Finding the Blessing

Life isn’t always gentle. Challenges come in many forms—loss, disappointment, unexpected change—and it’s natural to feel overwhelmed in those moments. But within every difficult season, there’s an invitation: to shift perspective, to look for what’s being asked of you, and to discover the seed of growth that hardship often carries.

Finding the blessing doesn’t mean pretending everything is “fine” or ignoring your pain. It means holding space for both: acknowledging what hurts, while also asking, What is this teaching me? Sometimes the blessing is resilience, sometimes it’s clarity, sometimes it’s the chance to finally release what no longer serves.

This practice is about moving from “why is this happening to me?” to “what might this be showing me?” That subtle shift opens a door—one that lets compassion, meaning, and even gratitude enter, even in the hardest of times.

Below you’ll find guidance to help you navigate some of life's challenges with a mindset that honours your experience while guiding you toward growth. Each section offers perspective and reflective questions to support you in shifting how you see your situation. The aim isn’t to dismiss what you’re going through, but to open space for meaning — so that even in difficulty, you can begin to notice the quiet blessings hidden within.

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Stuck in Blame

Blame is often the first place we land when something hurts. It feels protective — if we can pin the cause of our pain on someone else, then at least we understand it. We tell ourselves, If they hadn’t done this… if that hadn’t happened… I wouldn’t be feeling this way. For a time, blame can even feel like justice. But over the long run, it holds us hostage.

The truth is that blame keeps you tied to the very situation you want freedom from. It focuses all of your energy outward — on what someone else did or failed to do — leaving little space for healing within yourself. And here’s the hard part: while blame might be justified, it doesn’t bring you peace.

The blessing, if you’re willing to look for it, is that blame can be a signal pointing you back to yourself. It reveals where your boundaries were crossed, where your expectations were unmet, or where your sense of worth was overlooked. Those realizations, while painful, are also the starting point for reclaiming your power.

When you feel yourself caught in blame, try reflecting on questions like these:

What part of this situation is asking me to see myself more clearly?
What boundary do I need to set moving forward?
Am I willing to release the idea that they must change in order for me to heal?
If I shift my focus from “who caused this” to “what is this teaching me,” what new perspective opens up?
How might holding onto blame be keeping me connected to a story I no longer want to live?

Releasing blame doesn’t mean excusing harm or pretending things didn’t hurt. It means choosing not to carry the weight of that story any longer. The blessing is the freedom that comes when you stop waiting for someone else to make things right, and instead choose to step into your own healing.

Navigating a Change You Didn’t Choose

Some of the hardest moments in life are the ones where change arrives uninvited. The relationship ends, the job disappears, the diagnosis comes, or life takes a turn you never asked for. These changes can feel like the ground has been pulled out from under you — leaving you disoriented, grieving, or angry at the unfairness of it all.

It’s natural to resist what you didn’t choose. To hold on to how things used to be, to replay what should have happened, to try and bargain your way back to “before.” But in time, holding on to what was only deepens the pain. The invitation is not to like the change, but to find a way to live with it — and eventually, to grow through it.

Sometimes the blessing in unwanted change is the strength it calls forth in you. Other times, it’s the clarity it brings — showing you what truly matters, what is non-negotiable, or what you’re capable of surviving. Change doesn’t erase who you are; it expands you.

Let these questions gently guide you as you navigate what's unfolding:

Where am I resisting what is, and how is that resistance affecting me?
What part of my life or identity is this change asking me to release?
What qualities in me are being strengthened because of this shift?
Is there anything this change might make room for — now or in the future?

Unwanted change is never easy, and it doesn’t come with quick answers. But even here, you are not powerless. Each time you soften your grip on what was and take one step forward into what is, you reclaim a piece of your strength. The blessing is not always obvious in the beginning — but with time, presence, and reflection, it reveals itself as the seed of transformation.

When Plans Fall Apart

Disappointment often clears space for something truer. What feels like failure in the moment may actually be a redirection.

