The Messy Middle

The Messy Middle

We're on day nine without water. My lower back is painted with bruises from hauling heavy water jugs up two flights of stairs, and in a few hours, international guests will arrive at my doorstep. Despite my warnings about the situation, they're still coming. A part of me wants to build a blanket fort and hide until this all blows over.

But that's not who I am. So here I stand, in the messy middle of a situation I never imagined I'd face, choosing how to show up.

The practical challenges are daunting enough: How do you host people without running water? How do you prepare meals, maintain basic hygiene, or offer the simple comfort of a glass of water without turning it into an expedition? Yet the physical demands pale in comparison to the mental gymnastics of maintaining composure while everything feels like it's teetering on the edge of chaos.

And then there’s the familiar voice of self-judgment that whispers, "You shouldn’t complain. So many people around the world face this reality every day." This perspective is grounding and important. It reminds me of my privilege and connects me to global awareness. But I’m learning that acknowledging others’ harder realities doesn’t invalidate our own struggles. We can hold both truths: That we are privileged and that we are also human, experiencing challenges that affect us deeply.

This situation has taught me something profound about resilience. It’s not about maintaining perfect composure or never feeling overwhelmed. True resilience lives in the small choices we make when things feel impossible: The decision to take one moment at a time, to focus on intention rather than perfection, to show up fully even when we’re scared or uncertain.

And let’s be honest—sometimes it’s about finding humor in the absurdity. Like how I’ve started imagining my trips up the stairs with water jugs as part of a triathlon, complete with imaginary cheering crowds, or how I’ve turned rinsing dishes into a slow, meditative practice. These small moments of levity keep me grounded and remind me not to take it all too seriously.

The bruises on my back tell a story of physical endurance, but they also mark a deeper lesson. Every trip up those stairs with another heavy jug of water is a choice to keep going, to adapt, to find solutions rather than surrender to circumstances. It’s in these moments of choosing—choosing to continue, choosing to host despite the complications, choosing to face each challenge as it comes—that we discover our capacity for grace under pressure.

I’m learning that the art of navigating crisis isn’t about having all the answers or maintaining unwavering strength. It’s about being willing to stay present in the uncertainty to acknowledge our limitations while still stretching beyond our comfort zones. It’s about compassion for our struggles, the courage to keep showing up, and, yes, even laughing when the absurdity of the situation demands it.

So here I am, preparing for guests with no running water, my back aching, and my mind racing through all the potential complications. But I’m also here with intention, with acceptance of what is, and with the knowledge that this too shall pass. I’m choosing to believe that sometimes our most powerful moments of growth come not from handling everything perfectly but from handling imperfect situations with grace, humor, and authenticity.

What about you? What’s one messy middle you’re navigating right now? How might you show yourself grace today? Maybe it’s finding a small moment of humor in the chaos or simply choosing to take the next step forward. One water jug, one moment, one choice at a time.

Because perhaps, somewhere between the bruises and the uncertainty, there’s a kind of beauty in discovering just how much we can handle when we have no other choice but to try.