Persistence

At the beginning of the year, I chose a word to inspire my writing for 2024 as part of a writer's challenge on Instagram.

Persistence / Noun

Definition from the Britannica Dictionary:

The quality that allows someone to continue doing something, or trying to do something, even though it is difficult or opposed by other people

Looking back, I don't think I could have chosen a more appropriate word. Not only for my writing, but also for my life over the past few months.

January started out with a bunch of exciting firsts in the world of my writing. In November 2023, I decided to apply for a writer's residency in France with very low expectations of being accepted, but I took a chance. It caught me off guard when I received an email one afternoon congratulating me on my acceptance. I stared at the email in disbelief, the imposter syndrome creeping in to suppress my excitement. Almost one year since my acceptance and it still doesn't feel real. Hopefully, that will change as I move closer to my residency date in September 2025.

Trying to hold onto that spark, I submitted my first entry to the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge. Again, I tried not to have high expectations, but I pushed myself to write a 2,500-word short story in a genre I had never tackled before. That same short story became my first Top Story on Vocal, kickstarting a year filled with seven Top Stories! More than I could have ever expected since I've always doubted my writing.

I was off to a good start at the beginning of the year. The small bits of validation encouraged me to move forward, building my self-confidence as a writer. I even made the decision to join an in-person writing class in the spring, pulling myself out of my comfort zone to practice reading my writing out loud to a group. I was learning that my persistence and consistency in my writing was starting to pay off.

Life became more complicated by the end of March. My calendar was dotted with vet appointments for my senior dog who was diagnosed with a Grade 3 heart murmur and now needed daily medication. My anxiety spiked and my stressed immune system led to my own visits to the doctor.

I was gifted one of the most severe sinus infections for my birthday, a few days before I was set to leave for a writing retreat. The pain was so intense I could not lift my head. Determined to attend my retreat, I loaded myself with antibiotics and Mucinex. I delayed my arrival by a day but still managed to push through. And I am so glad I did. The writing retreat, which included a publishing workshop in NYC, provided invaluable insight into publishing, which has helped it seem just a little less intimidating.

With barely a break, I was back on the train traveling to a work conference. I was not prepared for another week filled with long days and socializing. I just hoped I could make it through my first cross-industry presentation in front of a large audience. Luckily, my persistent sinus pressure was just a dull ache, and I managed to give my presentation without launching myself into a coughing fit on stage. As someone who highly dislikes public speaking and prefers not to be the center of attention, I considered it a success. I was happy that my presentation was finally over and didn't have to worry about making a fool of myself in front of my colleagues (at least for the time being).

Writing was not at the forefront of my mind after an exhausting few days and still not feeling my best, but I made it to the second round of the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge. It was another small win that further ignited my motivation to keep writing, even when I felt at a creative loss.

Overall, the first half of the year was productive, motivating, hopeful, although my own health proved to be an obstacle I had to navigate.

But things took a turn at the beginning of July. The sudden death of a coworker hit me harder than I expected. I didn't know him well, but the tragedy of how he took his own life stuck with me. It pulled me back into unwanted memories, a time when a loved one struggled with mental health. A time I would rather not relive. I became distracted by these haunting memories, unable to find the energy to do normal things. I was sinking into the quicksand with nothing to pull me out.

Totally depleted, my immune system opened the door to an unwelcomed guest. What I had thought was another nasty sinus infection turned out to be COVID. Somehow, I had avoided it for four years, through the height of the pandemic, and it decided to take advantage of my weaken immune system the week before a much-needed summer vacation. There was no way I was going to let it mess up my plans, so I decided to take the antiviral medication and rest as much as I could.

I also had to craft a 500-word fiction story for the first round of the NYC Midnight 500-Word Fiction Challenge. In a complete brain fog, I almost forfeited. I didn't have the energy to write. But in the final hours before the deadline, I decided to try. I submitted my story with minutes to spare, not overly confident about my attempt, but still proud that I completed something I wouldn't have written otherwise.

Luckily, the worst of my COVID symptoms had abated, I had finished my round of antivirals and was past the recommended isolation time by the time I boarded my flight to South Carolina. I powered through a day of traveling, although I felt completely drained. Thankfully, I was able to enjoy my vacation time with family, until the dreaded sinus headaches returned a week later, prompting a telehealth call and more medication.

