From Exhaustion to Insight: Lessons Learned from Life in Slow Motion
The Beginning of it all…
It’s been eight years since my life changed. I was twenty-three years old, I had graduated from college just a year prior and had taken a gap year to work as a teacher in Thailand. After seven amazing months of living as a teacher there, I decided to spend a couple months solo backpacking through Southeast Asia before returning to the States. During that time, I got sick with a virus, which felt just like any other cold. Except it wasn’t any other cold, because the cold symptoms went away, eventually – the stuffy nose, the cough, the sore throat, but my baseline level of health never did. Being the adventurous person I am and realizing I didn’t know when I’d get the chance to come back to Southeast Asia, I was determined to complete my mission and travel to all the places on my list anyway even if I wasn’t feeling 100%. I wasn’t about to let a cold stop me and so I pushed myself to do more than I probably should have, I kept traveling whilst still feeling sick for over two weeks.
Even when my typical cold symptoms were mostly gone, I started to notice that every time I would go out to do normal things – going on tours, walking around the town, I just didn’t feel like my normal self. I found myself getting exhausted so quickly. Even while on the most insanely beautiful tours I found myself needing to come back to my hostel and rest. I ultimately did end my trip earlier than planned and made it back to the states and back home to my parents house.
The fatigue was and continues to be the most major symptom I have had and looking back at how I was in 2017 vs. where I am today I have improved a lot in the amount of things I am capable of doing and the ways I am able to function. I had to accept it as my new normal.
However, early on it was a whole host of symptoms impacting my entire body. I was having digestive symptoms, body aches and aches all over my body, constant headaches, and brain fog. Early on I went through a period of intense insomnia that happened while I was still traveling and continued for weeks when I returned home which I can only describe as a sort of Hell. For the first time in my life having insomnia, I can say that I deeply empathize with anyone who struggles long-term with this. The torture of being insanely fatigued and depleted in your entire body and mind yet not being able to sleep is something I wouldn’t wish upon anyone. Luckily, eventually, the insomnia ended and I was able to sleep again. In fact, I started sleeping ten, eleven, twelve hours a night, and still waking up tired, not feeling the slightest bit rested. Not only that, I would get up and start trying to do things for the day but would find myself exhausted as I was just trying to complete my morning routine – having some oatmeal, having a shower and maybe trying to organize my room. I remember just after about an hour or two of doing minor, ordinary daily tasks I felt like I needed to go back to bed.
After spending eight months on my own on the opposite side of the world, I now found myself feeling disoriented and foggy just trying to walk around the block of the neighborhood where I spent the past 23 years of my life. I started to feel like going out places was overwhelming for my brain and body. I especially remember finding certain simple things like going to the grocery store or going out to restaurants to eat to be overwhelming and overstimulating for me. I noticed if I pushed myself to just be my normal self and do the things I normally did, I would get headaches signaling I needed to go back home and rest.
The Search for a Diagnosis
Then came the doctor visits and referral after referral – which at first felt hopeful, but very quickly turned into disheartening and demoralizing.
Infectious disease, neurologist, ENT, rheumatologist, cardiologist, gastroenterologist, you name it – I probably got a referral. My family was worried I got some exotic disease from Southeast Asia or some kind of parasite. I got all the bloodwork, all the tests. I hated receiving the phone calls or the updates from each and every doctor, “Your lab results are healthy, looks like everything’s good”. Great, then why do I still feel like an 85-year-old lady at age 23 all of a sudden?
Every time the doctors would suggest something else, I got a little spark of hope only to be told they found nothing wrong, as if that was supposed to make me feel better. Because it didn’t matter what the test results said, I was the one living inside my body and it definitely didn’t feel normal.
It started to feel so discouraging and so defeating every time. I started to dread seeing doctors and it felt exhausting having to tell all the details of my story over and over again just to keep being told there was no explanation, nothing to find. I was already exhausted enough.
Anger, Doubt, Grief, and Everything in Between
Through the countless visits and the lack of any plausible answers, it’s hard not to start to doubt yourself and question your own reality. It felt like I had gotten every test imaginable and there was nothing to be found – I mean the doctors are supposed to the experts on all this – right?