Even the best-laid plans can unravel—despite your effort, vision, and intention. When things don’t go as expected, it’s easy to internalize the outcome as a personal failure, or to question your ability to trust yourself. But sometimes, the collapse of a plan is the exact thing that makes space for the life that’s meant to unfold.

Rather than asking what went wrong, consider what might be asking to go right in a different way.

When everything feels like it’s falling apart, try asking yourself questions like these:

• Is there anything I feel relief about, even if I’m still disappointed?
• What did I learn about myself in trying to make this work?
• If I trusted that something better was coming, how would I show up right now?
• What part of me is being invited to grow through this redirection?
• Am I holding onto this plan because it’s right—or because it’s familiar?

Letting go of a plan doesn’t mean giving up on your vision. It means creating space for something more aligned—something that may not have been able to reach you while your hands were full of what almost worked.

Facing Rejection

Being turned away (by a job, a relationship, a community) can sting — but it can also protect you from places where you don’t belong, and point you toward where you do.

Rejection often feels like a judgment of your worth — but more often, it’s a reflection of misalignment. It doesn’t mean you’re not enough. It means that version of the opportunity, that relationship, or that environment wasn’t meant to hold who you truly are. What feels like exclusion may actually be redirection — away from places that dim you, and toward spaces where you’re seen, valued, and allowed to grow.

When rejection feels personal, these questions might help you find a deeper truth:

• What was I hoping to feel by being accepted here—and is that still something I can offer myself?
• Is this rejection protecting me from a situation where I would have had to shrink or compromise?
• What parts of me feel judged—and are those the truest parts of me?
• Where have I felt genuinely seen and supported—and how can I seek more of that?
• If I believed this closed door was guiding me somewhere better, what might I notice now?

Rejection may sting, but it doesn’t define you. It creates space for something more authentic—something that fits not just who you were trying to be, but who you really are.

Conflict in Relationships

Arguments or tension can feel destructive, but they often reveal deeper needs, boundaries, or truths that can guide healthier connections moving forward.

Conflict isn’t always a sign that something’s broken. Sometimes it’s a sign that something is surfacing — a truth that’s been hidden, a need that hasn’t been named, or a pattern that’s no longer working. When we approach conflict with curiosity rather than defensiveness, it becomes a mirror: showing us where we feel unseen, where we might need to speak more clearly, or where the relationship needs to evolve.

If you’re navigating tension or miscommunication, these questions might help you move toward clarity:

• What am I really trying to express beneath the anger or frustration?
• Is there a need or boundary that hasn’t been honoured or clearly communicated?
• Am I reacting to this moment, or to a pattern that’s been building over time?
• What might the other person be trying to express, even if their words feel hurtful?
• Is this conflict inviting growth, distance, or a shift in how we relate moving forward?

Conflict can be uncomfortable — but it can also be transformative. When handled with care and honesty, it has the power to strengthen your connection or clarify what’s no longer aligned.

Comparison

When you measure your life against someone else’s, it’s easy to feel behind — but what you see is only part of their story, not the whole.

Comparison thrives in silence. It creeps in during quiet moments, whispering that you’re not doing enough, achieving enough, or becoming enough. But most of what we compare ourselves to is a highlight reel — a curated version of someone else's journey. What we don’t see are the doubts, setbacks, and invisible struggles that live beneath the surface.

Your timeline is not meant to look like anyone else’s. Life unfolds in seasons, and what looks like stagnation may actually be deep inner growth. What appears like success in someone else’s life might not even be aligned with what your soul truly wants.

If you find yourself caught in comparison, pause and ask:

• What part of their story am I idealizing — and what might I not be seeing?
• What is this comparison showing me about what I want more of in my own life?
• Is this desire rooted in genuine alignment — or in pressure to prove something?
• What would I notice or appreciate about my life if I stopped looking sideways?
• What makes my journey uniquely mine — and how can I honour that today?

You don’t need to keep up. You only need to keep going — in the direction that feels like home to you.

