Feeling Inspired

My "ta-da" list for 2024

S/O and thank you to Amber Horrox for inspiring me to make a ta-da list!

As winter made its slow approach, I found myself retreating inward. Two years since my Covid reinfection, and one year after my first severe ME/CFS crash, I wondered where this was all heading. Creativity came in shorter bursts, and ideas froze over shortly after inception. I felt heavy as the early setting sun and cold as the ground I rarely touched.

View from my window this morning.

But something shifted when I started to think about what I had been able to accomplish this year. I decided to write a ta-da list not to sugarcoat my life, like I might have in the past, but to honor the ways I showed up for myself and reflect on what I’ve learned.

I was happy to realize that I drafted my list on the winter solstice, which marks the shortest day of the year and represents a time of new beginnings for those who celebrate. It’s a great day to reflect, connect with nature, release past hurts and negative energy, and prepare for the year ahead. Not to worry if you missed it—every day is a great day to do those things!

Here’s what I came up with:

January
I handled getting laid off with grace. Though I was physically in a tailspin, I was validated by leadership and loving coworkers for my 5 years of foundational work at a successful start-up (so like, 25 in regular work years!).

I took a songwriting class led by Adrianne Lenker, who is equal parts the badass front woman of Big Thief and an introspective, universally-conscious solo artist. In short, my idol. The last time I saw her live, my soul exploded as she screamed into a microphone, head shaved, saliva flying. Life embodied. My creativity found a new outlet and I started to seriously explore expressing myself through writing. So grateful to my love, Dave for gifting me that class and in doing so, helping me feel alive again.

February
I bravely faced a nasty stomach bug, using the inner child work I had been doing to let myself get sick for the first time in many years. For context, I’ve had emetophobia since I was seven. Not-so-fun fact: I choked on a nickel when I was two years old and spent many hours in the ER waiting room while my body unsuccessfully tried to propel it from my esophagus.

It’s estimated that 1 out of every 1000 people have this trauma-induced phobia, relying on strict preventative measures (similar to OCD) and management strategies if we do get ill (if you’d call starvation and sheer will a strategy). It was a massive growth spurt for me to trust my body’s instincts and give myself what I needed in the moment. While I haven’t been cured of my fear, I’m still incredibly proud of myself for the way I handled that episode.

March - April
I survived being mostly bedbound / housebound during this time. I slowed all the way down. I learned how to do absolutely nothing for long stretches of time. I took a “fake it till you make it” approach to loving myself, listening to my body and meeting my needs in hopes of escaping the extreme mental and physical fatigue of ME/CFS. I cuddled Carlos (my soul cat), George (my doggo), and Dave for comfort. I began making art to support my healing. A very thoughtful and accommodating friend visited and we spent one morning sitting by the beach.

May
I created a public IG account, @mylongpause to share my experience living with a debilitating chronic illness, in solidarity with an entire community working to make the invisible, visible. The feeling of being seen, understood, and supported by both old friends and new has been a balm for past experiences in a deep and lasting way.

I started this Substack and shared my first post. I’m forever thankful to my wonderful friend, Ruth for reading the draft and encouraging me to join the platform, among the many other ways she’s inspired and supported me through our friendship.

June
I started taking an SNRI after living with “high-functioning anxiety” for over two decades. A huge leap for someone who has white-knuckling practically encoded into their DNA. I expected to be prescribed a SSRI because Long Covid is associated with reduced serotonin levels, but my genetic test and month-long crashes suggested I’d benefit from more norepinephrine as well.

My task avoidance improved. I followed a guided meditation each morning without hesitation or distraction—there was zero barrier between what I intended to do and what I did. When I saw a dirty cup in the sink, I washed it without a second thought. What bliss! My growing suspicion that I had undiagnosed ADHD was validated after experiencing how the “other half” lives. I was able to develop more acceptance for my challenges and setbacks, as well as new strategies to support my neurodivergent brain (which I later wrote about here!).

I learned how to ask for help and emotionally regulate (still a work in progress), strengthening my relationship with my family. My mom started coming over once a week to do mom stuff, cooking pots of arroz con pollo, vacuuming copious amounts of dog and cat hair, and opening my piles of mail.

I was able to follow through on an upstate getaway Dave and I had booked earlier in the year. At this point, I still needed to recline my seat and cover my eyes with a washcloth to avoid flaring on longer car rides. We had a brand new collapsible wheelchair packed in the back. Upon arrival, we realized our Airbnb was at the top of a substantial flight of stairs. After resting and doing visualizations in the car, I was able to make it up. It was a hopeful moment and a happy trip overall.

