Last week’s election result stirred up a range of emotions, and however you're feeling right now is valid. For some, a setback can bring renewed motivation - a chance to reflect on what matters most, evaluate personal values, and consider the people and causes we choose to support. For others, the weight of disappointment can feel crushingly discouraging, making it hard to see a way forward. 

When it comes to creating change in the world, there are countless obstacles. Some of these challenges, though difficult, are ultimately solvable. Passing legislation to address a harmful policy, restructuring a team to better leverage everyone’s strengths, or meeting an ambitious fundraising goal  - all are demanding and non-linear paths, but they’re within reach with effort and dedication.

We all know how opposites work: up vs. down, awake vs. asleep, left vs right. We solve simple problems all day, every day by leaning into opposites:

• Opening a closed door to let the air in

• Tidying an untidy room to declutter our space

• Turning a blasting TV off to reduce the noise

But sometimes in life - and in social change - there is incredible power in what I have come to think of as unexpected opposites: a contrasting thing or idea that is unconventional or surprising in some way.

Phew, life can be a rollercoaster, can’t it? Between navigating personal challenges, managing work stress, and just trying to keep it all together, it’s easy to feel like you’re one twist away from throwing your hands up. I heard recently that one of the most vital skills we can develop as we grow older is resilience - and I got kind of obsessed with the idea. For a while, I put pressure on myself to never feel a thing. To let things bounce off me like Teflon.  

But here’s the thing: resilience isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about finding new ways to move forward, even when the ride gets bumpy.

I wrote and published this blog post when I first became CEO of Javelina in 2017. It is just as personal and relevant today, though I’ve certainly changed a lot since I wrote this. In the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing an update on Catherine the Good Girl, and how I’ve reclaimed the reins of control from her hands. 

I am eight, maybe nine, sitting in the back seat of the car with my younger brother. My nana and my mum are in the front. Alex and I are squabbling about something insignificant. Nana twists in her seat and says sharply: “Catherine, if you fight with your brother, he won’t talk to you when you’re older. Be quiet. Be good.”