Feeling Stuck or Restless

Periods of stagnation can feel frustrating — like nothing is moving, no matter how hard you try. But often, what feels like stillness on the surface is quiet preparation underneath.

Restlessness shows up when your soul is ready to grow but your life hasn’t caught up yet. You might feel trapped in routines, disconnected from purpose, or unsure what’s next. These feelings aren’t a failure — they’re signals. A nudge from within that something needs to shift.

Instead of pushing forward blindly, this may be a time to pause and listen more deeply. Clarity often emerges when we stop forcing answers and begin asking better questions.

When you feel stuck or restless, try exploring:

• What part of me is asking to be seen, heard, or expressed right now?
• Is there something I’ve been avoiding because it feels too uncomfortable to face?
• What would I choose if fear, failure, or judgment weren’t part of the equation?
• Where in my life am I still living on autopilot?
• Could this pause be a chance to realign before the next chapter begins?

Stillness isn’t always a block — sometimes, it’s the space where your next becoming begins.

Navigating Trauma

Trauma can leave deep imprints — on your body, your beliefs, your ability to feel safe. When something overwhelms your nervous system, it can shape how you see yourself and the world around you.

Navigating trauma isn’t about finding quick meaning in pain. It’s about acknowledging what happened, tending to what still hurts, and allowing healing to unfold in its own time. The blessing isn’t in the trauma itself — it’s in the strength, clarity, and compassion that can begin to emerge as you move through it.

There’s no right pace. No single path. But when you feel ready, these questions may help you gently begin to shift how you hold your story:

• What do I need right now to feel safe, seen, or supported?
• What truths did I learn about myself through surviving this?
• Is there a part of me that’s still carrying the weight of what happened — and what would it take to begin putting it down?
• How have I changed — and how might that change become a source of strength?
• What does healing look like for me, in this season?

You don’t have to turn pain into a gift overnight. But as you reclaim your story, piece by piece, you may discover a deeper power — not in what happened to you, but in how you choose to rise from it.

Navigating Loss

Loss reshapes us. Whether it’s the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or the quiet disappearance of something once familiar, grief alters the landscape of our lives.

While the blessing may not always be found in the loss itself, it often reveals itself over time—through deeper empathy, greater capacity for love, or newfound clarity about what really matters. But before any of that can emerge, there is ache. And in that ache, a sacred space for remembrance, tenderness, and transformation.

You don’t have to rush toward meaning. But if you feel called, these questions may gently support your process:

• What am I learning about love through this loss?
• How can I honour what (or who) I’ve lost in a way that brings peace?
• Is there anything this grief is revealing about what I need, what I value, or what I’m ready to let go of?
• How have I grown more compassionate toward myself and others because of this experience?
• What part of me feels most impacted by this loss — and what kind of care does it need?

Grief doesn’t ask you to move on. It asks you to carry love forward in a new way. And in time, that love may become the light that guides your next step.

The Blessing in the Hardship

It’s easy to wish the hard things never happened. To imagine a version of life where everything went according to plan — no grief, no rejection, no unexpected turns. But ease doesn’t always shape character. Pain, while never deserved or sought, often becomes the soil where our deepest growth takes root.

It’s through heartbreak that we learn to hold space for others in theirs. Through loss, we understand the preciousness of connection. Through failure, we develop humility. These experiences expand our capacity for compassion, empathy, and kindness — not just for others, but for ourselves.

And the alternative? A life without hardship may sound appealing — but look closely at those who’ve never had to wrestle with discomfort or sit with their own pain. Often, what you find is disconnection. Entitlement. A lack of empathy for anyone whose path looks different from theirs. Without challenge, there’s little reason to develop self-awareness, humility, or compassion. Without hardship, there's little growth.

So if you’ve walked through darkness and still choose to be gentle with the world — that is a rare kind of strength. And while the pain may never feel “worth it,” it has likely shaped you into someone more aware, more present, and more capable of love.

That’s the quiet blessing: not the pain itself, but who you become because of it — and the kind of world you help create because of who you’ve become.

Robyn On Purpose