The Endless Cycle of Trying One More Thing
I recently started reading fiction again for the first time since high school, when it was required. That might not sound like a big deal, but for me, it is.
I am a recovering information junkie.
For a long time, I believed every minute needed to be productive. If I was reading something, listening to something, or spending time on something, it needed to teach me something or be useful. Reading just for fun felt like a waste of time.
And when you are wired that way, and you are dealing with a health issue, it does not stay contained. It grows.
You start listening to every podcast, reading every book, following every expert, and buying into every promise until you become the expert yourself. That way, you can feel more in control of what is happening. To someone who likes to be in control like me, that actually sounds rational.
But somewhere along the way, it stops being helpful. And if I am honest, it starts becoming a little obsessive. Your health issue stops being something you are dealing with and starts becoming part of who you are.
But it is subtle. It does not happen overnight. But one day, you realize that if your input is constantly searching for the next answer, then your output is going to be more of the same.
There is always more. More supplements to try, more experts to learn from, more protocols to discover. It starts to feel like you are searching for something that is just out of reach, but everything begins to look the same.
And before you know it, you are not really living your life anymore. You are merely managing it.
It reminds me of remodeling a bathroom. One small change leads to another, then something else no longer matches, and before you know it, the project has expanded far beyond what you intended. That is what this started to feel like.
So I made a small change. I started reading fiction.
It was a tiny step, but it represented something bigger. It was a way of letting go, just a little. Letting my mind rest instead of constantly trying to figure things out.
What this looked like for me
From there, I began to simplify. I started to pare down my supplements, not out of fear but out of clarity. I kept what felt necessary and let the rest go. I focused on my sleep, not perfect sleep but consistent sleep, getting into a manageable routine.
I also started going outside first thing in the morning (with Cooper, my dog) before coffee, just getting sunlight. Nothing complicated, nothing new, just something simple my body craved.
I stopped constantly trying to fix myself and started focusing more on gratitude, especially with my family. And I leaned into my relationship with Jesus, trusting that maybe healing was not something I had to control so tightly.
That gave me a sense of freedom, just enough to start creating again. Writing. Drawing. Doing something simply because it brought something back to life in me.
I told myself I would give it a year. A year to stop chasing every new answer and come back to what I already knew:
There is no magic solution.
My body just needed time and space to heal without all the extra noise.
Because the truth is, our bodies do not respond well to constant change. They respond to consistency, to rhythm, to safety. They respond to being cared for, not constantly managed.
I am not against information. If you are reading this, you probably are not either. Maybe you are even searching for something that will help you feel better.
But at some point, more information stops being helpful and starts becoming noise. And for me, healing did not begin when I found the next thing.
It began when I simplified, slowed down, and gave my body the chance to respond.
