“There is a space between stimulus and response. In that space is our ability to choose our response.” ~Viktor Frankl
For a long time, my first response to adversity was a single, painful question: “Why me?”
It was revealed whenever life took an unexpected turn – when plans fell apart, when efforts did not materialize, when circumstances seemed unfair and overwhelming. I would have believed if I could have understood why Something was happening, I would somehow fix the situation and regain control. That answer will soften the blow.
But it never happened.
One experience, in particular, changed my relationship to that question.
I remember one such episode very clearly.
In 2004, I had just started my interior design practice. Work was growing, projects were active, and life—though busy—was feeling rewarding. Then one morning I woke up with dizziness, a pounding headache and a brief blackout. I dismissed it as fatigue. But the symptoms persisted.
After several tests, I was diagnosed with a condition called BIH – a neurological disorder characterized by high pressure in the brain, which compresses the optic nerve. If left untreated, it can cause permanent blindness. I needed immediate hospitalization and complete rest.
I was admitted for ten days of treatment and then six months of steroids. At a time when my career was just starting, I was asked to stop. I had active projects, new clients, responsibilities that I simply could not abandon.
One day in the hospital, overwhelmed and angry, I found myself shouting the familiar question: “God, why me?”
I tried to find the answer. Actually I was quite desperate. I turned to ideas like karma and talked to a few therapists and healers, hoping they would offer some perspective or comfort. Instead, they added more layers of questions. One explanation led to another. What lesson was I supposed to learn? What have I done to deserve this? Instead of helping, the search for money only makes things feel heavier and more complicated.
What I didn’t understand then was “Why me?” Wasn’t helping me cope; On the contrary, it was holding me back. It drew my attention back to comparison and quiet resentment, and kept me waiting for answers that never came.
One evening, as I lay in my hospital bed, exhausted from overthinking, watching the sunset from my room window, something changed. I felt the fog lift around me, and another question quietly surfaced: What now?
This question changed everything. It didn’t erase my fear or frustration, but it gave me something solid to hold on to. I allowed myself to feel what I felt—scared, helpless, frustrated—and then I honestly assessed the situation and began to take action.
I called my clients and explained the reality. I coordinated remotely, asked my assistant and the contractor to meet me at the hospital to clear the details and ensure the work went ahead without putting my health at risk. I rested, focused on healing, and accepted that I had to go through this situation, not fight.
It was “my first real experience of its powerWhat now?”
Over the years, I have returned to that question many times. Whenever life feels stagnant or overwhelming, it brings me back to the only place where anything can actually be done – the present moment.
“What now?” Doesn’t ask for grand plans or perfect clarity. It asks for honesty. It asks what the next correct step is, given the energy and resources available today. Some days, that move is practical. Some days, it’s emotional. And some days, it’s simply choosing not to add more fear to an already difficult situation.
I learned that acceptance is often misunderstood. This is not resignation. It is not given up. It is admitted that the reality is nothing but a waste of energy in war. Movement is possible from that place.
For years“What now?” Became a grounding exercise rather than a solution. On hard days, it helped me be present without denying how hard things were. On good days, it reminds me to act gently and deliberately rather than waiting for confirmation.
Asking “now what?” Taught me:
- I don’t need answers to start moving forward.
- Small, honest steps are more important than perfect clarity.
- Acceptance creates room for choice, not passivity.
- Being present is often enough.
I still catch myself asking, “why me“When life feels unfair or exhausting. But now I recognize it as a signal—not as something that should consume me. A sign that I’m tired, hurting, or in need of sympathy. When that happens, I don’t argue with the question. I gently accept.
And then I return to a question that has helped me move forward again and again.
“What now?“
I may not have all the answers. But I’ve learned that I don’t need them to live meaningfully. When life presents questions I can’t solve, it’s enough to answer what I can.
Sometimes, that’s all we really need.
about Aruna Joshi
Aruna Joshi is an author of four books, a mental wellness advocate, and the voice behind Jane Whispers, a blog for deeply feeling souls who crave gentleness, truth, and clarity. Through personal stories and soft reflections, she helps readers feel less alone in their inner struggles. You can find him thezenwhispers.substack.com.
