It’s almost May! Unbelievable.
This month’s blog post comes later than normal because I have been ill on and off for weeks. I think (and hope) that I’m nearing the end of my sickness marathon. There’s a lot I’ve been learning about myself from days of idling and recovering and I wanted to share some reflections in a loose, free-flowing way.
Starting in late February, I noticed that at random parts of the day I was struggling to take deep breaths. I’d experience some chest pain at the start of a run or an hour into a gig. I brushed off the symptoms, assuming they’d go away on their own in a few days or weeks. They didn’t. I finally went to the doctor mid-March and did some tests; the doctor assumed I either had a lung infection or adult-onset asthma. I was given some medications and an inhaler and told to pay attention to my breathing for a few weeks.
Then a couple of weeks ago, I woke up feeling like I had the flu. I was feverish, clammy, fatigued, and had a sore throat. But this sore throat was strange. I only felt pain when I swallowed. I went to the doctor again, who told me that I had tonsillitis and prescribed me some antibiotics. I felt better over the course of a week, only for the tonsillitis to return full-force a few days later. I just finished a round of stronger antibiotics and have my fingers crossed that they stick this time.
My mental health took a bit of a hit throughout my tonsillitis episodes, having missed a few weeks’ worth of work, music practice, and social activities. I beat myself up for not having the energy to be productive. My friends, family, and colleagues were more than gracious, giving me plenty of space and encouraging me to rest. For some reason, this made me feel worse. Although I had a genuine reason to cancel plans and undeniably needed to rest, I felt sour and guilty. I had this irrational fear that I was being dramatic about my health and eventually my loved ones would lose patience with me. But no one was pressuring me, I realized, other than myself.
I had gigs lined up that I needed to get well for. I had work travel coming up. I had a half-marathon to start training for. One of my good friends was moving in a few weeks. But there was nothing I could do. I felt utterly helpless.
I realized the only option I had in the moment was to surrender control and let myself rest. Instead of obsessively downing Vitamin C supplements and googling my symptoms, I could trust my body to take care of its own healing. My illness was my body’s way of sending me a signal—I am completely burnt out.
I have been running on empty for a few months now, driven almost exclusively by a desire to prove myself. I wanted to make rapid progress at work to show to both myself and my family that I’m “going somewhere” in my career. I was gigging regularly and on a rigid practice schedule, especially on guitar, because I feel like my skills don’t line up with the fact that I’ve played for over a decade. I was taking mini trips, going to concerts, and visiting friends almost every weekend because that’s what young 20-somethings are supposed to do. An offhand comment from my ex sent me on a spiral that made me obsess over “glowing up” and proving him wrong. I was just doing way too much. My schedule is becoming unwieldy and cluttered.
Of course, there’s nothing wrong with caring about self-improvement. But I think it needs to be supplemented with an equal or greater amount of self-acceptance. Otherwise, you risk burning yourself out and spiraling into self-loathing. I do care about myself enough to want to know where this unyielding and oppressive desire to improve myself stems from. As a person who has multiple deep passions, I’m already easily stretched thin. But add on top of that the pressure to be the 100% best I can in every single area of my life, and I’m just exhausting myself.
There’s a lot I need to unpack and reflect on. But I know for sure that I need to give myself more breathing room. I have to be okay with not being my best, perfect self everywhere, all the time. Instead of trying to force growth and change, I need to trust the systems and routines that I have in place already will lead me where I want to go. Despite a lot of uncertainty in my life, I need to trust that everything will work out just fine. I’m working on it. Or, more accurately, I’m resting on it.
God forbid my tonsillitis come back. But if it does, I think I’ll be a little kinder to myself.
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