I gaze at my little olive tree and sometimes say out loud, “Life has bent me, but I cannot let it stop me from growing.” She sits on the windowsill in my office, close to my chair, where I can see her throughout the day. Each morning I stroke her leaves and tell her, “You bring me calm and joy. You are loved.”

When I ordered her over the phone and she arrived at my condo in the sky, she was rather scrawny. I worried she might not survive. Instead, almost immediately, tiny shoots began appearing along her bare trunk, followed by new leaves at the top of her branches. She began reaching upward, and I found myself delighted by every sign of growth.

I realize now that I have been watching more than an olive tree grow. I have been watching a little reflection of myself. Life has bent me in ways I could never have imagined, particularly as I watch my beloved Ultimate Concierge live through vascular dementia. Yet somehow, like my little tree, I continue trying to grow. Perhaps that is what learning how to keep moving forward really looks like.

How to Keep Moving Forward

This morning, my assistant Elena came into my office and said something that stopped me. “I know your life isn’t easy. I admire you because you always push yourself to move forward.” Suddenly, I had one of my aha moments. Why had I never put two and two together? I had not noticed what she saw because sadness has become such a constant companion.

I am perpetually sad, and for good reason. Sadness does not allow me to fully enjoy much of what I do. It can be debilitating and sometimes feels like physical inertia. I have to force myself into motion. Through this experience, I understand more deeply how people of every age must feel when an overwhelming problem enters their lives and makes the simplest task seem enormous.

Yet Elena made me realize something important: I continue to move. Darling, I make myself flow even when it is incredibly difficult. I do not always do it gracefully, happily, or enthusiastically, but I do it. I am living with grief and sadness every day, yet I continue participating in my life. Until today, I did not realize how much courage that requires.

My Olive Tree Has Become My Teacher

My life is hard right now. Grief follows me quietly from morning until night, and ordinary tasks that once required no thought can demand an enormous amount of mental effort. I cannot pretend otherwise, and I do not believe pretending serves any of us.

Whether I have to run to the bank, return an item, take shoes to the shoemaker, attend a doctor’s appointment, choose an outfit from my wardrobe, have a facial or mani-pedi, get my hair done, play mahjong, fly to New York for a ZOA Gala, or meet my family for a loving dinner, I have to push myself into motion. Even making a simple phone call can feel like work.

But here is the good part of the equation: I do it. That realization brought me back to my olive tree. She has become a teacher sitting quietly beside me, reminding me that how to keep moving forward is not always about feeling strong. Sometimes it is simply about continuing to participate.

What the Olive Tree Knows About Adversity

I have always admired the olive tree. There is something magnificent about her strength. Her trunk becomes gnarled and twisted after years of exposure to the elements. Her roots reach deep into the earth while her branches withstand fierce winds, scorching heat, drought, and cold. Some olive trees have lived for hundreds of years through storms, wars, and changing seasons.

She does not ask the weather to be kind. She does not surrender because one season is difficult. Instead, she remains rooted. She bends when she has to, rests when she needs to, and continues to grow when conditions allow.

That is what I wish for you and for myself. I have learned that it takes extraordinary strength to continue living fully when your heart and mind are heavy. My olive tree reminds me that strength is not avoiding adversity. Strength is learning how to remain rooted while it passes through your life.

I Flow Even When My Heart Is Heavy

Things that once came naturally now take a concerted effort. I do not wake up happy. I do not move through my days with a light heart, and I cannot manufacture joy while sadness sits on my shoulders. But today I realized that I give myself an important gift: I make myself flow.

I make the call. I put on my red lipstick every morning. I get dressed. I take care of business. I keep my appointments. I set up my mahjong set. I reach out to friends and family, travel when I need to, and remain engaged with the world around me as best I can. I do these things not because I am a happy camper right now, but because I refuse to allow sadness to make every decision for me.

That distinction matters. I do not wait until happiness arrives before I get out of bed or pick up the phone. I push myself to do what once came naturally. Darling, sometimes how to keep moving forward is exactly that simple and exactly that difficult: you take the next action even when your heart is not in it.

Women of Every Age Have Difficult Seasons

Women have the same capacity as the olive tree. At twenty-five, a woman may be trying to establish herself in a career while navigating relationships or motherhood. At forty-five, she may be carrying the weight of teenagers, aging parents, financial responsibilities, and a demanding career. At sixty-five, she may be entering a chapter she never anticipated. At eighty-five, loneliness, loss, and physical changes may become part of her landscape.

