Episode 8: Finding My Way- Life After Leaving the Hospital

Leaving the hospital was supposed to feel like freedom.

Instead, it brought a whole new set of challenges.

In this episode of Resilience with Tasha Schuh, I share what it was like to leave the safety of the hospital and begin adjusting to life outside its walls.

From moving into the Ronald McDonald House… to relying on my family in new ways… to returning home and facing a world that suddenly felt very different, this chapter was filled with uncertainty, emotion, and important lessons about perspective.

While some moments brought hope, others brought heartbreak.

But through it all, I began discovering that resilience isn't about having all the answers.

Sometimes it's simply about finding the courage to keep moving forward.

In this episode:

• Leaving rehab and transitioning to the Ronald McDonald House
• Learning to adjust to life outside the hospital
• Returning home and reconnecting with friends
• The people who helped carry me through one of the hardest seasons of my life

Next time, we'll continue the journey as I learn new routines, prepare for graduation, attend wheelchair camp, and continue figuring out what life after injury would look like.

Learn more about my resilience coaching and speaking at: https://TashaSchuh.com

I would also love to hear from you. If there are topics you’d like me to cover or guests you’d love to hear from, please reach out and share your ideas with me at: Tasha@TashaSchuh.com

If this episode encouraged you, please subscribe to the podcast and share it with someone who could use hope and resilience today.

