V. H. King's Ink

From a tornado in Nashville to fires in Louisville, 2020 brought more threats to my survival than just a pandemic. If the last two years have taught me anything, it’s to cherish each moment I’m given, to embrace the ones I love, and to never give up hope. As daunting as all this has been, I’m not just surviving. I’m learning to thrive.

One of the most challenging lessons I’m continually faced with is taking care of my health. It’s always easier to focus on taking care of other people. I’m motivated to do my best to help others, whether that’s at work or when it comes to my family. Taking time out for myself? That’s much harder to do. Asking for help? Nearly impossible!

My family and friends have gently and repeatedly reminded me that I’m worth the care and support I show others. It takes a lot of work to extend that same compassion to myself. I’ve realized just how much is at stake if I keep pushing myself, though. I knew that at some point, my chronic pain and fatigue would infringe on my ability to work. And maybe like most people who are faced with the inevitable–well, I thought I had more time.

Doubt isn’t the opposite of faith; certainty is.

While talking to a friend of mine the other day, they offered that bit of wisdom. Although we were talking about faith and spirituality, this line has stuck with me. In the context of caring for myself, I’ve found this concept to be a relief. It’s easier to take a leap of faith and ask for help if I’m allowed to doubt. My future is filled with so much uncertainty and so many things that are out of my control. I find myself relying on the generosity and care of others when I was raised in a society that preaches self-sufficiency.

But what if I let go of the need to be certain?

It’s a relief. Instead of punishing myself for not having enough faith, I’m allowed to doubt myself. I can second-guess myself, and I can believe that I’m genuinely deserving of care. Both can be true. That duality also lets me accept care from others–it allows me to trust them, even when I am uncertain.

My health has gotten to the point where I will not be able to work for much longer. I’m plenty anxious about this. I also know that this is the best thing for my well-being. Growing as a person means leaning into life’s challenges. It means being opening myself up to vulnerability, so that I can let other people support me. This is by no means easy, but it is entirely worth it.