What Brave People Do in a Crisis
When life sucker-punches you—and it will—the bravest among us don’t just white-knuckle their way through. They find a way to survive on purpose. Here’s how they do it:
1. They Lean on More Than One Person
Brave people don’t rely on just one lifeline when they’re sinking—they build a net strong enough to hold them. They build a rescue team. Think of it like this: you need your A-list for the big stuff—emotional support, child care, decision-making. But your B-list? That’s for errands, dog walking, meal trains, Target runs.
This isn’t about being needy—it’s about being human. Let your people help. They want to. You’ll return the favor one day. Bravery is being willing to be “the helped” when you need it most.
Pro tip: Make two lists: one for your inner circle, one for everyone else. Don’t guess what people want to do—tell them. Clarity is kindness.
2. They Stop Keeping Score
When we’re in pain, it’s easy to take roll. Who showed up. Who didn’t. Who ghosted you after your divorce. Who posted baby pictures after your miscarriage. It hurts.
But brave people don’t live from that wound. They stop rehearsing resentment and start rehearsing recovery—imagining themselves walking back into the gym, finally replying to the email, applying for the thing they thought they missed, or sitting across from a friend and saying, "I made it."
Instead of imagining comebacks you’ll never say, imagine rebuilding your life stronger. Imagine helping someone else through what almost crushed you. That’s the mental movie that wins.
3. They Stop Arguing With Reality
Crisis invites denial. “This isn’t happening.” “He’ll come back.” “The test must be wrong.”
But brave people move through the fog and into radical acceptance. Not agreement. Not permission. Just the gut-level choice to stop fighting what is and start working with it.
They stop asking, “Why me?” and start asking, “Now what?” Like my client Anna, who—after her partner left her during chemo—stopped asking why he abandoned her and started asking what she could still make of her life. She dyed her hair pink, finished radiation, enrolled in culinary school, and hosted Sunday dinners for single moms. That’s what ‘now what’ can look like.
4. They Give Themselves Permission to Grieve
Real grief is messy. It’s snotty and sacred and inconvenient. And if you skip it, it doesn’t go away—it just leaks out sideways later.
Brave people don’t rush to fix. They stop. Mourn. Rage. Weep. Journal. Ugly cry in the car.
Because loss isn’t just death. It’s the death of a dream. It’s the closed nursery door after a miscarriage. It’s the wedding dress you never got to wear. It’s the empty inbox after the layoff. The things we hoped for, worked for, prayed for—and then didn’t get—those are real losses. And brave people grieve them, too. Of what you thought life would be.
Grief opens up sacred space. It makes room for what’s next. But you don’t get what’s next if you won’t sit with what’s now.
5. They Tap Into Deep Strengths
This is where it gets spiritual. When life breaks you, Netflix can’t put you back together. Neither can wine or scrolling Instagram.
But music? Art? Faith? Breath? A dog who knows when you’re not okay?
That stuff anchors you.
Brave people turn inward and upward—sitting in silence with their breath, rereading the poem that always grounds them, lighting a candle when the night feels too dark, or whispering a prayer just loud enough for their own soul to hear. They build playlists. Plant gardens. Light candles. Talk to God. They remember what’s good and let it hold them while the ground shakes.
Want to measure your resilience? Take my free assessment [here].
You are braver than you think.
You’re not behind.
You’re right on time.
Keep going,
Cindy Finch, LCSW
About Cindy:
Cindy Finch, LCSW is a therapist and author who trained at Mayo Clinic. She’s a survivor of misdiagnosed cancer during pregnancy, which led to heart, liver, and lung failure—and a profound reinvention of life. She now lives in San Diego County, CA with her husband, Darin, and their three kids. She works closely with people navigating loss, reinvention, and the sacred work of coming back to life.