Transcript

0:07

Welcome back to Resilience with Tasha Shu. I am so grateful that you're here with me today as we continue on this journey together. If you've been listening along, you know that the last several episodes have taken us through some of the hardest and most life-changing moments of my story. From my accident to the ICU to rehabilitation and everything that came with learning how to survive physically, mentally, and emotionally after my spinal cord injury. But today's episode marks another major transition in my life. Because after months in the hospital and rehab, it was finally time to leave. And honestly, that moment brought a mixture of emotions that I don't think I fully expected. On one hand, leaving the hospital sounded exciting. It meant progress. It meant freedom. It meant I was one step closer to rebuilding my life outside those hospital walls. But on the other hand, the hospital had also become my safety net. It was the place where nurses, doctors, and therapists surrounded me every day. It was structured, predictable, supported. And suddenly I was facing a completely different reality. So in this episode, I'm going to take you in to what it was like to leave the safety of the hospital and move into the Ron McDonald House, what it looked like to rely on my mom for my daily care, how I prepared for an experienced prom, what it felt like to move into our new home, and the challenges and emotions of starting to go back to school and entering back into a world that felt so different. Now, as we continue this journey together, I just want to remind you of something that is just a huge part of why I started this podcast in the first place. Resilience is not about having a perfect attitude all the time. It's not about pretending things don't hurt. And it's not about never struggling. Resilience is learning how to keep moving forward, even when life looks completely different than you expected. And sometimes resilience looks courageous and inspiring. And sometimes it simply looks like getting through the next hour. And so that's why I share these stories. Because whether you're navigating a disability, grief, loss, disappointment, mental health struggles, relationship challenges, or simply a season of life that feels overwhelming, I want you to know today that you are not alone. Please hear me when I say that. You are not alone. And before we jump in, I just want to ask one quick favor. If this podcast has encouraged you in some way, in any way, would you take a moment to subscribe? Would you leave me a review? That would mean so much. And also, would you share it with someone you love who may need this? I mean, there are millions of people living with disabilities, and there are millions more who need a reminder that difficult circumstances do not get the final say and that their future is still worth fighting for. Because my hope is that these conversations remind people that even in life's hardest moments, hope and resilience are still possible. And so it would truly mean the world to me if you helped share this message with others. So with that, let's continue the journey. This is episode eight, finding my way, life after leaving the hospital. So leaving rehab really was supposed to feel exciting. And in some ways, it did. I wanted so badly to move home. I wanted my old life back. I wanted familiarity, comfort, normalcy, all the things that I had been missing for months. But there was one major problem. Our new home wasn't finished yet. And at this point, it was towards the end of March, and Prom was still a month away. So instead of going straight home to Ellsworth, which is about an hour and a half away from Rochester, we made the decision for me to transition to the Raw McDonald's house. And honestly, looking back, I think it all just made us all feel safer. Because as I mentioned earlier in my earlier podcast, the Raw McDonald's house was only about two blocks away from the hospital. And so I would still be going to outpatient occupational and physical therapy every single day. Well, Monday through Friday. So while I was technically leaving the hospital, I still had the safety net nearby, especially because I was continuing to have issues with coughing and fluid pockets in my lungs. And there was still so much uncertainty medically. And knowing we were only two blocks away from help really brought a sense of comfort to all of us. My mom and me especially. And one of the things that was really exhausting for me during this transition was just simply how much more time I would be spending sitting up in my wheelchair. Now I was on the rehab unit. They would get me out of my wheelchair and put me back into bed for at least a couple hours every afternoon to rest during lunchtime. And as soon as therapy was done, around five o'clock, I was usually back in my bed for most of the evening. But when I left the hospital, I would need to start being up in my chair much more often because I wouldn't have the luxury of nurses to get me in and out of bed and back into my wheelchair. So I would need to stay up in my wheelchair. But the good news of that, the hope of that, was that by sitting upright longer, those pockets of fluid in my lungs would begin to lessen. They would leave, that was the hope, and I would not have to cough as much. But honestly, the fear of having to cough and not be able to breathe was definitely still there, a very real fear. And my mom was especially excited about me moving to the Ron McDonald house with her because for months she'd been telling me all about the amazing people staying there. Families from all over the country who were walking through life-threatening illnesses, injuries, surgeries, and impossible situations, coming to the world-renowned Mayo Clinic, hoping for there to be answers and remedies to the diagnosis that they had received. And so there were families dealing with cancer, transplants, terminal illnesses, stories that were heartbreaking and inspiring all at the same time. My mom kept saying, you just have to meet these people. Tasha, they're so amazing. I just, you have to meet them. And so we packed up and officially left the hospital. And my mom and I looked at each other with honestly pretty scared eyes. I mean, this was very different now. There were no nurses down the hallway, no call button. It was just us two. And I remember that first night at their mom McDonald house feeling really scary. And I think that was really one of the first moments where the reality of my future began hitting me in a