What if the greatest freedom you have is one no one can take from you?
Out of the darkest hours, separated from his pregnant wife and his parents and brother, Viktor Frankl, a 37-year-old neurologist and psychoanalyst, was imprisoned in concentration camps for nearly three years.
He was stripped of his family, home, belongings, and career. He lived among bunkmates, many of whom would meet their demise in gas chambers, through illness, or by suicide. Starving, reduced to bones, beaten, he trudged through snow in tattered, hole-ridden boots in forced labor camps (Frankl, 2006).
With each breath, he faced death.
Yet Frankl spoke of freedom. He woke each day encouraging others to find meaning in their lives. Of all things, he found humor to be a remedy, bringing lightness into the darkness.
For Frankl, it was not just about survival, but hope. The hope of seeing his wife and family again. It was also a deep curiosity about what separated those who maintained a will to live from those who lost it. He endured and remained in the camps until their liberation.
From that place, he discovered something profound. Even when everything is taken, there is still freedom no one can strip away. The freedom to choose one’s response.
What Frankl observed in the camps, the Church has long taught about the human person.
From a Catholic perspective, this freedom is not just a psychological insight. It reflects something essential about who we are.
We are created in the image of God, with intellect and will. We have the capacity to know the good and the freedom to choose it. This is the gift of free will (Vitz et al., 2020).
Even when emotions are strong and circumstances feel unchangeable, the will remains. It may feel weakened. It may feel buried under fear, grief, or habit. But it is never erased.
Free will shows up in the ordinary moments of our lives.
It begins in our thoughts.
We cannot always control the thoughts that arise, but we can choose what we do with them. We can dwell on them, challenge them, or redirect them toward what is true and good. Over time, this shapes the way we see ourselves, others, and the world.
It continues in how we treat ourselves and others with dignity.
We can choose self-condemnation, or we can choose honesty with mercy. We can remain stuck in discouragement, or take one small step forward, even when we do not feel ready.
It is present in our actions toward others.
In moments of tension, we can react impulsively, or we can pause. We can choose patience over irritation, forgiveness over resentment, presence over distraction.
It is present in our habits.
What we choose repeatedly, day after day, shapes the direction of our lives. Small, consistent acts of the will gradually strengthen virtue.
It is present in our resilience.
Not in the absence of suffering, but in how we respond to it. We can give in to despair, or we can continue to hope, to endure, and to begin again.
It is present in our attention.
What we focus on. What we return to. What we allow to take root in our minds and hearts.
And it is present in our relationship with God.
We are not meant to rely on our own strength alone. God’s grace is there for us, but it is not forced upon us. We open the door and to say yes to God, we begin to hear His call, our heart warms to possibilities, to hope. We gain courage to move, to grow.
Even a small yes matters because we are stepping into possibilities for good.
While most of us will never face the same type of suffering Frankl endured, we have experienced feeling trapped.
Maybe we have not been trapped in prison, by physical walls, but by fear, discouragement, loss, or patterns we struggle to change.
What do we consider the prison that has a grip on our lives?
Sometimes prison is not only our circumstances. It is the belief that nothing can change. That we have no agency. That hope is no longer realistic.
We are not only what has happened to us.
We are someone who can still choose.
We can choose to respond differently.
We can choose one small act of curiosity and courage.
We gain meaning, even before we feel it, by noticing how God has called us to action in the smallest of ways. These moments point us in a direction.
Are you still open to possibility?
Or have you lost something so profound that you cannot imagine another life?
If that is where you are, what would it look like to begin again?
Not all at once, but with one small act of freedom today.
If you find yourself in a place of deep struggle or despair, you do not have to walk through that alone. Reaching out for help is not a weakness. It is a courageous step toward healing.
If you are experiencing intense discouragement or despair, I encourage you to seek the support of a Catholic therapist who can help you heal, and gently restore your sense of hope and agency.
If you are feeling stuck, uncertain, or in need of direction, a Catholic coach can help you move forward. Through a focus on your strengths, life balance, and habit formation, you can begin to take meaningful steps toward the life you are called to live.
No matter where you are starting, change does not happen all at once. It begins with one small step. One small yes.
If you are ready to take that step, I would be honored to walk with you.
References
Learn more about Viktor Frankl and Catholic Anthropology.
Frankl, V. E. (2006). Man’s search for meaning. Beacon Press.
Vitz, P. C., Titus, C. S., & Nordling, W. J. (2020). A Catholic Christian meta-model of the person: Integration with psychology and mental health practice. Divine Mercy University Press.
To connect with Suzi Ellington, visit her directory profile at
https://www.catholiclifecoaches.com/suzanne-ellington
- Coherence: Where Grace Meets Free Will – How God Weaves Meaning Through Our Choices - June 18, 2026
- The Freedom No One Can Take From You - April 23, 2026
- Your Brain on Habits: Why Discipline Isn’t Enough - April 9, 2026
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