Today, my husband was in a bad car accident.
Thanks to modern vehicles and sheer luck, he’s okay. The man who hit him is okay too. There are injuries, but nothing life-threatening. We are fortunate—and I don’t use that word lightly.
This can happen to anyone. No one is immune.
A few months ago I went out to lunch with a new friend. Within two weeks of meeting her, her husband became gravely ill. For the past two months, she’s been shuttling him from doctor to doctor, trying to solve a terrifying mystery. He can’t breathe properly, but it’s not his heart. It’s not his lungs. No one knows why.
And while the crisis drags on, life doesn’t pause.
Work still needs to be done. Food still needs to be bought. Bills still need to be paid. The mundane mechanics of life keep grinding forward, even when everything feels fragile.
When my husband called me from the accident scene, I went into what I call “what’s next mode.”
What needs to be done right now?
What information needs to be gathered?
Who needs to be called?
What needs to happen tomorrow?
Doctor visits. Insurance claims. Lawyers. Logistics.
I didn’t panic. I didn’t freeze. I did what needed to be done. I took care of my husband. Then I cooked dinner. I folded laundry.
And then I started shaking.
Because once the immediate needs were met, reality caught up with me.
He could have died today.
The other man could have died today.
We aren’t guaranteed anything.
How Humanism Helps Me Cope
As a Humanist, I find that confronting this reality—honestly and without softening it—actually helps me cope.
We aren’t special.
Bad things happen.
They happen to everyone, eventually.
I waste zero time on “Why me?”
I already know the answer.
Because this is what being human means.
Sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes we don’t. That’s not punishment or destiny—it’s reality. And because that’s my starting point, I can accept what’s happening faster than if I believed there was a larger meaning to decode or a cosmic explanation I was owed.
I think this is one of the quiet strengths of Humanism.
Because we don’t believe we are protected or chosen, we accept reality sooner. And acceptance frees up energy—not for denial or bargaining, but for action.
Action Doesn’t Mean Emotional Absence
This doesn’t mean Humanists don’t feel deeply. We do.
I’m feeling it now—in the shaking, in the delayed adrenaline, in the sudden awareness of how close today came to going very differently.
But Humanism biases us toward reality-based action.
What can I do right now to make this situation a little bit better?
That question matters. It’s grounding. It gives us traction when everything feels unstable.
Action doesn’t erase grief or fear—but it keeps us moving through it instead of being consumed by it.
It’s Okay to Be Human
Crisis exposes something important: there is no “right” way to respond.
Sometimes the most human response is efficiency.
Sometimes it’s numbness.
Sometimes it’s tears that come hours—or days—later.
All of that is normal.
Humanism doesn’t ask us to transcend our humanity. It asks us to work with it.
To face reality as it is.
To care for one another because no one else is coming to save us.
To make things a little better where we can.
Humanistic Leadership in Crisis Situations
This same approach applies in workplace crises. Layoffs, public failures, harassment investigations, sudden leadership changes—these moments trigger fear and uncertainty just as powerfully as personal emergencies. Good leaders don’t dismiss emotions, but they don’t drown in them either. They make space for people to be human and help teams focus on what can be done next. What problems are solvable right now? What support is needed? What clarity can be provided? Reality-based leadership in crisis isn’t cold—it’s compassionate, stabilizing, and deeply human.
The Only Guarantee We Have
Every day we have with the people we love is a gift.
Not because it’s divinely granted.
Not because it’s deserved.
But because it’s temporary.
Knowing that doesn’t make life bleak for me—it makes it precious.
Today reminded me how thin the line is between “ordinary” and “everything changed.” And tomorrow, like today, will still require groceries, emails, and laundry.
But it will also require something else:
Presence. Gratitude. And the courage to keep acting in a world that offers no guarantees.
That, to me, is the Humanist response to crisis.
Learn More:
If you want to learn more - My first book and course can help. I explore how to live humanistically, even when things are difficult or horrifying.
Book: The Humanist Approach to Happiness - https://humanistlearning.com/the-humanist-approach-to-happiness-book/
Course: Living Made Simpler - https://humanistlearning.com/livingmadesimpler1/
I don't sugar coat things. Life is often hard. But that doesn't mean it's not also awesome. There is a duality to life's experiences. Or rather a triality. Sometimes it's great. Sometimes it's horrible and sometimes it is just ok. If you let me, I can teach you how to cope in a way that will help you - make life, the good and the bad and the meh - simpler.