completely different way. Because suddenly I realized just how dependent I truly was on other people. I needed help with almost everything. My mom was doing the majority of my care, along with people from a local home health care agency in Rochester who would come and help in the mornings and in the evenings. But honestly, the care from the agency was not all that great. It was different people coming almost every day who did not know my routine, did not know my cares. And it's very difficult to explain your entire routine to a completely new person multiple times a week. So it's really hard to get into a routine. Plus, strangely, I'll never understand this, but there were things that they couldn't help me with because of agency policies. And I remember thinking to myself so many times, like, what would I do if my mom wasn't here? Because my mom was doing everything. She was helping me get dressed, helping me go to the bathroom, doing my hair, my makeup, helping feed me. She was also helping with transfers. But because I was so tall, she couldn't do those safely alone. So we always need another person to help move me in and out of bed. These were the days before horror lifts, so I would use a sliding board to get in and out of bed. So I needed two people for that transfer. And even though I had learned how to do my makeup in rehab, the exhaustion of simply existing outside of the hospital was overwhelming enough. I really just did not have the energy. And so when I look back now, I honestly don't know how my mom carried everything she was carrying during that season. Not only was she carrying for me almost around the clock, but she was still trying to help run our family grocery store remotely from Rochester, managing the stress of our new home being built. And now my brother had decided that he was getting married in August. Now, thankfully, most of the wedding planning was being handled by his future wife's family, but still it was another major life event happening in the middle of complete chaos. And there was just so much on her plate. And I could just see it in her eyes. I could see the stress, the fear, and the worry. My family would come down and they would help when they could, but our room at the Real McDonald's house was tiny. There really wasn't space for extra people to stay overnight. So, really, the majority of everything fell on my mom's shoulders. And honestly, I felt like such a burden. I felt like this was all my fault and that I was wrecking my family's life. Feeling this way would make me spiral. So I'd have to remind myself not to think this way and to not think too far ahead. Because if I started thinking about my mom caring for me for the rest of my life or even for the next year, I would spiral. So instead, I just focused on getting stronger, getting through therapy, getting through each day. But in the middle of all that fear, the Ron McDonald House became one of the biggest blessings our family could have ever, ever experienced. Not just because of the people, although the people were incredible, but because of the environment itself. I mean, there was this huge kitchen on each floor of the building stocked with food. And I remember local restaurants, businesses donating meals constantly. Cinnabon, Subway, homemade dinners from volunteers. I mean, the blessing of it was we didn't have to worry about cooking or grocery shopping or trying to figure out one more thing while trying to survive this season of life. There also were TV rooms, gathering spaces, reading rooms, places where my friends could come visit, and where for a moment at a time I could almost feel like a normal teenager again. And then there were the people. I started meeting all the families my mom had told me about. And one family in particular instantly bonded with us. Their son had been born with a kidney disease and he needed a kidney transplant. And they had an 11-year-old daughter who absolutely stole my heart. She and I connected immediately. She was constantly sitting on my lap, hanging out with me, talking to me, like I was just another person. And honestly, she helped me feel normal again because she was one of the first people I met outside of the hospital who truly did not see my wheelchair. And at this point in my journey, I was still really struggling deeply with depression. And I was overwhelmed by what my future looked like, terrified, honestly. But being around all these families slowly started changing my perspective because I began realizing something important. There was always someone carrying a different kind of pain. And some of these families didn't even know if their loved one would still be alive tomorrow. And while my spinal cord injury was absolutely life-changing and devastating, I also began realizing that I still had a future in front of me. Now I didn't know what that future would look like. I didn't know what I would be able to do, what my independence would look like, but I was alive. And slowly, very slowly, being surrounded by these families helped shift my mindset. Really, for maybe the first time since my accident, I started noticing small things to be grateful for. And looking back now, I truly believe the Ron McDonald House and the people inside it changed not only that season of my life, but really the way I would view life forever. And while the Ron McDonald House became a place that brought perspective, healing, and incredible people into my life, it also became the place where one of the hardest heartbreaks of that time happened. As I mentioned in the last episode, Travis, my boyfriend, had been coming less and less. And deep down, I just think we both knew where things were headed. I kept telling my friends, I'm gonna confront him, I'm gonna break up with him. And even though honestly, I'd been I've been saying that for quite a while now, the fear of losing him stopped me every time. But this time it felt different. I was determined to say the words out loud, finally. And so one of our regular routines during that time was watching Monday night nitro together. Professional wrestling was huge back then. And every Monday, Travis would come down to Rochester and we'd watch it together. And on this particular night, I had already decided this was the night. And about 10 minutes before my caregiver was supposed to arrive for the evening, and again, it was a new caregiver who had never worked with me before. I looked over at Travis and I just paused, waited, and I forced myself to blurt it out. I said, We need to talk. Immediately he looked at me and he said, What do we need to talk about? And I said, us. And I remember looking at him and finally saying the words, I had been caring for months now. I just can't do this anymore. I know you're coming less and less. You touch me less and less. And I feel like we're just friends now, not really dating anymore. And I just think we need to break up. And immediately he started saying, No, no, no. I love you. I want to be with you. I don't want to break up. But I looked at him again and I just said, Travis, we both know that this is not going to work. And then out of his mouth came words that honestly still feel like a knife to my heart, even all these years later. