I was sitting at my kitchen table last Tuesday, staring at a rejection email for a parenting guide I’d spent months writing, when Milo toddled over and climbed straight into my lap. He patted my cheeks with his sticky hands and said “Mama sad?” in that way two-year-olds do, like they can see right through you.
And I realized something in that moment. Here I was, feeling like a failure over one rejection, completely forgetting that I’d already overcome so much harder things.
The transition from teaching to freelance writing. The postpartum anxiety that hit after Milo was born. The moments when I doubted whether our natural lifestyle choices were “too much” or not enough.
We’re so quick to measure success by external achievements: the published article, the perfect routine, the Instagram-worthy moment.
But real success? It’s quieter than that. It’s the challenges you’ve already faced and moved through, even when you didn’t realize how strong you were being.
If you’ve overcome these eight life challenges, you’ve already succeeded more than you think. And I’m willing to bet you’ve conquered more of these than you give yourself credit for.
1) Learning to set boundaries without guilt
For years, I said yes to everything. Every playdate invitation. Every volunteer opportunity at the community garden. Every family member’s unsolicited parenting advice that required a lengthy, gentle response.
Then one week when Ellie was three, I found myself so exhausted that I snapped at her over spilled juice. That’s when I knew something had to change.
Setting boundaries felt selfish at first. Like I was somehow failing as a friend, daughter, or community member. But as Brené Brown notes, “Boundaries are a prerequisite for compassion and empathy. We can’t connect with someone unless we’re clear about where we end and they begin.”
I started small. Saying no to one extra commitment per week. Letting calls from my mom go to voicemail when I was depleted, then calling her back when I had energy. Telling friends that Tuesdays were our family’s quiet day at home.
The guilt didn’t disappear overnight. But what did change was my capacity to actually be present with my kids. Matt noticed the difference too: I stopped being resentful about things I’d agreed to do but didn’t really want to.
If you’ve learned to set even one boundary without drowning in guilt, that’s a massive success. It means you’ve recognized that your wellbeing matters, and that protecting your energy isn’t selfish, it’s necessary.
2) Moving through loss or grief without shutting down
Grief doesn’t always look like you think it will. Mine showed up as numbness after my childhood dog died the same month Ellie was born. I thought I should feel one way, but instead I felt nothing for weeks, then everything all at once.
What I learned is that grief doesn’t follow a timeline or a neat progression. Some days you’re fine. Some days you’re knocked flat by a smell or a song or the way the light hits the kitchen counter.
The real challenge isn’t avoiding the grief, it’s staying open to it while still functioning. Still making breakfast. Still showing up for your kids. Still finding moments of joy even when sadness lives in your chest.
I kept a journal during those months. Not every day, just when I needed to. Sometimes it was just one sentence: “Today was hard.” Other times it poured out in pages. The act of writing helped me process without getting stuck.
If you’ve experienced loss and found a way to keep living, not just surviving, but actually living, you’ve accomplished something profound. You’ve proven that you can hold both grief and hope at the same time.
3) Letting go of a friendship that no longer served you
There was this friend from my teaching days. We’d grab coffee every Saturday morning before kids, talk for hours, finish each other’s sentences.
Then I had Ellie and started making different choices. Cloth diapers. Extended breastfeeding. Saying no to sleep training. She’d make little comments. “Still doing that?” or “Must be nice to have that kind of time.”
At first, I tried harder. Explained more. Justified my choices. But slowly I realized we’d grown into different people with different values, and that was okay, but it also meant our friendship had run its course.
Ending friendships is one of those life challenges nobody really talks about. We discuss romantic breakups endlessly, but friend breakups? Those happen quietly, with guilt and second-guessing and wondering if you’re being too sensitive.
The truth is, some people are meant to walk with you for a season, not a lifetime. And recognizing when someone consistently drains you rather than fills you up is a sign of emotional maturity, not failure.
If you’ve let go of a friendship that wasn’t serving you anymore, even when it hurt, you’ve demonstrated incredible self-awareness. You’ve chosen your peace over people-pleasing.
4) Asking for help when you needed it
Remember how I mentioned the postpartum anxiety after Milo? For months, I thought I could handle it myself. Breathwork. Nature walks. Essential oils. All the things that usually helped.
But this was different. The intrusive thoughts. The constant worry that something terrible would happen. The way my chest would tighten just from Milo crying.
Matt finally sat me down one evening after the kids were asleep. “You’re not okay,” he said, not as an accusation but as an observation. “And you don’t have to do this alone.”
Asking for help felt like admitting defeat. Like all my natural approaches weren’t enough. Like I was somehow less capable than other mothers who seemed to handle everything with grace.
But here’s what I learned: asking for help is one of the bravest things you can do. It means you’re prioritizing healing over ego. Progress over perfection.
I found a therapist who understood both my anxiety and my values. We worked together for six months. The anxiety didn’t disappear completely, but I learned to manage it. More importantly, I learned that needing support isn’t weakness, it’s wisdom.
If you’ve ever reached out for help when you needed it, whether that’s therapy, a friend, a support group, or just admitting to your partner that you’re struggling, you’ve overcome one of the hardest challenges there is. You’ve chosen vulnerability over suffering in silence.
5) Choosing your own path despite outside pressure
My mother-in-law means well. She really does. But when we decided to co-sleep with Ellie, she had opinions. Loud ones. About safety and independence and how we were “creating bad habits.”
My own parents were skeptical about the cloth diapers. “You’re making so much extra work for yourself,” my mom would say every time she visited.
Extended breastfeeding? The judgment from acquaintances at the park when Ellie was two and still nursing.
