Navigating the Fog - Trying to Find Clarity in the Struggle
This morning was a struggle. Sleep was restless, punctuated by pain that made every position uncomfortable. I woke up multiple times, and now, as I sit here, I feel the exhaustion weighing me down. It’s been over a month since I’ve been able to exercise, and it’s been just over a week since my back surgery. My body is stuck in a constant cycle of pain and limitation, trying to heal itself while my mind struggles to keep up.
I knew this journey would be long, but I underestimated the toll it would take on my mental health. Joy and excitement for the coming days feels distant, and motivation even further than that. The things that used to bring me purpose— creative projects, my podcast—feel overwhelming and uninspiring. I find myself questioning everything which is not a place I find myself in often. Does any of what I’m doing even make a difference? Is it pushing me forward, helping me grow? If someone asked me to summarize what I’m doing and why it matters, I’m not sure I could even articulate it right now. I’m just moving through the motions, filling the space with tasks that feel like they lack direction.
I love the conversations I have through my podcast, and I wish I could do more. But the time it takes, combined with the increasing demands of work, has left me feeling completely unbalanced. Which sucks because there is still so much more I want to do, just so little motivation to squeeze every last bit of productivity out of my days. The exhaustion isn’t just physical—it’s mental, emotional, and it’s creeping into every aspect of my life. Totally overwhelming.
I know that much of it is tied to my inability to move like I want to, to sweat, to release tension through running and time outdoors. That outlet has been taken away, and with it, so much of my ability to process stress, anxiety, and uncertainty. And I have another 6-7 weeks ahead of me based on the recommendations of the doctors to let my body fully recover from surgery. I’m really struggling with whether I’ll be able to make it that long before heading out the door before I totally lose my mind. But I know that isn’t going to get me where I need to be, if anything it could potentially cause more injury and move me backwards in my healing.
And so the doubts creep in: Will I be able to run the same again? Are my best years behind me? And beyond that—what do I really want to do anyway? Do I want to go all in on running and helping others find the same motivation and transformation that running gave me? That part is easy, or course I do. A big part of the struggle is wrestling with how to find the time and energy to truly commit to that passion while still maintaining a job that provides the income we need. I can’t put all that weight on my partner. We have too many responsibilities, too many obligations to our kids. We live simply, but we can’t afford to take a step back from the financial stability my job provides.
On the other side of the token is the other reality.. the way I’ve been working, just barely keeping my head above water, isn’t sustainable either. Recording and editing conversations as audio-only already takes everything out of me, and even though I’d love to add a video element to it, I can’t even imagine the time commitment to that production process, or expanding in other ways that would demand even more time. I feel stuck in a cycle of wanting to create something meaningful but being too drained to do it well.
Logically, I know this will pass. Once I can move again and sweat and push my body hard to really test my limits, the fog will lift. But right now, it’s just hard. And it’s been hard for way too long, over a year now from when this all started and I began living with the daily pain. Today feels heavy and I’m just running out of patience with myself. I’m doing my best to not let it consume me and reminding myself there is still plenty of opportunities to embrace gratitude. I just don’t feel like myself. I miss the mountains. I miss the feeling of a hard effort that pushes my boundaries and makes my body work hard. I just need to get back to that place.
As a reality check, for now I have to focus on healing. That’s the priority. I know I can’t rush it before I’m ready. I just have to hold on, trust the process, and believe that eventually the ability to move as I want to will return in time, and when it does, so will the clarity and motivation that I so desperately need to help keep me moving forward.