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and he said, I was gonna wait until you got home. At first I was confused, like, wait until I got home for what? And then suddenly it hit me. He had already been planning to break up with me. He was just waiting until I got home to do it. I honestly cannot even fully describe the rejection and the heartbreak I felt in that moment. It wasn't just losing my boyfriend. It was the realization that while I had been desperately trying to hold on to hope for our future, somewhere along the way, he had already let go of it. And immediately my mind began spiraling. Who knew? Did people know he was planning to leave me? Had everybody had everyone been aware except for me? Meanwhile, we're both sitting there crying in the TV room while my poor mom is outside the window knocking because my caregiver had arrived for the evening. And she was trying to signal to me that I needed to wrap things up. And I remember thinking, um, hello, I'm currently going through a major life experience right now. She can wait. But eventually, Travis stood up to leave and started heading towards the elevator. And I had been trying so hard to stay strong through this entire conversation. Thought I was doing a pretty good job. But the moment those elevator doors started closing, I broke. I remember saying, don't go, begging him to stay. But he stood there and he let that elevator door close. And honestly, it felt so symbolic. That elevator door closing felt like the closing of an entire chapter of my life. Not just our relationship, but the closing of the future that I had pictured for myself. In that moment, it honestly felt like the closing of every dream I had ever had about getting married, having a relationship, or being loved romantically again. And the second those doors shut, I completely lost it. I was sobbing uncontrollably. And as I rolled back to our room at the Ron McDonald House, there was this African-American woman there who was my caregiver for the night. And she only really worked with me that one shift had to be God because it was pretty cool how I remember trying to explain through uncontrollable sobs what had just happened. And in the sweetest, funniest way, she looked at me and she's like, honey, you don't need no man. I got five babies and they all got different daddies and they're all worthless. You don't need no man. And honestly, even in the middle of my heartbreak, it was such comforting. I should say, it was comfort in such an unexpected way. But even though it was lighthearted for a moment, I was still devastated. Because the truth was, Travis had been one of my closest confidants through all of this. He had been there during the hardest moments of my life. And while I'm grateful he didn't leave immediately after my accident, part of me almost thinks I would have hurt less if he had. Because instead, I felt like I had been strung along for months, believing maybe love would somehow be enough to hold everything together. When deep down, he already knew it wasn't gonna work. But to his credit, he did keep his word in the beginning. He still came to visit me, even though it felt awkward that we were just friends. But when he wasn't around, I was definitely still grieving. I was still crying constantly. My friends were desperately trying to cheer me up. And I remember one of them introducing me to the song I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor. And honestly, at the time, it became my anthem. But underneath the humor and the encouragement, I was truly heartbroken. I felt rejected, unwanted. But life kept moving forward because prom was coming. And somehow Travis still wanted to take me. I wasn't sure what to do because I had other guy friends who would have loved to take me to prom, but he kept asking. And eventually I agreed. And as my time at the Raw McDonald house came to an end, I finally got to move back home to Ellsworth. Well, sort of. Because our new house still wasn't finished yet. So instead, I moved into my friend Jessie's house. Now Jessie's sister used a wheelchair. She was born with spinal muscular atrophy. So while their home definitely was not fully wheelchair accessible for my needs, it was manageable enough for me to stay there temporarily until our house was ready on May 1st. And we were so grateful for the cars. That was Jesse's last name, the cars' openness to share their home with us. Because at this point, Prom was only about a week away. And honestly, Jessie stepping in during this season meant more to me than I could ever fully explain. She had been there for me throughout everything. She visited constantly in the hospital, stayed overnight for movie nights, showed up over and over again. And what's interesting is that before my accident, Jesse and I really weren't that close anymore. We had been very close. Middle school. But as high school happens, people drift into different groups, you know, friend groups in different seasons of life. But during the hardest chapter of my life, she showed up for me in ways I never expected. And because I was staying with Jesse, I was also able to go back to school for about a week before prom and begin acclimating to life around my friends again. And I'll never forget my first day back at school. A guy friend of mine named RJ, he just walked right past me in the hallway without saying anything. I paused and I was like, looked at him and I'm like, hey, RJ, are you too good for me now? He stopped, he turned around, he looked at me and he said, I'm so sorry. I just didn't know what to say. And I remember saying to him, How about I? I'm the same person I used to be. I just don't walk anymore. And honestly, I think that moment broke the ice for so many people. Because the truth was, people didn't know what to say. They didn't know how to react, how to treat me. And I think