Being Stronger Than Yesterday

 There’s a crack in my bathroom mirror that I see every morning. It happened years ago when I dropped my phone in a moment of complete exhaustion, too tired to even hold onto the things in my hands. I could have replaced the mirror by now, but I haven’t. That crack has become something else entirely—a reminder of where I was, and how far I’ve come since then.

Three months ago, I was drowning. Not in water, but in the kind of setback that makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself. I’d lost a relationship that had ended badly, and my father’s health was declining 3 years ago. It felt like the universe had decided to test exactly how much one person could handle before breaking completely.

Spoiler alert: Depression.

But here’s what nobody tells you about breaking—it’s not actually the end of the story. It’s just a really uncomfortable middle chapter.

The Day I Stopped Comparing

For weeks, I tortured myself by scrolling through old photos, old accomplishments, old versions of myself that seemed impossibly put-together. I kept thinking, “I used to be so strong. I used to have it all figured out.” I was measuring my present self against my past highlight reel, and unsurprisingly, I was coming up short every single time.

Then one morning, staring at that cracked mirror, something shifted. I realized I was asking myself the wrong question. The question wasn’t “Am I as strong as I used to be?” The question was “Am I stronger than I was yesterday?”

Yesterday, I hadn’t gotten out of bed until noon. Or just running around in pjs. I was up at nine. That was progress.

Yesterday, I’d eaten pre made meals for dinner, I’d made scrambled eggs at an actual table. That was progress too.

It sounds almost embarrassingly small when I write it out like that. But those small things? They were everything.

The 1% Rule

I stumbled across this idea somewhere online—the concept that if you get just 1% better each day, you’ll be 37 times better by the end of the year. The math made sense, but more than that, the philosophy made sense. I didn’t need to wake up tomorrow as the person I was before everything fell apart. I just needed to wake up slightly better than I was today.

So I started tracking tiny wins. Did I shower today? Did I respond to that text message I’d been avoiding? Did I take a walk around the block instead of spending another entire day indoors? Each small victory went into a note on my phone. Some days, the list had five items. Some days, it had one. But there was always something.

The funny thing about momentum is that it builds on itself. Those morning scrambled eggs turned into meal prepping on Sundays. That walk around the block became a daily 30-minute routine. Responding to one text message led to actually reaching out to friends I’d been hiding from.

The Setbacks Within the Comeback

Let me be clear: this wasn’t some linear journey of constant improvement. I had days where I slid backward. Days where the weight of everything felt just as heavy as it did in the beginning. Days where I cancelled plans, ignored responsibilities, and retreated back into myself.

But even on those days, I learned something important: relapse isn’t erasure. Having a bad day doesn’t delete all the good days that came before it. It’s just part of the process of becoming stronger, more resilient, more human.

I remember one particularly rough day when I couldn’t get out of bed before 12PM. I felt like a failure, like I’d undone all my progress. But then I did something different than I would have done a month earlier—I forgave myself. I acknowledged that grief and healing aren’t linear, made myself some tea, and decided that for that day, simply being gentle with myself was enough. That was its own kind of strength.

What “Stronger” Really Means

I used to think being strong meant never falling apart, never asking for help, never showing weakness. Now I know that’s not strength—that’s just armor. Real strength is falling apart and choosing to put yourself back together anyway. Real strength is asking for help when you need it. Real strength is showing up for yourself even when you don’t feel like it.

I’m writing this now from a different place than where I started. I have life coaching that I actually enjoy. My relationship with my father has deepened in ways I didn’t expect through his illness. I’ve learned to be alone without being lonely. I’m not the same person I was before everything fell apart, and honestly, I don’t want to be.

That person was strong, sure. But they’d never been tested. They’d never had to rebuild themselves from scratch. They’d never learned what they were truly capable of surviving.

The Crack Remains

I still haven’t fixed that mirror. These days, when I see the crack, I don’t see a symbol of my breaking point. I see a map of where I’ve been and proof that broken things can still be beautiful, still be functional, still serve their purpose.

Being stronger than yesterday doesn’t mean forgetting who you were or erasing what happened. It means carrying it all with you—the pain, the lessons, the scars—and choosing to move forward anyway. Not because you have to, but because you can.

Today, I am stronger than I was yesterday. Tomorrow, I’ll aim to be stronger than I am today. And if I’m not, if I stumble or fall or break a little more, that’s okay too. Because the next day, I’ll try again.

That’s all any of us can do. And somehow, it’s enough.