The Boiling Frog: A Lesson in Perseverance and Growth

It was 8AM, and I was late. Again.

The Education Lecture Hall at Arizona State was already buzzing with over 150 students, the sound of chatter and rustling notebooks echoing through the vast room. I hurriedly locked up my bike outside, still catching my breath from the ride. It had been a late night—probably too late—but skipping wasn’t an option. Missing an attendance quiz in Dr. Mendez’s class was a surefire way to tank your grade.

Sliding into a seat near the back, I hoped to go unnoticed. Dr. Mendez never cared if you were a minute or two late—as long as you showed up. I fumbled to pull out my notebook, still a little winded, when I heard him start to speak.

“Let me tell you about the boiling frog,” he began, his voice cutting through the din.

I glanced up. In a room filled with tired students half-tuned out, something about his tone pulled me in.

“Imagine a pot of water,” he said, his hands moving as if conjuring it in the air. “Drop a frog into boiling water, and it’ll hop right out. But if you put it in cool water and slowly turn up the heat…” He paused, looking around the room. “The frog won’t notice. It’ll stay there until…”

He clapped his hands sharply, startling a few of us. “…it’s too late.”

Normally, I might’ve tuned out the rest of the lecture, jotting down enough notes to get by. But that day, I was hooked. The metaphor hit me in a way I couldn’t fully explain at the time. It was just a story, right? A way to explain some abstract economic principle?

Or maybe it was something more.

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Fast Forward to Today: The Boiling Water

Fast forward to today, and I’m standing at the self-checkout line at the grocery store, staring at the total on the screen: $213.47.

I glance down at the bags in my cart, confused. It’s the same mix of groceries I’ve always bought—milk, bread, eggs, a couple of snacks for the kids, and ingredients for dinner. Nothing extravagant, nothing extra. But the number glaring back at me feels wrong.

I swipe my card, the beep of the machine pulling me out of my thoughts. As I load the bags into my cart, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. On the surface, the prices on the shelves still look the same. Nothing jumps out as being exorbitantly high. And yet, my receipt tells a different story.

Then it hits me.

I’m in the boiling water.

Over the past few years, the heat has been turning up—incremental, almost imperceptible changes. A little price increase here, a smaller package size there. You don’t notice it week by week, but then one day, you’re paying double for the same groceries you used to buy.

It’s not just the groceries, either. It’s the gas pump, the electricity bill, you name it. Everything has crept up so gradually that it’s easy to miss. But when you stop and look back—when you compare the total on today’s receipt to one from five years ago—you feel it. The weight of it all.

I sit in the driver’s seat for a moment before starting the car, the receipt still crumpled in my hand. Dr. Mendez’s words echo in my mind, louder now than they were all those years ago. The frog doesn’t notice the water heating up. Not until it’s too late.

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Finding Growth in the Heat: Pushed Out of the Comfort Zone

Sitting in the parking lot, I realize something else about the boiling frog metaphor: sometimes the heat isn’t just a danger—it’s a signal.

It’s a wake-up call to examine where you are and where you’re going. To ask yourself whether you’re staying in the pot because it’s familiar, even as the temperature rises.

That realization hit me hard because I’ve been in that pot in more ways than one. For years, I’ve been working on myself—trying to finish projects I’ve put off, like my memoir. Writing it has been a journey of healing, reflection, and growth. But when it came time to send it to agents and publishers, I froze.

Why? Because rejection terrifies me. It always has. The fear of someone saying no—or worse, not saying anything at all—kept me from taking that final step. And for a long time, I let that fear keep me in the pot, simmering in self-doubt.

But here’s the thing: staying comfortable wasn’t getting me anywhere. The water wasn’t cooling down. If anything, the fear of never trying was worse than the fear of failing.

So now, I’m doing something different. I’ve started investing in myself—spending nights and weekends working on my memoir, polishing it, preparing it for the world. It’s not easy, and it’s definitely not comfortable, but it’s necessary.

The heat, as uncomfortable as it is, is pushing me to grow. It’s forcing me to face my fears and leap out of the pot. Because I’ve realized that the only way to make this book a success, the only way to grow as a person, is to take that leap of faith and believe that all this work will pay off.

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The Takeaway: Growth Through Challenge

The truth is, we all face boiling water in one way or another. For some, it’s financial pressures. For others, it’s the weight of self-doubt, fear, or unfulfilled dreams. But here’s what I’ve learned: the heat doesn’t have to destroy you. It can refine you.

Sometimes, it’s the challenges—the rising temperatures—that push us to grow. To step out of our comfort zones. To believe in ourselves, even when it feels like the odds are stacked against us.

Faith plays a big part in that for me. It’s what keeps me going when the path feels uncertain, what reminds me that I’m not alone in this journey. It’s a reminder that even when the water feels unbearable, there’s a purpose to it.

The heat has a way of shaping us, of revealing strengths we didn’t know we had. It’s in those moments—when we face the boiling water and refuse to give up—that we discover what we’re truly capable of.

So, if you’re feeling the heat right now, know this: you’re not stuck. You’re not powerless. The water might be hot, but it’s also a chance to grow. To push past the fear, the self-doubt, and the comfort of staying still.

Take that first step. Turn the heat into fuel. Hop out of the pot and into the life you’ve been dreaming of. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: the only thing standing between you and your next chapter is the courage to jump.