I’ve been in that space lately. Actually, I think many of us have, whether we’re navigating personal challenges, creative hurdles, or just the general weight of being human. It’s easy in those moments to feel like life is out to get you. I’ve even caught myself muttering things like, “Is this a curse? Did I miss the memo on how to make life easier?”
Just this past week, my car was rear-ended. Both of my kids were in the car, and while we’re all okay, there’s still the hassle of doctor visits, insurance claims, and the persistent sting of feeling vulnerable in the face of random events. On top of that, a plumbing issue caused flooding in our home. As I waded through these literal and metaphorical waters, I felt the weight of all these “why me” moments.
But what if these moments weren’t curses at all? What if the obstacles that knock us off course are the very things saving us?
A dear friend of mine is a remarkable artist here in Vancouver. Twenty-five years ago, she underwent a life-saving organ transplant. Recently, she’s been facing a new chapter in that journey as the transplanted organ begins to fail. She needs another transplant. Understandably, this has meant a long, grueling series of tests, appointments, and challenges. Each time she feels she’s cleared one hurdle, another one appears: immunizations, scans, bloodwork, more tests. It’s like she’s in a never-ending labyrinth.
Recently she shared some of the frustration, fear, and weariness from living with so much uncertainty, it poured from her as she recounted the obstacles in her path. She said something that hit me like a ton of bricks: “I just want to know already—am I going to be okay, or not? Why can’t they just let me get on the list?”
I sat with her words for a moment, closed my eyes, and let intuition lead me. A deep, quiet knowing arose. These weren’t just obstacles. These were guardians. Each test, each hoop she had to jump through, wasn’t delaying her—they were keeping her safe. I didn’t know the specifics, but I could feel it: the immunizations were shielding her from some unseen danger, the heart scan was uncovering something critical.
I told her what I saw. That she was being held, guided by something bigger than either of us could comprehend. And that she was going to be okay.
As I reflected on her story, I began to see the parallels in my own life. The car accident, the flooding, the endless series of things that seemed to go “wrong.” What if those weren’t curses? What if they were nudges—gentle, firm, sometimes inconvenient redirections meant to steer me away from harm and toward something better?
When we encounter roadblocks, our instinct is often to resist. We push against the thing that’s stopping us, grumble about the delay, or try to force our way through. But what if we paused instead? What if we could step back, take a deep breath, and trust that those obstacles are there for a reason?
It’s not about surrendering and saying, “Fine, universe, you do everything.” It’s about partnering with the mystery of life. We show up, take steps forward, and hold space for the possibility that what looks like a dead end is actually a secret door.
I’ve started to lean into this perspective more deeply in my journaling practice. This week, as I wrote about these challenges, I felt the shift. These so-called roadblocks began to transform. They weren’t barriers to my joy; they were stepping stones leading me toward it.
Although my friends journey ahead isn’t an easy one, she’s walking it with a little more trust now. As for me, I’m still working on my own relationship with life’s curveballs, but I feel steadier. Less frantic. More willing to ask, “What is this obstacle protecting me from?”
Life is full of mysteries, and we may never get the full answers. But when I look back at the moments that felt impossible, I can see how each one ultimately led me somewhere better than I could have imagined.
Maybe you’re facing your own version of this right now. If so, I see you. It’s not easy. But what if, instead of fighting the obstacles, you asked them what they’re here to teach you? What if, instead of seeing them as roadblocks, you trusted they might be guideposts, leading you home?
That’s what I’m holding onto today, and I hope it resonates with you, too.
love, love, love
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