Resilience and Compassion: Wisdom from My PTA Professors

 Tess's office was as warm and inviting as ever, the smell of lavender blending with the faint coffee aroma that trailed in with her husband, Michael. The Phillips sat across from me, their shared energy both calming and inspiring. It was a rare moment to hear them speak together, reflecting on a time in their lives when everything seemed to unravel. For the past year, they had been more than just my Physical Therapy Assistant professors—they had been my mentors.

"It was 2018," Tess began, her voice soft yet steady. "I was diagnosed with a condition that required brain surgery almost immediately. It turned our world upside down. I couldn't work for a long time afterward, and that put a financial strain on us. On top of that, I couldn't do basic things—tie my shoes, lift my kids. I had to rely on Michael, on family, on anyone who could help. And asking for help? That was never easy for me."

Michael nodded, his brow furrowing as if reliving the memory. "That year hit us hard. By the end of it, I needed shoulder surgery. I was out of work for three months. Not being able to handle patients safely was tough enough, but the financial and emotional pressure was... suffocating. I let it pile up. I was stressed, depressed, anxious, and instead of dealing with it, I just... didn't." His words lingered in the air, the weight of them palpable.

The two exchanged a glance, one filled with understanding. Tess picked up the thread, her tone now one of quiet strength. "That year taught us so much. I had to learn to slow down, to rest, to prioritize my health and well-being. It wasn't easy watching life go on around me and knowing I couldn't jump in. But I realized that taking care of myself wasn't selfish—it was necessary."

Michael added, his voice a shade softer, "It made me see what really matters. Work isn't everything. I'm replaceable at work, but at home? With my family? That's where I'm needed most. I learned to live in the moment, to stop bottling things up, and to start talking—whether with Tracie or others—about the things weighing me down."

When I asked how this shaped their careers, they answered almost in unison, their voices harmonizing as they shared their journey into education.

"After that year, I knew I needed a change," Tess said. "I stepped away from a consuming job and became a professor. It's given me the chance to educate not just about physical therapy, but about life—balance, well-being, and asking for help."

Michael leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. "For me, it was about giving back. I've been where so many students are—overwhelmed, stressed, unsure of the future. Education has let me connect with them, support them, and share what I've learned from my struggles. It's the most rewarding work I've ever done."

Their stories intertwined seamlessly, each adding depth to the other. "We've both become more resilient," Michael reflected, his eyes meeting mine. "But it's not about muscling through on your own. Resiliency, I've learned, is about leaning on others, working as a team. Talk-therapy, vulnerability—it all helps you navigate life's challenges."

As the conversation turned to me, their warmth and care became even more apparent. "Charlie," Tess said, her expression earnest, "you remind me of myself—always putting others first, always trying to handle everything on your own. But you have to remember, it's okay to ask for help. It's not a sign of weakness; it's strength."

Michael nodded in agreement, his voice carrying a tone of quiet reassurance. "I hope you know you’ll always have us in your corner. My door is always open. Whether you need advice, a sounding board, or just someone to listen, we're here."

Their words lingered in my mind as I left their office, resonating deeply. The Phillips didn't just teach lessons—they embodied them, transforming their struggles into strengths and sharing those hard-earned insights with others, including me. Over the past two years, their care and compassion have been unwavering, shaping not only my education but also my growth as a person.