Baby Steps = Momentum

Trying to Accomplish Anything Through the Fog of Neurological Exhaustion

I have been a bit stuck for the past 8-10 weeks, an estimated time frame because I have been too tired to keep track.

The days pass by in a fog: brain fog.

Photo by Milad Fakurian on Unsplash

Plans for big goals have fallen by the wayside out of necessity. Multiple Sclerosis, Type II Diabetes, and Reynaud’s are demanding my attention. I prefer to focus on fun stuff, but the fun has to wait. I have to be patient. I have to recover. I am still learning to pace myself, which is a huge challenge for me.

Before this season of recalibration, I was already exhausted. That is my baseline. I operate from there every day. Neurological fatigue is a beast. It is overwhelming. It does not resemble being tired. It is debilitating. A good night’s sleep seldom means that I will wake up feeling rested. Each morning is a battle to gain any mental clarity, any energy or enthusiasm, at all.

I can tell when it is neurological fatigue ramping up to drag me down because I stop doing things that I love and that are meaningful to me: Morning Pages, reading, cooking, walking, yoga, writing, and even reaching out to loved ones. Every single thing I must do each day feels monumental and impossible.

Photo by Oscar Keys on Unsplash

It isn’t easy to explain. When it first hit me like a train in 2003, my goals, our goals, were quickly derailed. I could no longer work. I became disabled.

Before: After an hour-long commute, I worked out at the gym for an hour each day, worked a 60-hour week, still had energy to cook, clean, and play hard when I got back home.

After: No more gym. No more work, after several weeks of having to sleep on my office floor for hours just to be able to commute back home. No work accomplished between my arrival and departure. I tried so hard.

If it had not happened to me, I would not have been able to understand what it might be like for someone else. I get it when people don’t understand it.

I have been healing and recovering my creativity the past couple of years. Part of that process, for me, has been becoming better at observing, of noting the beautiful, difficult, large and tiny occurrences that compose a creative life.

Photo by Guilherme Stecanella on Unsplash

Despite all of the health challenges of the past several weeks, I noticed that it is still possible to be creative, to accomplish goals, to carry positive momentum forward. I had to adjust my goals, and my activities, to match my severe lack of energy. Many days felt like I was trying to think through quicksand-like cognition. Many days I accomplished absolutely nothing.

But…I still finished formatting my 1^st book and readied it for publication. I recovered from the injuries of two falls. I advocated for myself with my medical team to try new treatment in the form of Vestibular Therapy, and I made it to those appointments. I hunted down a 3T MRI machine for 2 upcoming scans, and fought to be sure I get my imaging done in the machine that my neurology team wants for best results. I returned to leading Silent Writing sessions at A Writing Room. And I walked the dogs in sunshine today, remaining vertical the whole way.

Each day, I love. I laugh. And today, finally, I am writing here again: scrambled, clunky, hesitant. But mission accomplished.

Baby steps equal momentum. All is not lost.

Baby steps are all I have been able to do, and some of those steps have landed me flat on my face on the sidewalk. There are more health challenges ahead. But, with the support of my hubby, I am able to get back up, laugh it off, take whatever actions are within our control, and take more baby steps forward.

Photo by Sincerely Media on Unsplash

Persistence pays off. If I can slog through, I’m convinced that you can too. You conquer your fears and challenges every day, just like I do.

The good news is that we aren’t in it alone. We have each other.

What is the next baby step you will take to further your dreams and goals?