Purposeful.
My Story.
By, Ally
“My life is slower but more purposeful…My definition of success has changed from being able to do it all, to being able to do what’s best for myself.”
Looking back, I think I’ve spent most of my 23 years of life focused on being perfect. My idea of “perfect” started in first grade when I was praised for reading the most books throughout the year. I learned at 5 years old that was the type of success everyone recognized and respected, and luckily it came naturally to me. In middle and high school, I was a straight A student who spent her time outside of the classroom bouncing between sports practice, community service organizations, and an after-school job. I felt these were the activities that I needed to excel in to get into the best college and have the best career. Once I got into college, there were even more things I felt I needed to be the best at: class, campus jobs, research, student organizations, volunteering, having a social life. I felt more successful as I filled up my Google Calendar. I thrived on the idea that I could do it all, and I think I formed much of my identity around the fact that I really could.
That is, until November 2021, during our senior year of college, when my roommates and I tested positive for COVID. We were more worried about impacting the people around us than how the virus would affect us. Everyone had told us that since we were young and healthy, we were the best people to get it. Essentially, getting COVID was seen as a “10 days of online class” free pass before life resumed as normal. Except, when our 10 days of mild cold-like symptoms passed, my life didn’t resume like my roommates’ did. I tried to continue my regular routine by resuming my half-marathon training and returning to class, work, and extracurriculars. I had a deadline approaching for a research project and I was hoping the 10 days didn’t put me too far behind. Looking back now, I remember finishing that research project was really my only concern at that point in time. I still had lingering fatigue, chest pain, shortness of breath, and a cough, and thankfully my teachers sent me home to rest for another week. The week after, I went to urgent care for a worsening cough and received steroids and inhalers to try. I met with my doctor, but she had no advice besides waiting it out. For the next month, I finished my fall semester trapped in my bed with mental fatigue that ruined my ability to think and physical fatigue that prevented me from even walking to the bathroom and showering. At the time, I didn’t think to question why my showers started making me feel so exhausted and dizzy, especially when I raised my arms above my head, I just accepted everything as a general lingering effect of COVID. After a restful winter break, I started winter semester with less fatigue and I was able to make it through the semester, owing my graduation to online classes and some accommodations from my teachers. I was still experiencing symptoms, but my doctor told me they should go away soon and she didn’t know how to help. I kept hoping things would get better as I prepared to move cities to start my new full time job.
When I started my job in June, about 7 months had passed since my COVID infection, and I still had all of my lingering symptoms, even some new ones. But this was my dream job, the perfect stepping stone before grad school, so I continued telling myself what everyone else was telling me - these symptoms should go away soon. At first, I embraced the “push through” mentality in all aspects; I showed up to work early and stayed late to show how dedicated I was, I went out with new friends even when I was symptomatic to show I had a social life, and I even walked places when I could have taken public transportation to show myself that I could still do it. This is when I really started feeling the impact of my symptoms on my daily life again. Over the rest of the summer and fall I slowly continued to get worse, but I wanted to ignore it.
Obviously, I ended up hitting a point in the fall when I could no longer do it all. I had to start saying no to friends and asking for help at work just so I could survive each week. Thankfully, I was able to join a Long COVID research study near me that performed a large battery of clinical tests and showed I had developed POTS. While this provided validation that there was a scientific reason for my struggles, it was only a research study, so I went back to my doctor for help. She told me she kind of remembered learning about POTS in school but didn’t remember anything about it, so she referred me to specialists. Specialist appointments were months out, so I was left to figure out this diagnosis on my own. I knew I was going to have to embrace some lifestyle changes when I learned that POTS is a chronic disorder of the nervous system, exacerbated by stress. I was basically forced to start rethinking much of what my identity had become - my plan of enduring struggle and stress in order to see myself as perfect or successful was really not going to fly anymore.
Now, it’s been 8 months since my POTS diagnosis and a year and a half since my COVID infection. My symptoms have been pretty stable for the past few months, with fatigue being the most present and debilitating one. During this time, I’ve been able to slowly learn more about my symptoms and start filling in pieces of the puzzle. As I work towards better symptom management, my life looks very different than it did before COVID. There are many physically visible differences, like using a wheelchair to go out with friends, showering with a shower chair, taking more time off work, and spending hours or sometimes days resting after an activity. There are a lot of physical activities that I used to do all the time but can’t do right now, like going out dancing or going for long runs, and I’ve learned it’s important to allow space to grieve those things I’m missing.
However, there are also differences that others wouldn’t notice, especially if they didn’t know me before my COVID infection. A scarce Google Calendar means I can spend more time reading, journaling, and reflecting. My social life is dedicated to strengthening relationships with my closest friends as opposed to going out drinking with anyone who was available. I rely on friends, family, and even sometimes strangers in public for help. I ask for accommodations and can speak up for my needs. I spend my extra energy on social media connecting with and helping others who are going through a similar experience. Little things like a short walk on a warm sunny day bring me more joy than I thought possible. I’m more hydrated than I’ve ever been in my life, and care more about what I put in my body. These have all been such unexpected positive changes. Overall, my life is slower but more purposeful.
While it wasn’t by choice, I’m thankful to be in a situation that has made me prioritize my mental and physical health. These lifestyle changes are some of the ways I’m learning how to slow down and listen to my mind and body. Most importantly, my definition of success has changed from being able to do it all, to being able to do what’s best for myself.
Extra things that I think are important:
Being proud of yourself
Asking for help instead of pushing through alone
Allowing space for grief and sadness
Ignoring people who only want to embrace the hustle culture
Enjoying little moments and finding gratitude every day
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