10 Things I Know to Be Absolutely Certain
By Kathryn M. Bowman Johnson

We live in a world that shifts constantly—bodies, relationships, calendars, expectations. Some mornings I wake up uncertain of what my spine will allow or what emotional weather the day might bring. But even amid the instability, I’ve discovered that some truths have taken root in me. Things I carry with me on the good days and the hard ones. Things I know for sure.

So today, I’m sharing ten of them.

1. Love leaves a mark.
   Not just in grief, but in the quiet spaces where memory lingers. In soft chairs and humming children. In the way we keep showing up.
2. Pain is real—and so is joy.
   Chronic illness teaches you to hold both at once. A single day can ache and still offer beauty.
3. Children know more than we think.
   My grandson has taught me this again and again. They may not have the words yet, but they feel everything. They remember love, even if they don’t say it.
4. Grief doesn’t end, but it evolves.
   It shifts from sharp to tender, from unbearable to something you carry forward. It makes room—if we let it.
5. Rest is not a luxury.
   For those of us living with illness, rest is the very foundation. And it’s not something to apologize for.
6. Storytelling heals.
   Writing has saved me more times than I can count. When I couldn’t find myself in the mirror, I found myself on the page.
7. There is strength in asking for help.
   And there’s power in receiving it, too. I used to think I had to be the strong one. Now I know strength looks different than I thought.
8. We don’t outgrow wonder.
   Black-eyed Susans blooming by the mailbox. A child’s giggle behind a closed door. Even now, awe still arrives.
9. Small things are not small.
   A held door. A soft blanket. A cup of tea when the world feels heavy. These are the things that matter.
10. We are still becoming.
    No matter our age, our diagnoses, our losses. We are allowed to keep growing, to keep unfolding. Even from the recliner. Even in stillness.

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I’d love to hear what you know for certain. What truths are anchoring you right now? Leave a comment, or write your own list. Some days, naming what’s real is the most radical kind of hope.

Until next time,
Kathryn

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