From vacation, I went straight to an educational course for work, still plagued by consistent sinus headaches. Again, I pushed through, having little choice but to continue through each day doing the best I could to function and pay attention to hours of scientific information flashing before my tired eyes.

At this point, I knew I had been upgraded to a first-class ticket on the burnout train without any idea of how long the trip would last or where I was truly headed. Would the train run out of steam before it reached the end of the track and fell off a cliff? Who knew? My overtaxed mind and body slogged through each day with little energy and ability to focus on work. And forget about reading or writing. All I could do was slump onto the couch at the end of each day, too exhausted to move or think.

Chronic sinus issues led to more antibiotics, steroids, Mucinex, Zyrtec, Flonase, Vicks, Emergen-C, you name it. An endoscopy and a CT scan revealed the need for surgery, albeit a minor one to fix a severely deviated septum. But the last surgery I had left me emotionally scarred from multiple trips back to the hospital and visits to specialists following unexpected complications. Needless to say, the thought of another surgery put me on edge. The surgery isn't critical, so I decided to push it to early 2025, trying to give myself a reprieve before dealing with the stress of a procedure and recovery.

Looking back on it now, I had persistent sinus headaches for well over two months. It became my new normal, dealing with unrelenting pain that made it difficult to concentrate. Each day, I was becoming less and less productive at work. My writing was sporadic and kept to short poems or stories instead of working on longer fiction pieces like my novel.

By the end of September, my sinus headaches had finally subsided, and I felt somewhat better, but the exhaustion had fully set it. I was running on empty, waiting for the train to run out of steam (or tracks). I had a writing retreat in California to look forward to at the end of October, but I was already dreading the hassle of traveling across the country. How was I going to make it through a total of six flights, hours of driving, days of socializing and outdoor activities, and a three-hour time change when I could barely make it through a simple day at home?

Then, one phone call flipped everything upside down. The anxiety of attending my writing retreat was instantly replaced with something much heavier.

The tremor in my boyfriend's voice sent ripples of panic through my chest. Immediately, I knew. After months of hope, the possibility of his mother's recovery vanished in the wind. Her declining health coincided with the changing of seasons, a progression of grief over just several weeks. The days grew colder, and the nights stretched longer.

The rest of the world fell away. The typical day-to-day tasks didn't matter anymore. Not work, not the garbage waiting to be put out, not the dishes overcrowding the sink. Energy couldn't be expended on such trivial things. Only the basic survival needs remained. Only eating and sleeping, going through the minimal requirements for maintaining the body and trying to ease the mind from a state of despair.

I recently read Amy Lin's heartbreakingly beautiful memoir, Here After, on her grief following the tragic death of her husband. In one of her vignettes, she describes how the body goes into fight-or-flight mode in response to grief, how cortisol levels rise, how blood is shunted to the parts of the brain necessary for survival while other parts, like the frontal lobes, are starved. The brain suppresses the functions associated with memory, communication, concentration, problem-solving, and creativity. So many functions that seem essential in life, but not when faced with such a traumatic event. And this grief fight-or-flight mode can last for months.

The death of my boyfriend's mother was a traumatic event. For him, for his family, for me. Each of us handling our emotions differently. Each trying to find a way to persist through the pain, the grief, the disappointment. Trying to persevere. To continue, to push on without expectations, to be accepting of how others find their way through their emotions, to appreciate the beauty in life even in the face of tragedy. The suffering reminds us how to appreciate certain things in life. Like the evolution of treasured relationships, mutual love, trust, and respect that remains unwavering through the toughest moments.

I find that the strongest emotions, such as true happiness or utter devastation, bring out the strongest writing. The depth of our thoughts while experiencing these emotions can trigger the most profound words when we least expect it.

So, in 2024, I didn't make it past the second round of the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge or the first round of the NYC Midnight 500-Word Fiction Challenge. I struggled with my health more than any other time in recent years. I didn't win any Vocal challenges. I didn't make as much progress with my novel as I had planned. I've fallen off of Instagram. I lost a beloved family member too soon. I've retreated back into myself. I'm completely burnt out.

But, in 2024, I challenged myself to write poems and stories I didn't think I was capable of writing. I wrote seven Top Stories. I gave myself grace in times of frustration. I gained recognition for my writing. I prioritized my health, physical and mental. I cherished moments with family, happy and heartbreaking. I took care of those close to me. I still find the motivation to keep going.

I showed myself I am worthy, I am capable, I am strong.

I can persevere.

I can persist.