Choosing a different path, especially in parenting, means facing constant commentary. Everyone has an opinion about how you should raise your kids, run your household, spend your time.
The challenge isn’t just making the choice. It’s continuing to trust yourself when everyone around you is questioning it.
I remember one particular moment when Ellie was going through a rough patch with sleep, and someone at a playdate made a comment about how “this wouldn’t be happening if you’d sleep trained.” I felt my face get hot. Doubt crept in.
But then I thought about all the research I’d done. All the nights I’d rocked Ellie to sleep, feeling her little body relax into mine. The way she was developing into such a secure, attached child. And I realized: I knew my daughter better than anyone else. I knew what felt right for our family.
If you’ve ever chosen your own path despite pressure from family, friends, or society to do otherwise, that’s enormous. It means you’ve learned to trust your own judgment over external validation.
6) Accepting that you can’t control everything
I used to plan everything. Every meal. Every activity. Every nap time perfectly scheduled. The house cleaned just so. Work projects mapped out weeks in advance.
Then one week, Milo got sick, Ellie had a meltdown at the farmers’ market, my laptop crashed taking three unsaved articles with it, and Matt’s truck broke down all in the same seventy-two hours.
I stood in my kitchen, which was covered in dishes because who has time to clean when everything’s falling apart, and I just laughed. Manically, maybe, but I laughed.
Because what else can you do? Sometimes life just happens. The universe doesn’t care about your carefully crafted plans.
Learning to accept what you can’t control is one of those challenges that keeps coming back in different forms. You think you’ve mastered it, then something new shows up to test you again.
I recently read Rudá Iandê’s book “Laughing in the Face of Chaos” and his insights about embracing uncertainty rather than fighting it really resonated. As he writes in the book, “When we stop resisting ourselves, we become whole. And in that wholeness, we discover a reservoir of strength, creativity, and resilience we never knew we had.”
These days, I still plan. But I hold those plans loosely. I have backup meals in the freezer. I know that some days the kids will watch more TV than I’d like because I need to finish work. I accept that the house will be messy more often than not.
If you’ve learned to release the need to control everything and trust that you can handle whatever comes, you’ve achieved something most people spend their whole lives working toward.
7) Forgiving yourself for past mistakes
There was a period when Ellie was about eighteen months old, and I was in the thick of building my freelance writing career. I was stressed, sleep-deprived, and trying to prove I could do it all.
I yelled at her one day over something completely minor. The look on her face, confusion, hurt, still makes my chest ache when I think about it.
I apologized immediately. Got down on her level, explained that Mama was having big feelings and made a mistake. We hugged it out. But for weeks afterward, I replayed that moment, drowning in mom guilt.
The thing about mistakes is they’re going to happen. You’re going to lose your patience. Say something you regret. Make choices you’d do differently with more information or better circumstances.
Self-forgiveness doesn’t mean excusing harmful behavior. It means acknowledging your humanness. Learning from what happened. Making repairs where needed. And then, critically, letting it go.
I practice this now with small daily mantras. When I catch myself spiraling into guilt, I remind myself: “I’m doing the best I can with what I know.” Some days I believe it more than others. But the practice matters.
If you’ve learned to forgive yourself for past mistakes, to see them as part of your growth rather than evidence of your failure, you’ve overcome one of the most persistent internal battles we face.
8) Showing up authentically even when it feels vulnerable
Writing about my postpartum anxiety online for the first time was terrifying. What if people judged me? What if potential clients saw it and thought I wasn’t stable enough? What if my family read it and worried?
But I also knew there were other mothers out there struggling silently, thinking they were the only ones. And maybe sharing my story could help someone feel less alone.
The response was overwhelming. Not with judgment, but with gratitude. Other mothers reached out sharing their own experiences. A local mom I barely knew asked if we could grab coffee because she’d been dealing with similar struggles.
Authenticity is risky. When you show people who you really are, the messy parts, the uncertain parts, the parts that don’t fit neatly into anyone’s expectations, you open yourself up to criticism or rejection.
But you also open yourself up to real connection. To being seen. To finding your people.
These days, I try to bring that same authenticity to everything. My writing. My friendships. The way I interact with other parents at the playground. Not performing or pretending, just being.
It’s not always comfortable. Some people won’t get it. But the people who do? Those connections are worth everything.
If you’ve chosen to show up authentically in any area of your life, sharing your real struggles, admitting you don’t have it all figured out, being honest about who you are, you’ve demonstrated courage that most people only dream about.
Conclusion
That rejection email I mentioned at the beginning? I responded to the editor thanking them for their consideration, then I opened a new document and started working on a different piece. Because that’s what you do when you’ve overcome real challenges, you keep going.
Success isn’t a destination or a single achievement. It’s the accumulation of all the hard things you’ve faced and worked through. The boundaries you’ve set. The grief you’ve carried. The help you’ve asked for. The authenticity you’ve chosen.
Matt and I were talking last night after we got the kids to bed, our usual evening check-in where we ask each other “How was your day really?” I told him about writing this article and realizing how much we’ve actually overcome in the past few years.
He squeezed my hand. “We’re doing okay,” he said. And he’s right. We are. Not perfect. Not Instagram-worthy. But okay. More than okay, actually.
If you’ve overcome even a few of these eight challenges, please give yourself credit. You’re stronger than you realize. More capable than you give yourself account for. More successful than any external measure could capture.
The wins that matter most don’t come with certificates or social media likes. They’re the quiet moments when you choose growth over comfort, connection over perfection, and keep showing up even when it’s hard.
That’s real success. And if you’ve done that? You’re already winning.
