A few weeks ago, many of us felt strong.

January has a way of creating structure and momentum. There’s collective energy. There’s clarity. There’s the clean line of a new start. And if you shifted your relationship with alcohol during Dry January, that first month may have felt focused and even empowering.

But February is different.

This is the stretch where novelty fades and old patterns quietly resurface. The motivation that felt loud and obvious becomes steadier, sometimes softer. And it’s often here that people begin to question themselves.

Why does this feel harder now? Am I losing momentum? Is this a sign I can’t sustain it?

To answer that, I want to tell you about a moment from the 2026 Winter Olympics that I watched in awe last week.

The Race That Fell Apart — And Didn’t

During the women’s 4x7.5km cross-country relay in Milano Cortina, Sweden was leading when disaster struck. Ebba Andersson, skiing the second leg, fell in heavy slushy conditions. Not once — three times. On one of those falls, she broke her right ski.

What had looked like a dominant performance suddenly unraveled.

For over thirty seconds, she half-ran and half-skied on one ski, trying to reach a technician. When the technician rushed out to replace it, he slipped and fell as well. In the span of moments, Sweden lost over a minute. Gold slipped out of reach.

And yet she did not step off the course.

She stayed in motion, passed the baton, and her teammates fought back with extraordinary determination. Sweden ultimately secured silver, finishing nearly fifty-one seconds behind Norway. At the finish line, the team embraced Andersson — not in blame, but in fierce celebration.

They had fallen apart, and they had stayed in the race.

That moment is resilience.

And it’s not what we usually think.

The Myth of Resilience

Culturally, we tend to define resilience as toughness.

We imagine grit, power, pushing through without wobbling. We equate resilience with strength that looks smooth and unwavering. With willpower.

But decades of psychological research tell a very different story.

Resilience is not the absence of disruption.

It is adaptation in the presence of disruption.

Psychologist Ann Masten, one of the leading researchers in resilience, famously describes it as “ordinary magic.” By that she means resilience is not rare or heroic. It arises from normal human adaptive systems — our ability to regulate emotion, solve problems, connect with others, and make meaning from experience.

In other words, resilience is built from ordinary capacities practiced repeatedly over time.

It is not dramatic or flashy. It is adaptive.

Flexibility, Not Force

Researcher George Bonanno, whose work focuses on trauma and grief, found that resilience is closely tied to flexibility. The people who adapt best to adversity are not those who suppress emotion or pretend everything is fine.

They are the ones who can:

• Regulate their nervous systems

• Shift perspective when needed

• Adjust their behavior in response to circumstances

Flexibility. Regulation. Perspective shifting. Behavioral adjustment.

Notice what’s missing: perfection.

Resilience does not require a flawless performance. It requires staying engaged long enough to adapt.

What This Means for Changing Your Relationship With Alcohol

When someone completes 30 days without alcohol and then begins to wobble in February, the cultural script says: You’re slipping. You’re losing strength. You’re failing.

But from a resilience lens, something very different may be happening.

Your brain is recalibrating reward pathways. Your nervous system is adjusting to the absence of sedation. Emotional patterns that were numbed are resurfacing. Identity is reorganizing.

The question is not, “Am I strong enough?”

The question is, “How am I adapting?”

Not drinking is only part of the equation. If emotional regulation, perspective, and behavior remain unchanged, the system stays fragile. But when you learn to pause before reacting, regulate your body, shift your interpretation, and adjust your environment — that’s resilience forming.

Like Andersson, you may lose time. You may wobble. You may feel like something broke.

The critical factor is not whether the race goes smoothly. It’s whether you stay in it.

When I stopped drinking in 2019, my second month happened to be December — full of holiday gatherings and long-standing traditions. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was uncomfortable. What made the difference wasn’t toughness. It was adaptation: leaving early, protecting my sleep, adjusting my expectations, and choosing to do it all again the next day.

Nothing heroic.

Ordinary magic.

How to Build Resilience This Season

If resilience is adaptation, then it can be practiced. Here are a few research-aligned ways to strengthen it as you move into the weekend:

Regulate your body first.
Before reacting to an urge or stressor, slow your breathing, step outside, or move your body. Nervous system regulation precedes wise decision-making.

Shift the frame.
Instead of asking “Why is this so hard?” try asking “What capacity am I building right now?” Perspective changes physiology.

Adjust behavior intelligently.
Leave early. Bring your own beverage. Change the setting. Adaptation is not weakness — it’s strategy.

Stay connected.
One supportive conversation dramatically increases resilience. We are wired for co-regulation.

Focus on repetition, not intensity.
Resilience compounds through small, consistent responses — not dramatic declarations.

Resilience is Not Something you Either Possess or Lack

It is something you practice.

It is built when fear arises and you move forward anyway. It is built when you stay in the race after a fall. It is built when you regulate, adjust, and choose again.

Ordinary magic.

If you’d like structured support in building these underlying skills, my free 7-Day Experiment is a gentle place to begin — seven days of intentional awareness and practice.

And if you’re ready for a more committed stretch, my 30-Day Reset Experiment provides guided structure, reflection, and support to help you deepen the work beyond momentum.

Whether you begin with curiosity or commitment, what matters most is that you stay engaged.

Silver earned after a broken ski may not be the original plan.

But it is strength.