Today I did something that made my stomach drop. I accidentally deleted entire folders on my computer, which is years of work, presentations, photos and spreadsheets, all gone with one click.
At first, I went straight into problem solving mode. I spent hours trying to retrieve the files, speaking with Apple Support, logging into remote IT help, and working through every possible suggestion. I sat there watching progress bars, hoping something might reappear. But gradually, that hope faded, and I had to sit with the reality that it might all be gone. It’s a very specific kind of frustration to have lost not just the files, but the memories behind them.
Once the initial panic settled, I remembered I had a backup hard drive that I put away for the “just in case”. I went to find it to see that the glass container it was it had broken and it was now buried at the bottom of a box, surrounded by everything else. What I thought might be a simple solution suddenly felt just as complicated.
In that moment, everything felt overwhelming. The files were gone and my backup wasn’t easily accessible. There was a point in all this that I realised the choice that I had. I could stay in the frustration or try to work through it and accept my situation. Today, I am accepting that I can’t resolve this immediately, that I may need help to physically access the hard drive, and that some things might be lost.
That’s not an easy place to sit.
But it did make me pause and reflect on something else. I had done yoga that morning. Without even realising it at the time, I had already given myself the tools to manage the frustration. Breath, ground and remember that not everything is within my control.
So instead of continuing to push against the situation, I shifted my focus to the next small thing I could do. I went down to my local café with Molly and had a very strong coffee. Fresh air, a change of environment, and a moment to reset. It didn’t fix the problem, but it changed how I was holding it.
Sometimes when things feel like they’re unravelling, it’s not about solving everything at once. It’s about taking the next step that is available to you. After twenty years of navigating recovery, I’m still learning this.
We can’t always undo what has happened, but we can choose how we respond to it. And sometimes, that starts with something as simple as a breath, a coffee, and then moving forward from there.
So if today has thrown you something unexpected — a mistake, a setback, a “poof it’s gone” moment — remember this:
You might not be able to undo what’s happened but you can choose how you respond.