in that moment, they realized I was still me. And that was really important for me to know that to share that with them. So now it was time for prom. Now I was gonna get dressed up, have my hair and makeup done, show myself publicly for the very first time after my accident in front of pretty much the entire town of Ellsworth. And honestly, that felt terrifying. There was also something that I was also really looking forward to. My friend Serena was gonna be there. As I shared in earlier episodes, Serena had been in a serious car accident just three days before my accident. And both her and I defied the odds. And she had miraculously survived a three-month coma that she slowly came out of. And I kept dibs on her all throughout my rehab and therapy while multiple friends of ours were going to both hospitals to visit us. I mean, we were like 100 miles away from each other, and our friends were seeing both of us. We had amazing friends. And while I had briefly seen her once at a coffee shop with some friends, we both moved home right around the same time that I had come back to live with Jesse. This would really be the first time we were truly together after both of our lives had changed so dramatically. And really seeing her in person was emotional in a completely different way. Because it was here that I really began understanding just how opposite our injuries truly were. My injury was paralysis from the chest down. Serena's injury was a traumatic brain injury. She had full use of her body, but her memory had been deeply impacted, especially her short-term memory. And what was fascinating was that she still remembered everybody's names and even nicknames. She knew who all of us were. But I remember asking her about memories we had shared together, like we went to a Metallica concert together, moments from basketball, and I could just see it in her eyes. This glossy look. You could tell she truly didn't remember. So many memories we had created together were simply gone for her. And it was heartbreaking in such a different way. But I was so excited to see her and all of my friends. And after getting ready for the day, Travis showed up at Jesse's for pictures. And honestly, the second he showed up, I regretted it. He just seemed so unenthusiastic. Now, I don't know exactly what was happening in his life at this time. And to his credit, I do think he was trying. But it was obvious something had changed. And deep down, I think both of us knew this even really wasn't even a friendship anymore, which made it harder because the year before, one year prior to this, Travis and I had gone to prom together and had the most amazing time. We were talking about moving in together after high school, getting married, spending the rest of our lives together, and now sitting there one year later, I just kept thinking about how much had changed in only 12 months, not only in my life, but in our relationship too. Still, I had tried so hard to make the best of the day. Our school had a Grand March where couples walked down an aisle to show off their dresses and tuxes before heading to prom festivities afterward. And I remember making a very intentional decision that night. For the Grand March, I used a manual wheelchair instead of my power wheelchair because I thought the power wheelchair looked too big and too bulky, really too disabling. So I thought the manual chair would look sleeker and less noticeable. But the reality was, I wasn't strong enough to push it myself. So the entire time I was completely dependent on other people moving me around. And as soon as we got to the evening location after the Grand March, I switched back into my power wheelchair so that I could move independently again, really be comfortable. Again, I was very uncomfortable in that manual wheelchair, but I wanted to look less disabled. Now, our class had rented out a local bar and grill for our prom festivities that evening, and it had a huge dance floor where everyone gathered for the rest of the night. And honestly, that night became one of the first times I fully realized that there would be parts of my old life that would never feel the same again. My friends kept trying to pull me out on the dance floor, trying to help me have fun, and I was trying so hard to match their energy, trying to smile, trying to be okay. But internally, I was completely overwhelmed by how different my life now was from theirs. I remember sitting there watching everyone dance and just feeling this ache in my chest. I wanted to break down crying so badly. And I was trying with everything in me to not cry in front of everybody because I knew if I started crying, I would not be able to stop. And I didn't want to ruin the night for everybody around me. And even dinner that night was difficult. Travis had to feed me my food because the apparatuses that I used in the hospital were not working as well when I moved home. So I was having challenges feeding myself, and I remember feeling embarrassed and frustrated and angry all at the same time. I just wanted to scream. And yet, there were some beautiful moments too that evening. I mean, one of my favorite moments of the night was seeing my friend Jesse crowned prom queen. And her boyfriend was Jack was crowned prom king. And honestly, nobody had deserved it more. Jessie had been such a light in my life during one of my darkest seasons. But by the end of the evening, I remember just looking forward to going to the post-prom party, having a few drinks, because I thought it would maybe help loosen me up emotionally and stop thinking so hard about everything. And while parts of the day and the night were genuinely fun, getting dressed up, having my hair, nails, and makeup done, and for a few moments feeling human again. Overall, prom felt more like a huge step back emotionally because it forced me to fully see how different my life was now from my friends. They were still living normal teenage lives, and mine had completely changed. And at the end of the night, when Travis was leaving, he was dropping me off at Jesse's. I looked at him and I said, Well, it was nice knowing you. Deep down, I knew I'd probably never see or talk to him again. And he responded, No, stop it! I'll stop over in a couple weeks. Welcome see you. But my instincts were right. That really, really was the end of our relationship. And while that season was incredibly hard, incredibly painful, I will forever be grateful for Jessie and her family. They brought so much comfort into my life, into my family's life during