I spent countless days and nights searching my symptoms online and trying to find some explanation for it all. It became a sort of impulse or compulsion for me to try to solve it, and in a way, it temporarily eased my anxiety, but ultimately became an unhealthy pattern that prolonged it.
It was especially frustrating when people suggested it was just depression. I knew what depression fatigue felt like – this wasn’t it. I desperately wanted to return to my old energy levels, to do the things I’d always done. But of course, feeling so tired and limited in what I could do was inevitably depressing, so I did experience depression, but it came as a result of the chronic fatigue, not the cause.
I felt frustrated, irritated, exhausted, and disappointed. My already fatigued self didn’t have the energy to keep going through cycles of disappointment with doctors or people trying to solve my problem, so I mostly stopped talking about it and tried to stop focusing on it.
I often broke down in anger over not feeling “normal” and wishing I could wake up one day back to my old self. What hurt most wasn’t the illness itself but the lack of answers. At that time, I would have preferred a tough diagnosis to being told everything was fine.
Holding onto anger and frustration didn’t feel good and drained whatever energy I had left. To cope, I turned to art as an outlet; it was the only thing that truly helped me through those tougher moments. But I couldn’t stay stuck in my emotional pain forever – I didn’t want to spend my good moments crying and throwing things.
A Turning Point
Spoiler Alert: It didn’t get better, but I sort of did (pretty sure that’s a saying or something?). After spending a summer in bed alternating between naps and binge-watching way too many episodes of Grey’s Anatomy, and ultimately getting put on a medication that helped somewhat, I started to adjust to living with my new reality. I accepted that I wasn’t going to get a diagnosis and decided it was better to not think about it and just live life however it was going to look now.
What helped me emotionally and mentally the most was acceptance – accepting my new reality rather than focusing on trying to resolve, fight, or change it. I stopped the relentless Google searching and instead started to get in tune with myself and what I could and couldn’t do. I had to learn to live with my new experience and still make the best of and enjoy my life; I couldn’t change it. I was still alive, even if it was going to look a little different.
So, despite the frustration, the unanswered questions, the unsolvable problem, I decided to live life again. So, the doctors say I seem healthy, there’s nothing more they can do to help me – what else is there to do? I can stay angry and bitter about it for the rest of my life and remain in bed depressed and miserable, or I can try to move forward with it. Fighting it or pretending it isn’t there wasn’t going to work.
Finding My Voice Again
Eight years have gone by. Five years ago, I finally got a diagnosis of fibromyalgia, and just about three months ago, I got a diagnosis of CFS/ME (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) – both of which I had suspicions of since my early days of Google searching. The annoying thing is that both of these conditions are diagnosed after a process of eliminating basically everything else because there are no official clinical tests or biomarkers for them (considered a diagnosis of exclusion).
All this time, it’s still something I find hard to talk about or share with most people. I often feel that people don’t believe it’s real or that they simply won’t understand. I still hesitate and dread telling doctors because deep down I feel that they don’t fully believe it, because of the lack of tangible tests to “prove” it. Maybe it’s partly my own projections of not wanting to believe it’s real either, some little part of me still wanting something that feels more definitive – something that I can “cure” or “fix” entirely.
I never wanted to label myself because it felt like it would limit me from being the person I wanted or achieving my goals in life. So instead, I usually just kept those parts of my life to myself. Not talking about it helped maintain an image of normalcy. I learned to pace myself in ways that made me seem like I was functioning like everyone else, but people didn’t see all the things I did behind the scenes just to feel okay enough to do that.
Acceptance is what allowed me to be okay again. I accepted that, though there was grief, I hadn’t lost everything. I could still enjoy life. And I realize it is important to talk about and share my experience, and that doesn’t take anything away from me. So amongst all the hardships and the challenges of my chronic illness, I feel like it’s important to also reflect upon the gifts it has given me.
