Feeling Everything

On learning to embrace my "vincibility"

Costa Rica, Feb 2023

“You’re not invincible.” The sentence pinged like a pebble bouncing off a drainpipe. I stared at my therapist, taking it in. She said it fairly often, more affirmation than breakthrough. But this time, the words reverberated with new meaning.

We had reached the takeaway that if I did nothing all day, my body would be healing, and that was enough. I know this may sound ideal to someone who desperately needs a vacation (highly recommend Nosara, for the record). But managing half a year of debilitating fatigue has been no break from reality. It’s required meeting myself moment to moment…to moment…to moment. And recently a part of me has been pretty resistant. Because I must rest, or risk jeopardizing my snail-paced recovery, I would very much like not to do it. Getting back into bed often feels like reentering my cell. (I want to acknowledge the atrocities of the prison system in America and that I am comfortable, safe, and privileged in comparison.)

I’ve heard boredom is a positive thing in recovery, a sign that you’re improving. But it can quickly lead to self-sabotage. I catch my mind bargaining with my body, “You can do this one thing, right?” or “Keep going a little longer…” while the fog rolls in behind my eyes and my legs turn to lead. It’s happening as I push myself to publish this, but the pressure in my head often precipitates something unexpected, like the fracturing of my functioning opens me up to insights previously unknown. I don’t know whether I love that sentence because it’s hypnotically melodic or my brain is just delighting in its delirium. Either way, I know I’ll pay for it later. Everything, every little thing, is a trade off. And the risk assessment involved also takes precious energy.

In that moment with my therapist, I realized I struggle to meet my body’s basic need for rest because I’ve somehow internalized that I am better when I am unbreakable. That being able to tolerate pain makes me feel stronger than if I were to protect myself from it. Well news flash, ego. I am not invincible. Not only can I not endure everything, but I don’t need to. I don’t deserve suffering. I deserve softness. I deserve stillness. I deserve peace.

And yet, old habits don’t go down without a fight.

Why do we collectively have such a hard time embracing our vincibility, for lack of a better word? (Vulnerable feels too mushy—all I’m asking is why we don’t acknowledge and honor our limits.) Is it capitalism? Trauma? Technology-induced mania? Maybe we think doing everything will protect us from feeling everything. Maybe, in the words of American folk rock band, Dawes, “it’s a little bit of everything.” (I implore you to listen to this cover by the angelic Lizzie McAlpine.)

Challenging the belief feels frustrating, terrifying, empowering, and beautiful. I’m emboldened by the thought of meeting the next evolution of myself on the other side.

Will leave you with a little poem:

-Here-
The days blur into weeks
Each morning beginning
At last night’s end
Wondering what fate awaits me
Just around the bend
But last night I asked myself
To count the things I’d miss
If today was my last day
As myself like this
I kissed them with my mind
And even shed a tear
Because everything was beautiful
And everything was here.