Experiences Instead Of Accomplishments

Waking up disabled last October changed a lot of things, including my mindset, which has done a complete 180. I used to be all about accomplishments. Now I’m only interested in experiences.

Experiencing something feels better than accomplishing something.

My entire life, I was always rushing and striving to accomplish things. I had this unconscious belief that the next accomplishment, the next completed task. the next super-intense thing I survived, would somehow bring me peace. It would quell my anxiety. I would finally have value.

Everything was something to be overcome or accomplished. Difficult relationships, shady employers, 5ks, mud runs, becoming a Paramedic, dance choreography, personal best dead-lifts, hikes, a fitness competition, you name it. It was all stuff to check off the accomplishment list. It made me happy every time I crossed something off, but the happiness never lasted. There was always something else on the list.

The list never shortened, by the way. It only ever grew.

There was always another mountain to climb, another course to complete, another book to read, another subject to learn, another thing that someone at some point said I couldn’t do, and always a sense of urgent intensity permeating everything in my life. I had to be constantly busy, constantly productive, constantly accomplishing. Constantly doing something! I think I missed out on a lot of experiences because I was too focused on accomplishments. I was always looking ahead to the end goal, never around me to take it in very much.

Accomplishing hikes in my previous life was my jam. I’d do them in record time, no resting unless a hiking companion was doing a lot of whining, and then check it off my list. Boom, accomplished! I loved the physical hardship and exertion required to ‘power hike.’

I just did my second hike since my brain broke. It wasn’t long, and it wasn’t fast, and it certainly wasn’t intense but it was amazing anyway.

I looked at wildflowers up close and I watched a cheeky squirrel have a snack. Then I sat by a lake and looked at the whitecaps. I heard trees creaking in the wind. I sat often to let my heart rate come down to normal, and I watched my husband and my dog wander around the water.

Sitting and moving slowly let me have deep life thoughts. One of which was that it was cold out, and I really wanted a hot chocolate on our way back to the city. The other:

I don’t know what else I really need to accomplish at this point. My list was erased back in October and it only has a few entries now. A lot of things that were on my list were things I didn’t even care about doing, they were on the list because of other people.

At the top of my new list is recover my physical abilities at least 90%. So far so good. I’ve added a couple more items to the list that make me really excited, but there’s no great rush or urgency. They’re just for me, anyway. They aren’t prestigious, and they won’t make me wildly successful or rich or famous. I’ve quit banking on accomplishments making me happy, but these new things on my list make me happy regardless because they aren’t accomplishments per se. They’re experiences and they’re just for me.

Thanks to my damaged brain stem, life is slower.

I’m slower too. Now when I forget and start doing something close to my ‘old normal’ speed, my brain throws the e-brake. If I’m going too fast, I briefly lose the connection between my brain and my body. It brings me to a complete stop until the connection re-establishes.

Initially, of course I hated it. Suddenly being paralyzed and unable to move despite your best efforts is terrifying, I don’t care how badass you think you are. Months later, it happens much less often. I don’t adore it but I don’t look at it as a limitation that’s ruining my life either. It’s like my engine has a governor. Or I’m having my bandwidth throttled. I’m less frustrated by it now.

I just see it as a warning that my needle is moving into the red.

Once the connection reestablishes, I’m much more mindful and deliberate. I focus on what I’m doing in the present moment and I’m calm about it. What am I rushing for? Where am I rushing to? I spent my life being incredibly busy and feeling like I was constantly running behind. Until my brain broke, and now I’m just here. Not early, not late, not ahead, not behind. Just here. Just being.

We only did 2 miles in 2 hours because there was a storm blowing in and I need time to trust myself again. I’m scared that I might be doing great, push it too far, (story of my life) and then hit some kind of wall where I stop being able to walk. I fear being stranded in the wilderness with no way to get help.

I hate having that fear.

A year ago? I had the physical capability to hike twenty miles or more over rough terrain if I wanted to. But now walking to the grocery store on the next block can be a challenge. Having complete faith in my physical strength and fitness is something I miss.

But I’m really good at adapting, even though I’m heartily sick of it. So I took lots of rest breaks to take photos and even sat down a few times just to see if it would help delay the onset or severity of the foot drop. I think it did. The foot drop didn’t become really problematic until we were almost back to the truck. I’m sure it helped that I stayed nice and cool. The temperature was only a balmy ten degrees thanks in part to a savage wind. Only once I was at the end of the hike and back on pavement could anyone tell there was anything wrong with my gait.

Heated seats once we got back to the truck never felt so good and we stopped for hot chocolate once we got back to the highway just like I wanted. The whole day was really splendid.

After the hike, I feel pretty confident that if I gave myself several hours to account for rest breaks and slow moving, I’ll eventually be able to do the whole 5,5 mile hike. It just wouldn’t be speedy! It feels like I can once again do all the things, I just can’t do them fast.

The first hike I did in March was to see if I could accomplish it after everything I’d been through. It’ll be the last hike I accomplish.

This second hike felt better because it wasn’t an accomplishment.

It was an experience and I want more of that. 🙂

We couldn’t take the original trail due to a bear closure but this was the plan.