1. Forcing me to Slow Down
I learned to slow down because I had to. I learned how to enjoy life at a slower pace and accept that I wasn’t going to be able to accomplish all of the things all the time. As a traveler, maybe I couldn’t do as many tours in a day, maybe I would need to come back to the hotel after a few hours for a nap before going out again. In order for me to enjoy a night out dancing, I would have to take two naps instead of one, sleep a little extra during that day, and have some extra caffeine. I slowed down, but I’ve learned how to still do things that I enjoy and that matter to me. But I can also embrace the little moments of life and how good they feel – folding laundry, watering plants, slow mornings with deep stretches, and healthy, tasty breakfasts.
I wanted to still work like a normal person my age and have a job, and I started working at a preschool. I realized that having a job that kept me active but also allowed me to rest when I needed to worked well for my body. I took naps in my car every day at work, and it worked out well that I could somewhat discreetly take mini moments to rest or nap during the preschooler’s nap time, too (although it was semi-acceptable). I came home from work and napped again before getting to bed every single night by 9pm.
I adjusted my life to where I was, no pushing or pulling. I found the things that made me feel happy and alive amidst the chronic fatigue. I worked with it, not against it, because I didn’t want to spend my whole life fighting.
2. Attunement to my Body
Living with chronic fatigue syndrome, I’ve learned that pacing is the best thing I can do for myself. Once I realized I couldn’t pretend everything was normal without making my symptoms worse, I started creating routines that supported me. I became acutely aware of my body and its needs.
Sleep was essential. When I first went back to work, I built my days around rest, usually taking naps during lunch and/or as soon as I got home, and bedtime by 8:30 so I could function the next day. For me, naps aren’t a luxury; they are survival. Evenings seemed to go by quickly as it felt like it soon became time for me to go back to bed, and I missed being able to stay up late like others my age, and having those late nights making art or binge-watching a good show.
Over time, I’ve become deeply in tune with my body — not just in my rest, but with what I eat, how I move, and how much social or mental activity I take on. One late night at a concert, going out dancing, or a night of interrupted sleep can take days to recover from, so I plan and prepare ahead, knowing I’ll need extra rest before and after. These adjustments have become second nature, the things that others don’t see. I’ve become deeply aware of the intricacies of it all and how to go through my days in a way that keeps me balanced.
Eating well is a big part of how I stay balanced, and one that also feels very normalized for me. Fresh food, vegetables, and cooking at home keep me steady, while just a day of greasy foods immediately starts making my body and symptoms feel worse. I often forget that I may seem to eat more healthily than most people, but it has become normal for me, and I honestly love eating fruits and veggies and rarely crave greasy and fatty food. I haven’t ever had problems eating healthy meals, my main weakness has always been for sweets — which I do my best to limit. I very rarely drink alcohol, and if I do, I can usually only handle one or two drinks at most, but it usually tends to just make me feel more sleepy, and unfortunately, I’m not a fun drunk anymore. People sometimes praise me for being “good at self-care,” but to me, it really just feels like the way I stay functional. Missing a nap, overextending myself, or skipping medication shows up in my body quickly, so I’ve learned to notice and respond.
Hot showers, deep stretching, movement like walking/hiking, sunshine, eating tasty and healthily, coffee of course, and most importantly, periodic rest – those are the things that keep me going. Without these habits, I could easily find myself stuck in bed all day. Sometimes it makes me feel like an old lady, but giving myself permission to listen to my body’s needs has taught me how to care for myself. It has forced me to pay attention to my body in ways I might not have otherwise, and that awareness has become its own kind of strength.
3. Deeper Appreciation for the Little Things
Living with constant fatigue limits how much I can do each day, so I’m always planning how to conserve energy. Slowing down can feel frustrating and angering, or allow you to appreciate and find gratitude in life’s small moments. I’ve certainly felt both, but I choose to consciously make an effort toward the latter.
It’s not always easy, and it’s definitely a balance trying to live at a slower pace in our fast-paced and results-driven society, but when I give myself permission to do so, I find so much joy. There’s so much beauty in simple things: slow mornings, sleeping in, meditating, doing yoga, or preparing food. I savor mindful practices — chopping vegetables, stretching deeply, listening to music — and approach tasks with intention rather than rushing. I can feel the healing power in yoga as my aches dissipate, and I can delight in the sounds and true gift of music. Operating at a different pace than those around me has taught me how restorative and meaningful slowing down can be.
