Falling Down and Getting Up Again 6/12

Seven years ago, I returned from the Amazon jungle, my soul alight with clarity after an ayahuasca ceremony that unraveled the knots of my past—divorce, addiction, a criminal lifestyle, and spiritual bankruptcy. I’d left the UK and 10 years of life behind, chasing an inner calling sparked by a documentary, and the jungle had given me a new lens: my pain was human, and transformation was possible. I was ready to rebuild. But life, as it often does, had other plans.

When I landed in Miami, I believed I was on the verge of a fresh start. But the universe had different ideas. Three months later, I found myself staring at a clock tower outside the window of my Lithuanian apartment, feeling more lost than ever. The catalyst wasn’t a professional setback, but something far more personal—a rejection from my own family. My aunt, unable to accept my truth, turned me away. Homeless and alone in Miami, I made the uncomfortable decision to return to Lithuania, knowing it would force me to face myself in the rawest, most unfiltered way.

That rejection wasn’t just a temporary setback; it felt like a verdict on my very worth. It triggered something much deeper—a lifelong ache of never being enough. I remembered how I could never connect with my real father, always feeling like I had to prove myself, to be better, just to be worthy of love. The rejection from my aunt rekindled those old wounds, prompting me to doubt my acceptance and my ability to truly belong.

In that state, the temptation to slip back into old habits and addictions was strong. This is the story of how I fell, and how I learned to get up again.

I’d poured everything into my healing, into trying to build a new life. However, the pain of losing family is more profound than any other form of loss. The pain wasn’t just about being homeless or alone—it was about feeling fundamentally unlovable, as if no matter how much I changed or how hard I tried, I would always be on the outside looking in.

But something was different this time. The jungle had taught me to face the unknown, and this rejection was just another kind of wilderness. I started small: journaling my disappointment, letting the pain spill onto the page. I reached out to a friend who understood what it meant to feel unwanted, and she reminded me that my worth isn’t defined by anyone else’s acceptance. I slowly realized that this painful rejection didn't have to end my story. It could be the beginning of a new chapter—one where I learned to accept myself, even when others could not.

The journey was never about proving I was enough for someone else. It was about discovering that I am enough for myself.

The Psychology of Resilience

Setbacks, like that rejection, are inevitable, but they don’t have to break us. Carol Dweck’s research as a psychologist on “growth mindset” offers a powerful lens here. In her book Mindset, Dweck explains that people with a growth mindset see challenges as opportunities to learn, not as proof of failure. They believe abilities can be developed through effort, which fuels resilience. A 2016 study in Psychological Science backs this up, showing that individuals with a growth mindset recover faster from setbacks because they focus on what they can control—effort, learning, and adaptation—rather than dwelling on what went wrong.

For me, that rejection was a test of mindset. My old, fixed mindset told me I’d failed because I wasn’t “talented enough.” But the growth mindset I’d begun cultivating in the Amazon—through facing my past and embracing uncertainty—urged me to see the rejection as feedback. It wasn’t easy. Shame and self-doubt are heavy; they are always around the corner, especially when you’ve clawed your way out of addiction and loss. Yet, each small action—writing one more page, sending one more query—reinforced my belief that I could grow through the pain. Resilience, I learned, isn’t about never falling; it’s about choosing to stand up, again and again no matter how many times you fail—you get up one more.

This ties to another psychological concept: “post-traumatic growth.” Research by Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun suggests that adversity, when processed with intention, can lead to profound personal growth—new strengths, more profound relationships, or a clearer sense of purpose. My setback wasn’t just a hurdle; it was a chance to refine my story and my resolve, shaping both me and my book.

Actionable Steps: Turn Setbacks Into Stepping Stones

You don't have to face rejection from your family to understand the pain of a setback. Whether it’s a missed chance to connect, a personal failure, or a dream put on hold, we all know what it’s like to fall short. What matters is how we get up again. Here’s a simple roadmap for turning setbacks into stepping stones:

1. Name the Pain: Start by writing down exactly how the setback feels—anger, shame, fear, or disappointment. Research shows that naming our emotions (see Emotion, 2007) actually reduces their intensity and helps us process them.

2. Find One Lesson: Reflect on what happened. What can you learn from this experience? Sometimes rejection points to a skill you can strengthen or a new direction to explore. Write down just one takeaway.

3. Take a Small Action: Do one thing, however small, to move forward—a revision, a conversation, or a new plan. Small steps rebuild momentum and self-efficacy, that crucial belief in your ability to act.

4. Lean on Others: Share your setback with a trusted friend or mentor. Social support, as highlighted in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (2015), boosts resilience by reminding you that you’re not alone.

These steps aren’t magic, but they are a proven roadmap to resilience—turning every fall into a foundation for growth.

A Glimpse Into My Book

The rejection I faced wasn’t just a moment—it’s a thread in the complex web of my book. The setbacks, the doubts, and the quiet victories that followed shaped its narrative, making it not just a story of survival but of stubborn hope. As I count down to the launch, I’m excited to share how these moments of falling and rising wove themselves into the pages. Keep following along—you’ll see more of this journey unfold in the weeks ahead.

Final Thoughts

Falling down hurts, but it’s not the end. That rejection could’ve sent me back to the darkness I’d known—addiction, despair—but instead, it taught me that resilience is a choice. The Amazon gave me the courage to face the unknown; all setbacks along the way showed me how to keep going when the path gets rough. Wherever you are, if you’ve stumbled, know this: the next step you take, however small, is proof you’re still in the fight. Keep going.

What’s a setback you’ve faced, and what’s one step you can take to rise again? Share in the comments or on X—I’d love to cheer you on!

This post is part of a 12-week series chronicling my journey from darkness to completing my book. Follow along every Monday for new stories, insights, and tips to inspire your own path. Want to stay updated on the book launch? Join my newsletter at themorph88.com or follow me on X @TheMorph88.