Every season asks something different of us. Life will bring circumstances that disappoint us, frighten us, break our hearts, change our plans, and leave us wondering how we will ever find our footing again. No woman escapes difficult weather.

What we can learn is not to wait for enthusiasm before taking action. Your goal does not have to be feeling wonderful every day. Sometimes the goal is simply feeling proud that you participated in your own life. Flow, Darling, even when moving forward requires more effort than anyone around you realizes.

Resting Is Not the Same as Giving Up

I also want to make an important distinction. Do not confuse stillness or rest with surrender. There are times when a woman needs to stop, sleep, think, recover, and protect her energy. Resting is not ebbing away from life.

My olive tree understands this better than I do. She has periods of dormancy. She does not produce olives every day or bloom during every season. Nature understands that growth requires rest as well as movement.

We should give ourselves the same permission. Learning how to keep moving forward does not mean pushing until you collapse. It means knowing when to move and when to replenish yourself so that you have enough strength for the next step. Rest should help you return to life, not disappear from it.

Giving Back Still Comes Naturally to Me

Interestingly, one thing in my life takes very little effort: giving back to others. Even when I am sad, caring for someone else comes naturally to me. Perhaps that is another reason I identify with the olive tree.

An olive tree gives in so many ways. Its trunk can become part of a home or a beautiful object. Its branches provide shade. Its fruit becomes food, and its olives become oil that nourishes people generation after generation. Even after enduring difficult seasons, the tree continues to offer something of itself.

I understand that instinct. Giving to others remains one of the ways I stay connected to life, but I am also learning that I cannot give everything away. Like the olive tree, I need roots, nourishment, quiet, and care of my own if I am going to continue giving.

The Difference Between Flowing and Ebbing

Today I realized that I flow, even though I often feel as though I am standing still. To ebb, in the way I think about it, is to retreat so completely that sadness begins making your choices. It is allowing the tide of grief to pull you farther and farther away from your own life.

To flow is different. Flowing does not mean you are carefree or joyful. It means you keep moving through the current, even when it is difficult and even when your heart is not fully cooperating. You continue showing up in whatever way you are capable of that day.

I am not telling you this is easy. This is the most difficult journey of my life. Yet I believe women of every age need to understand that we cannot always control what happens to us, but we can work on how we meet each day. My olive tree does not demand perfect weather before it grows. We should not demand perfect circumstances before we participate in our lives.

My Strength Is an Action, Not a Feeling

I have discovered that strength does not always feel triumphant. Mine certainly does not. Strength can feel like dragging yourself out of bed, putting on your red lipstick, and answering the phone when you would rather pull the covers over your head.

My strength is action. It makes me attend the appointment, make the call, meet the friend, sit down at the mahjong table, take care of my responsibilities, and continue engaging with the people I love. None of these actions erase my grief, but they prevent grief from becoming the only thing that defines my days.

Until Elena spoke to me this morning, I had not realized that every difficult day contains evidence that I have not given up on myself. I do not confuse flowing with happiness. I know the difference now. I can be profoundly sad and still move forward.

 I Am Writing This From Inside the Storm

I am grief-stricken watching my beloved Ultimate Concierge, my lion of a man, move through the stages of vascular dementia. I am not the woman I was before this chapter began. I am sadder, certainly, but I also know I have become wiser and stronger.

Every journey that tests our courage leaves us a notch wiser. I would never have chosen this lesson or this passage, but here I am, living it. And because I am living it, I have to decide each morning whether I will allow the storm to stop me completely or whether I will find one small way to participate in life.

Perhaps that is why my little olive tree means so much to me now. She is not beautiful because she has lived an easy life. She is beautiful because she keeps producing new growth after being bent by conditions she cannot control. I recognize myself in that.

Keep Growing Like the Olive Tree

This is my olive tree lesson: do not wait for every storm to pass before you grow. Put down deeper roots. Rest when you need to. Bend when life requires it. Protect yourself when the weather becomes harsh, but do not abandon your life while you wait for perfect conditions.

You may not feel courageous while you are doing it. I often do not. Courage may simply look like movement when everything inside you wants to stop. Growth can be quiet, invisible, and painfully slow, but that does not mean it is not happening.

The power of this story is that I am not preaching strength from a mountaintop. I am writing to you from inside the storm. My little olive tree is still beside me, putting out new leaves, and I am still beside her, learning how to do the same. Amen.