life. Grit taught me how to survive, push through the hard times, and keep going when everything felt impossible. Grace taught me how to breathe, let go of perfectionism, and hold myself with compassion. Guidance taught me how to trust—how to let life support me instead of feeling like I had to carry it all on my own.

Grit is a powerful tool, but it isn’t the only one. It can carry us through challenges and teach us resilience, determination, and perseverance. But grit alone isn’t enough to sustain us in the long term. Grit cannot carry us through everything; when we rely on it exclusively, we can run ourselves into the ground. Real growth comes when we recognize that grit has its place and learn to pair it with other tools like grace and guidance. Knowing when to lean on grit and when to let it go is an essential part of our journey.

Grace, on the other hand, is an invitation to soften. It’s a reminder that strength isn’t always about effort or pushing forward—it’s also about creating space to breathe, rest, and forgive ourselves for not being perfect. Grace is about meeting ourselves with compassion, especially when we fall short of our own expectations. It asks us to release the need for constant proving and striving and to trust instead that we are already enough. Through grace, I’ve learned that letting go doesn’t mean giving up; it means giving myself the room to be human.

Guidance requires a deep sense of trust, which can feel like the hardest lesson for many of us. It asks us to loosen our grip on control and listen—to ourselves, others, and the quiet wisdom of the Universe. Guidance teaches us that we don’t have to do it alone and that life is here to support us if we let it. Opening ourselves to guidance doesn’t make us weak or dependent; it makes us open and willing to receive the help and love that have been waiting for us all along.

Together, grit, grace, and guidance form a triad of resilience, self-love, and trust. They remind us that life isn’t something to be conquered or endured in isolation—it’s a partnership, a dance, an ever-unfolding journey. And within this journey, we discover that we are enough, just as we are.