Your resilience is just stubbornness with a therapist on speed dial.

The flattery of resilience is a soothing lie you tell yourself so you can keep banging your head against the same wall. What you call grit is merely stubbornness in a nicer cardigan, a refusal to admit that the plan was rubbish and the effort was wasted. The therapist on speed dial is not proof of depth or courage; it is a maintenance contract for a machine that should have been switched off years ago. You are not bending but not breaking. You are refusing to learn, and paying someone to help you feel noble about it. Every time you call that number, you are not healing. You are booking another session in the theatre of your own significance. The truth is less flattering. You mistake repetition for progress because stopping would force you to look at the wreckage and admit you built it. So you keep going, mistaking exhaustion for virtue, and calling it strength because the alternative is a quiet, unglamorous admission that you have been wasting everybody's time, including your own. The line lands best when someone boasts about surviving the same preventable disaster for the third time.