A few years ago my body stopped me completely. I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t function. At the time I called it burnout and it was. But it was also something else. Something that would come to define a good chunk of my life and show up for years to come.
When I look back at that time, I don’t think about the diagnosis first. I think about the silence, the strange, uncomfortable silence of a life that had suddenly gone very still. Who was I without meetings, school drop off’s or pick ups, not sitting at the dinner table, not being able to play with the kids?