Some stories don’t fit inside neat arcs. Rebecca Galli’s life holds a brother gone at 17, a son who passed at 15, two children with special needs, and sudden paralysis nine days after divorce. What unfolds is not a list of tragedies but a blueprint for living when certainty disappears: short morning rituals that steady the mind, phrases that reframe pain, and a practice of choosing the next right step even when the path splits.
We dig into parallel paths, a therapist’s tool that changed everything. Instead of waiting for clarity, Rebecca plans two futures at once—the hope path and the reality path—so she keeps moving whether life opens or closes. That motion shows up everywhere: in how she shifted from why to how after hard news, in how she built a support boat that changed over time, and in how she tracks the power of better by noticing one small improvement each day. Her father’s wisdom—let your love be larger, you will always walk with a limp, but you will walk—becomes a way to honor wounds without being defined by them.
Rebecca also turns personal need into public good. A yellow flyer about ABA in Madison’s backpack leads to Pathfinders for Autism, a resource that now serves tens of thousands with training, sensory-friendly events, and a searchable database for families. Acceptance doesn’t mean shrinking your life; it can free you to build a new one. When therapy no longer promised walking, she made a “big toe moment” decision to stop, then poured that time into candlelit dinners, playlists, and presence with her kids. Humor keeps showing up too—snow angels in a wheelchair, van mishaps ending in tears of laughter—proof that joy can coexist with grief.
If you’re navigating caregiver burnout, special needs parenting, grief, or abrupt change, you’ll leave with practical tools: start mornings with intention, plan in parallel, assess your capacity, curate your crew, and let love be larger than the storm. Subscribe, share this conversation with someone who needs it, and tell us the line you’ll carry into tomorrow.