July-September
Since hotter temperatures trigger my POTS, the summer was full of ups and downs, a constant dance with my rocketing heart rate.

I took more opportunities to stretch my baseline, and my capacity slowly grew. I was able to walk down the block, go for a float in the bay, celebrate parts of a childhood friend’s bachelorette weekend, and attend a two-day (!), much-anticipated local music festival. Each of these experiences was a mix of terrifying, life-giving, and fun.

I developed the mental discipline and emotional strength I needed to sit with painful flares and hold my fear of crashing into lower levels of functioning. I used nervous system regulation techniques and art therapy to move emotions and create a feeling of safety in my body, which helped me sustain and recover from each excursion. And I’m not exaggerating when I say I would never have left the house at all if it wasn’t for Dave (thank you lovey).

October
I fell in love with the self-care app, Finch. It helps me stay on top of my hydration, medication / supplements, and more joyful habits, all while harkening back to the untroubled days of Pokémon and Animal Crossing. Best of all, it’s free! Be sure to message me if you’d like to become friends with Phoenix, my avian avatar on the app.

I stopped relying on the Visible wearable to track my HRV and heart rate, with the intention of learning to listen to my body and trust my judgement. After a month of trial and error / boom-and-bust, I started to find my way and feel safe again.

November
I hit 2 years without drinking! Alcohol worsens my symptoms, fuels my impulsivity and reactivity, and encourages fawning by dimming my intuition and inner strength. I’m extremely happy I’ve drawn this boundary with myself so that I can focus on developing coping strategies that don’t involve masking and numbing.

S/O to Recess (Mood) drinks and Flare earplugs for making social events less daunting without alcohol, Athletic Brewing Co. for making damn good non-alcoholic beer, and Dave for inspiring me to stay sober on darker days.

Carlos the miracle cat came back from late-stage kidney failure! In part thanks to generous donations from sweet friends and followers, Dave and I were able to keep the feline LOML in the ER for several days and nurse him back to health at home. I conquered things I never could have done in the past—giving him daily oral medication, both in liquid and pill form, and subcutaneous fluid (surprisingly the easiest to master). I ended my birthday month bursting with love and gratitude for my “people,” human and otherwise.

December
I decided to take the month off Instagram after realizing my screen time was exceeding the hours of light in the day. I redirected the time and mental energy I would have spent scrolling to read my first three books of the year: Powerless (a YA book recommended to me by Dave’s niece), Initiated: Memoir of a Witch, and Pieces of Blue. I had a hard time putting each of them down!

So, what have I learned after a year of healing?

• True healing lies in becoming okay with not always being okay. My body will go through very real changes, in chronic illness and in life, and that is a defining characteristic of being human. Like the saying goes, “life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” I’m learning how to live in the in-betweens.

• Acceptance is paradoxically the first step to change. I can’t get there unless I first arrive here. I’m practicing meeting myself where I’m at, being present, and giving myself room to grow. Space, hope, and compassion are the earth, sunlight, and rain that allow the seed of my life to germinate.

• Everything is magic. Turning raw food into a meal is magic. Turning calories into energy is magic. Connecting with nature is magic. Energy work is holy magic. To love and be loved is delicate magic. Healing is magic.

• Nobody needs me as much as I need myself. As Ram Dass said, “I can do nothing for you but work on myself. You can do nothing for me but work on yourself.” In other words, I will not set myself on fire to keep others warm. I am responsible for my healing, my growth, and my becoming, and while I believe we are all connected, other people are responsible for theirs. Meeting my own needs is an important act of service that precedes all others.

• We are nature. As much as man has tried to become machine, it is natural to ebb and flow like the tide, the trees, and the atmosphere. Some days were meant for rain. Some nights were meant for pain. (Sorry, not sorry.) Our lives are meant to have a healthy mix of doing and just, being. And we’re not always going to get it perfect, or even remotely right. A good life is not pristine and controlled, but filled with pursuit, surrender, and our best attempts to love ourselves and others.

Thank you to everyone following along and bearing witness to my evolution. Healing is a marathon. Knowing you’re on the sidelines, whether waving silly, uplifting signs or sharing in the aching battle cry, makes a world of difference. Sending all my love this holiday season and for your own new beginnings.

While the winter solstice has passed, I hope you find this blessing inspiring:
May you find peace in the promise of the Solstice night,
That each day forward is blessed with more light.
That the cycle of nature, unbroken and true,
Brings faith to your soul and well-being to you.