The Telegraph say's its World War 3, Maureen!
Tanya Furness
“The Telegraph says it’s World War Three, Maureen!”
Sitting in Costa, inside the big Tesco this morning (living the dream, I know).
An older gent at the next table loudly announced, “The Telegraph says it’s World War Three, Maureen!”
Without looking up from her sudoku, Maureen sighed, “Well, that’s just bloody typical, isn’t it?”
Snigger.
The British ability to downplay catastrophe is something I deeply admire.
It got me thinking about how differently people react when disaster strikes.
Lockdown was a good example.
Some built garden gyms, went on hikes, and basked in the traffic-free quiet,
(We did those things, to the ongoing disgust of our disgruntled neighbour, Janet).
Others went to pieces - some slightly sozzled for months on those endless 3-for-2 wine Waitrose deals - while others disappeared down conspiracy holes shouting at strangers online.
Lockdown was a resilience petri dish.
Resilience is what gets you out of bed at 6 am for a run in the rain, helps you stand your ground in a tough meeting, and set boundaries with your children, or your boss.
It's the ability to bounce back effectively after a setback.
And how deep you can dig in when tough things need to get done.
It’s a useful muscle to build - a strength-of-character savings account you can draw on when life’s set to hard mode.
Often, it is the difference between wanting something and actually getting it.
And it’s what separated the newly Japanese-speaking, six-packed, oiled statues from those who retreated, scared and disoriented.
🤔 What about you? Here’s a quick test.
Next time something small goes awry - a delayed train, rude email, burnt toast, or a passive-aggressive neighbour called Janet - notice your first reaction.
Do you tense up?
Roll your eyes?
Swear at things?
Plot a dastardly revenge? (I won’t lie, it was an effort not to.)
Look for who’s to blame?
That’s your resilience default.
And to improve it is simple.
(Not easy, just simple.)
Spot chances to practice sitting with discomfort a bit longer, on purpose.
And then a bit longer next time.
1 more breath before you reply to a sh^tty email.
Run to the next lamppost instead of the one you planned to turn and head home at.
Hold a plank/wall sit for an extra ten seconds.
When the train’s delayed, smile, do something useful - read, plan, breathe - instead of humphing and scrolling.
Relax and embrace 'the suck'.
Little nudges in the more challenging direction add up quickly.
The next time disaster strikes, you’ll have built resilience reserves to spare.
(Hopefully, The Telegraph is wrong, anyway.