such a difficult transition. Because staying at their home allowed me to start going back to school for one hour each day. Thankfully, I had always been a really good student. So when I had my accident, I really only needed three and a half more credits to graduate. So instead of returning full time, I needed only to attend one class period each day, which is about 90 minutes. Now I do have to mention that while I was in Rochester, I did do some tutoring, but it was more just to get me back and acclimated in learning. But now that I was back to school, I honestly thought it wouldn't help me feel normal again. And I was really grateful for the schedule because it allowed me to sleep in because mornings were still extremely difficult physically, but it was also slowly helped me to reconnect with my friends and begin figuring out how to exist in this new version of my life. And at the same time, it was decided that every Wednesday I would still travel back to Rochester for occupational and physical therapy with Barb and Neil. And honestly, during those outpatient sessions, I feel like I was finally starting to make just so much more meaningful progress because now I knew what I actually wanted and what I needed to learn for real life outside of the hospital. Things like how to put my sunglasses on and off by myself, how to manage different terrains besides smooth hospital floors and sidewalks, how to dial the phone to call people, how to turn pages in my textbooks at school. I was beginning to understand what independence would actually look like in everyday life. And through all of this, oh, my friends continue to be incredibly supportive. I mean, there are honestly too many people to name, but friends like Holly, Jesse, Stevie, and so many others kept showing up for me over and over again. And even though I rarely told them what I was truly feeling internally, I knew they were there. And while all of this was happening, my parents somehow still had a million other things happening too. Because not only were they finishing our house, they were also preparing to break ground on a brand new grocery store. That project had originally been planned before my accident happened. But after the accident, they postponed it about six months because obviously our life had completely exploded. But now construction was beginning. So as if our family didn't already have enough happening, my parents were now building both a fully wheelchair accessible home and a brand new grocery store at the exact same time. But officially, before we officially moved into the new house, there was one final thing that I needed to do. I needed to say goodbye to my old house, the home I had grown up in. So one night before the move, my family brought me over to our old house and they carried me upstairs to my old bedroom. Now there were probably 20, 25 steps leading up to it. Absolutely no accessible way for me to get there anymore. But they carried me up anyway, and they laid me in my bed, and after doing a few cares, I drifted off to sleep, looking at all of my posters, my dresser drawers, my closet, and all the things that were stored in my room. And honestly, I was overwhelmed with emotion, sadness, grief, nostalgia, because I knew I would never come back to this room again. I would never live in this house again, never fully return to the life I had before the accident. But I was so grateful for that one final night in my bed. I think it was the best night of sleep I had since my accident. Because it was one final moment of closure, a chance to say goodbye before heading into an entirely new version of my life. And then finally, May 1st arrived. An incredible builder from Ellsworth named Al Hines, along with his entire team, had essentially stopped the projects they were working on in order to prioritize finishing our home. And unbelievably, the house was built under 90 days. But what made it even more emotional was how much thought and care had gone into every single detail. My parents had visited multiple wheelchair accessible homes beforehand, trying to gather ideas because they wanted to create a space where I could be as independent as possible. The house had wide doorways everywhere, so I could easily turn around in my wheelchair. There was a roll-in shower, a fireplace to help keep me warm because my body was still struggling regulating temperature after my injury. The donated hospital bed was there. The shower chair that I desperately needed was there. Everything had been intentionally designed around helping me live my new life. And I was so unbelievably grateful. Not only for the house itself, as I was now seeing that the home I grew up in would not work for my situation. And I was so glad that my mom had made the decision to build this new home. But I was grateful for the sacrifices that my parents were making, both financially, emotionally, physically, to make all of it happen while managing enormous medical bills and everything else life was throwing at us. Now, I'll share more about this in future episodes, but my brother and my sister were making huge sacrifices too. And even though there were people in town who lived in this area who had heard about my story, I feel they had quietly written me off. People who assumed my life was basically over. Deep down, I always knew something incredibly important. I was loved. I had people surrounding me who cared deeply about me and wanted to see me succeed. And during some of the darkest, hardest days of my life, that support system carried me. Because no matter how hard things became, I always knew that I would never be alone. Thank you so much for joining me today and for continuing to be a part of this journey with me. Next time in episode nine, I'm going to take you into what life began looking like as I adjusted to our new house, learned new routines, daily life from a wheelchair, continued finishing up school, I attended wheelchair camp, and ultimately prepared for high school graduation. And so before you go, again, if this podcast has encouraged you, I in some way, I would love for you to subscribe, leave a review, and share it with someone you know who may need a little hope and encouragement in their own life because there are so many people facing so many challenges right now that really um I feel like this can be really encouraging for them. So my hope is that through sharing my story, people are reminded that even in life's hardest moments, resilience is possible. So thanks again for listening to Resilience with Tasha Shu.