Resilience is incredibly important for anyone dealing with adversity, chronic illness, and significant life changes. According to the American Psychological Association, resilience is the “process and outcome of successfully adapting to difficult or challenging life experiences, especially through mental, emotional, and behavioral flexibility and adjustment to external and internal demands.”
The Latin root of resilience, resilire, means something very specific: “to spring back” or “to recoil.” In physics, it’s the capacity of a material to absorb a massive shock and return to its original form.
But when you are living with a progressive disease like Alzheimer’s, you quickly realize that you can’t simply “spring back” to who you were before the diagnosis. Everything changes. The old playbook gets thrown out.
For me, resilience hasn’t been about passive endurance or waiting out the storm. It has required an active, daily defiance. I often reflect on how Linda and I face the slow worsening of my memory and the frustration of increased confusion. After a major treatment setback - when my Lecanemab infusions had to be suspended - I realized that my greatest weapon against this disease isn’t medical treatments. It’s my entrepreneurial spirit combined with the invaluable lessons I learned as a corporate event manager.
When Things Run Amuck, You Pivot
If you spend decades running small businesses, navigating market uncertainties, and managing risks, your brain gets wired to solve problems. Managing large corporate events teaches you that even with the best plans, things can and will go wrong. Generators stop working during a CEO’s presentation on a beach. Someone demands major changes to their PowerPoint deck minutes before walking on stage. An unexpected downpour strikes during an outdoor awards ceremony.
When a business model stalls or an event hits chaos, you don’t fold. You pivot.
Alzheimer’s took away my ability to drive last December. Rather than letting the frustration and disappointment fester into anger, my entrepreneurial mindset jumped into action. Linda and I looked at the logistics, analyzed our overhead, and executed a major strategic pivot: relocating to Greensboro, reducing our rent by 23%, and mapping out a life centered around walking, public transit, and absolute intent.
My resilience is anchored in a structured daily routine. It’s spending four to six hours every single day at my desk (or in bed with Big Bit sleeping beside me), studying clinical data and writing these blog essays and research reports. It’s walking my one to two miles a day to keep my body moving. It is an absolute commitment to creating value out of a crisis.
The Psychology of Bouncing Forward
Psychologists emphasize that resilience is not a fixed trait; it is a set of behaviors, thoughts, and actions that anyone can practice and develop. Key traits of a resilient person include:
Emotional regulation: The ability to stay calm and focused under stress.
Problem-solving skills: The capacity to calmly identify practical solutions during a crisis.
Survivor mentality: Viewing oneself as an active problem-solver rather than a victim of circumstance.
Social connections: Having a strong, supportive network of family, friends, and community.
Resilience does not mean a person never experiences sadness or pain. Rather, it means they can experience tough emotions and still move forward without letting those feelings control their actions. I certainly struggle with sadness, depression, and even anger.
But for other Alzheimer’s patients, resilience might look like a new hobby or community volunteer work. An article published today on LinkedIn explained the importance for dementia patients to keep asking what remains, rather than focusing on what has been lost. A diagnosis should never become a reason to lower our expectations or strip away opportunities. We must be resilient to the extent that our disease allows.
Building a Sustainable Future
True self-reliance means building something that stands on its own. Linda and I have spent the last few months developing a comprehensive Sustainability Plan. Our goal is simple but ambitious: we want to create independent income streams that make us entirely self-sufficient, protecting our future while reducing the heavy financial stress that feeds depression.
Linda is an incredibly accomplished fine artist, formally trained at the Corcoran School of the Arts & Design. After a three-year hiatus following her breast cancer surgery, she is anxious to return to her brushes, colored pencils, and custom paintings. I am currently building a website to market and sell her fine art to a broader audience.
At the same time, I am working to expand my own advocacy. I’m developing an outline for an upcoming e-book detailing the raw, unfiltered realities of my first year post-diagnosis and preparing to expand my Substack writing into a video podcast hosted on YouTube and Spotify.
Investing in the Venture
Every new venture requires starting capital for the right tools. To make our sustainability plan a reality, we need specific equipment to produce high-quality work.
Linda needs an easel, specialized lighting, a sturdy stool, and professional-grade art supplies. For the podcast and writing, I require production lighting, audio gear, and a dedicated editing station so I can deliver the polished media production my professional background demands. We will also need to collaborate with an SEO expert down the line to ensure Linda’s artwork and my advocacy reach the people who need them most.
Many of you have been incredibly generous since my diagnosis, and Linda and I are profoundly grateful for every bit of support. As we push forward into this next chapter of self-sufficiency, we are asking you to consider investing in our future through our GoFundMe campaign.
Think of it not as a handout, but as a seed investment in a small business built on grit, creativity, and a refusal to let an Alzheimer’s diagnosis dictate our horizon. If you aren’t in a position to contribute financially, simply sharing this post with your own network means more to us than you know.
Tomorrow is another day of writing, another mile to walk, and another step toward standing on our own two feet. Thank you for walking this road with us.