The Art of Resilience: How Women Turn Struggles into Strength

Life rarely unfolds the way we plan. Sometimes, it takes us through storms we never expected, pushing us to the edge of our fears, doubts, and limitations. But within those struggles lies the power to transform, to rebuild, and to emerge stronger than ever before.

My journey—from being an artist in Iran to starting over in Norway, from facing rejection and financial hardship to building Maralkunst—was never easy. It was shaped by uncertainty, heartbreak, and countless nights of tears. But in the end, it became a story of resilience.

Leaving Everything Behind

In 2014, I moved from Iran to Norway with my husband and our two-year-old daughter. Back in Iran, I had dedicated my life to painting and art, even though I had a degree in textile engineering. Creativity was where my soul felt at home. Just when I was beginning to establish myself as an artist—holding exhibitions and gaining recognition—my life took an unexpected turn.

My husband, an engineer, received a job offer at Aker Solutions, and we made the sudden decision to move. The plan was simple: he would work, and we would build a better future. But stepping off the plane in Norway, I realized that this new beginning was also an end—an end to the life I had built, to the familiarity of my language, culture, and dreams.

A World of Unknowns

Iran and Western Europe are worlds apart. The first and biggest challenge? Language. I knew only a few words of English and not a single word of Norwegian. Without language, I felt invisible—unable to express myself, unable to connect.

Then came the second challenge: finding a job and making money. In Norway, every adult was expected to work, and my husband made it clear that I needed to contribute financially. But how?

• I had no experience working as an engineer.

• I had no network, no local references.

• I had a toddler who needed me at home until she got a kindergarten spot.

• I had no confidence.

My entire world felt overwhelming and isolating. But instead of drowning in fear, I took my first step: I enrolled in an intensive private Norwegian course, determined to learn as fast as possible. Every day, I sat in class, struggling to understand words, feeling lost yet pushing forward.

Rejections and Small Victories

Back in Iran, art had been my world. So I did the only thing I knew how to do—I searched for galleries, hoping to hold exhibitions. I visited one after another, carrying my portfolio, presenting my paintings.

Their answers were almost always the same:

“You have beautiful art, but we’re fully booked—for the next 2 to 4 years.”

Years. I couldn’t wait that long.

Just when I was about to lose hope, I discovered something unexpected: The Sunday Market at Blå. A small but vibrant market where independent artists and designers sold their creations.

I decided to take a chance.

In June 2014, I set up a small table at the market, displaying my art and handmade jewelry. At first, sales were slow. My designs reflected my Iranian heritage—rich with oriental patterns, vintage elements, and deep symbolism—but I quickly realized that Norwegian customers preferred minimal, simple designs.

I had to adapt.

Since I had little money to invest, I came up with a creative solution: I bought discounted jewelry from H&M and redesigned them in my own unique way. I turned them into pieces that still carried my artistic touch but were simpler and more appealing to local customers. My price range? 50kr to 250kr max.

Little by little, I started selling.

But my home life was falling apart.

The Pressure at Home & the Fear of Losing Everything

My husband saw my Sundays at the market as a waste of time. He wanted me to find a real job, something stable. He didn’t see my art or jewelry as a future—just a hobby that took me away from family time.

At the same time, our financial struggles grew heavier.

• We had only his salary, and Norway was expensive.

• We had just bought an apartment in Bærum, adding more pressure.

• Our daughter still had to attend kindergarten in Oslo, meaning I spent hours commuting by bus with a crying child every single day.

I was exhausted, mentally and physically.

Every morning, I dropped my daughter off at kindergarten. Every day, I went to Norwegian language courses, trying to build a life. Every evening, I returned home to arguments about money, work, and the future.

He started to say it outright:

“I want a divorce.”

I was terrified. What would I do? How could I survive? How could I raise my daughter alone?

But I wasn’t ready to give up.

Taking the Biggest Risk of My Life

In the middle of all this, I finally found a job—a temporary position at Indiska, a store in Oslo. My boss loved me, and I thrived in the role. For the first time, I felt a sense of independence.

And then, another blow.

My husband lost his job.

With him unemployed, our visa situation became unstable. If we couldn’t secure new employment within six months, we would lose our right to stay in Norway.

I had two choices:

1. Find a traditional, full-time job that met visa requirements.

2. Take a huge risk and start my own business.

I chose the second option.

I decided to open my own gallery and apply for a business visa. I had no experience, no money, and no guarantee it would work. But I knew that if I didn’t take this chance, I might lose everything—not just my visa, but my dream.

The process was terrifying.

• I had no business history in Norway.

• Every landlord I contacted rejected me—they wanted experience, financial proof, stability.

• I kept searching, pushing, believing.

And then, fate stepped in.

An Iranian artist couple who ran a gallery space in Oslo knew me from the Sunday market. When I applied for their rental space, they became my reference.

And just like that, I signed a three-year lease.

I didn’t even tell them that I didn’t have the visa yet. I just took the leap, holding onto pure faith and determination.

Maralkunst was born.

The Power of Resilience

I opened my gallery with nothing but creativity and courage. I painted the walls myself. I built displays with whatever I could find. I had no certainty, no safety net—only belief.

The first year?

• Barely any sales.

• Constant self-doubt.

• Struggles to pay rent.

But I kept going.

Every challenge—language barriers, financial struggles, heartbreak—became the foundation of my strength.

A Message to Every Woman Who Feels Lost

This story isn’t just mine. It’s the story of every woman who has left behind the familiar to chase a better life. Every woman who has faced rejection, fear, and self-doubt.

Resilience is not about never falling. It’s about rising, every single time.

If you’re struggling, if the path ahead looks uncertain—trust yourself. The strength you need is already inside you.

This is just the beginning of my journey. If this resonates with you, stay tuned—I’ll be sharing more stories of growth, transformation, and the power of following your dreams.

WomenSupportingWomen #Resilience #MaralkunstJourney