4. Self-Care = Survival: Prioritizing Health
I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really good at self-care. Not always — but my threshold looks different than most people’s. From the outside, it might seem like I have great routines and a healthy lifestyle, and I do. But it’s not optional. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get out of bed, go to work, or socialize.
Mindfulness and meditation are essential. Living in the moment feels like a necessity to get through the day’s tasks. It’s all I can handle because it’s all I have energy for – what’s happening right now. Stretching or doing yoga helps release tension and brings me back to life. Hot showers wake me up. Eating healthy keeps my body steady, while junk food quickly leads to headaches, digestive upset, fatigue, and brain fog.
When I sleep only seven or eight hours a night (what some might consider plenty) or if I don’t sleep soundly, I wake up nauseous or with headaches. Everything is off. When I stay up til 11 instead of going to bed at 9 or 10, I feel it the next day. I spend time making up for it. When I sleep ten hours and take naps, I feel normal. So it’s not just healthy, it’s purposeful for survival.
5. Giving Less of a Sh*t
Being fatigued and having a limited amount of energy makes me really cherish the moments and times of energy and feeling good. It makes me care a little less about the small stuff; I don’t have the energy to be consumed by it. My time is valuable, so I can’t waste time overthinking and ruminating. Don’t get me wrong – I definitely still do it – but a lot less than I used to. Allowing myself to slow down and slowing down in my mind has helped in that way. I’m not going to waste time being anxious about whether or not to ask someone that question, about whether I should reach out or not, about making things that I want happen. I’m more likely to just do it.
6. Wanting to Live Even Harder
Again, my energy is limited each and every day. I wake up at 30% battery on a good day. So I know that I only have so much energy to give to the world, and I only have so many things I can do to fill my time.
Instead of being angry at the world, I can transform that negative energy into beauty, and I can make the most of each day and the energy I do have. I can still do the things that I want, but with the necessary alterations and preparations. It’s all a matter of considering what is worth using my energy for. I want to do all the fun things that I love. I’ve always been an adventurer at heart – I mean I got sick while in Thailand after all. And I still am, I always will be, it just might need some adjustments.
7. Befriending My Fatigue
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve never been someone who felt particularly excited to sleep and even now often feel my inner night owl often wanting to push myself past my limits. It’s been a journey for me to learn to enjoy napping and sleeping more.
Now, I nap every day — sometimes more than once — and have had to learn to embrace it as a basic need for me. Growing up in a culture that places its highest values on constant productivity, it’s hard to fully let go of those feelings of discomfort, anxiety and guilt about simply just resting in the middle of the day.
When I tell people I sleep ten hours a night, they say something like “that must be nice”, and may mention getting four or five hours a night as a normal. Little do they know that I secretly envy that they can sleep so little and still go about their day like normal.
Allowing my fatigue to just exist as it is and just follow my body’s needs has made my life much more manageable. For me, my daily naps are just as necessary as having lunch during the day (though sometimes I have had to choose between a meal or a nap during the day and I’ll usually pick a nap).
Recently, one of my Buddhist teachers once told me to shift my relationship with and learn to befriend my fatigue, to focus on the good feelings that come from tiredness, such as at the end of a long day getting into bed. It was a good reminder of the power of my perspective and acceptance. My fatigue and I – I can’t quite say we are friends, but we are no longer enemies – at least we are civil with each other most of the time.
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Life doesn’t always go the way we expect or plan for, and it likes to throw us curveballs sometimes. But I am one of those people that feels like things that happen, good or bad, may not be quite “meant to be” but they are gifts in their own ways and we become stronger because of them. I have to appreciate everything that has happened to me and the way it has shaped my life and experiences because it all feels like part of my journey and process. The struggles are what have challenged me to grow, try new things, and keep moving forward. It’s never easy, but flowers always find a way to grow from the darkness.

