Welcome to Tough Love. We鈥檙e answering your questions about dating, breakups, and everything in between. Our advice giver is Blair Braverman, dogsled racer and author of and . Have a question of your own? Write to us at聽toughlove@outsideinc.com.
I know you normally answer questions about relationships, but I have a question about my relationship with my own brain.聽
Long story short, about a decade ago I had a severe traumatic brain injury while wakeboarding that I鈥檝e mostly recovered from, but it鈥檚 left me with some recurring chronic fatigue issues.聽
I鈥檝e somehow managed to still do a lot of backcountry ski touring, but having to be so aware of my energy levels and my body has resulted in a really nasty but noisy part of my brain that spends the whole journey up, and sometimes the days and hours before, telling me I鈥檒l never make it, that I鈥檓 too tired or that I鈥檓 doing myself permanent damage. It鈥檚 like every step up requires making the effort twice over: I have to convince myself that the voice is wrong and that I can do it, and then I have to fight the voice and make my body actually do it.聽
Despite this, I鈥檝e managed to do a ton of touring and bagged some peaks, including a few across Japan. I鈥檝e got skills and training and, depending on the month, decent fitness, but it feels like it takes me twice as much effort to do it as anyone else, and I already started the journey exhausted. Is this at all normal? Any advice on how to tell myself to shut the hell up?聽
What you鈥檙e going through both is and isn鈥檛 normal, which is an incredibly frustrating answer, I know. It鈥檚 not normal because you鈥檝e (mostly) recovered from a severe traumatic brain injury, which means you鈥檝e been through a heck of a lot鈥physically, mentally, the whole shebang. You鈥檝e faced challenges that most people can鈥檛 even imagine. That鈥檚 exceptional, in the true meaning of the word: your experience makes you an exception from the norm. It speaks to your toughness, your patience, your grit.
Now you have to put in a lot more effort to do things you love. I relate to your story because about a decade ago, I contracted Lyme and anaplasmosis from a tick bite, and my energy was severely limited for about two years, although at the time I feared it would last forever. I went from once hiking 70 miles in a day, when I put in maximum effort, to suddenly needing to put in that same maximum effort to make lunch. And when you drag yourself to the kitchen and make a sandwich, there鈥檚 no one congratulating you. No one鈥檚 proud. No one tells you to take the rest of the day off. You can鈥檛 mention it casually years later, like I just did with the 70-mile hike, to get people to understand that you really, really know how to push yourself. It鈥檚 thankless and frustrating and sad.
One of the biggest things I learned from that experience was that exhaustion and pain are, unfortunately, extremely normal. There are a ton of people for whom so-called 鈥渟imple鈥 things are difficult. People with fatigue, and chronic pain, and mental health challenges, and all of the above. People with any number of visible and invisible struggles.. They鈥檙e around you every day, although they might not talk about it, because they don鈥檛 have the time or the energy or they don鈥檛 expect to be believed. Some of those people are beside you on the mountain, but most of them aren鈥檛. The things you do, and the things you鈥檝e faced in order to do them, are remarkable.
You never know, when you see other people on the trail (or in the grocery line, or at daycare pickup), how much effort they鈥檝e put into getting there. There are folks for whom things are relatively easy athletically, but are hard mentally or socially or financially. Someone might have the means to buy the fanciest equipment, but struggle physically, and need to put in way more training than most others to reach the same level of endurance. Someone else might dream of traveling but face debilitating anxiety every time they leave the house.
I don鈥檛 mean this in a pat, count-your-blessings way, and I鈥檓 certainly not telling you to be grateful because other people have it worse. I just want to tell you that, even when it feels like it, you鈥檙e not completely alone.
I think the biggest question isn鈥檛 about whether climbing or ski touring is harder for you than it is for other people. It is and it isn鈥檛. The question is, do you enjoy it? What parts do you enjoy? What parts don鈥檛 you? What would make it more fun? What would make it hurt less? Would it help to go more slowly? To build in rest days? To choose flatter routes? Accommodations don鈥檛 mean you鈥檙e not tough. In fact, they鈥檙e a sign of mental toughness, because you鈥檙e both recognizing your changing needs and getting over your hangups in order to adjust to them. Maybe what would help most is taking on the same challenges you鈥檙e already doing, but with the context and self-compassion to recognize your own achievements, even the ones that other people can鈥檛 see.
Now, about this voice. This nagging, nasty voice. I brought your question to my friend, Sarah Marshall, of the podcast You鈥檙e Wrong About. Not because she鈥檚 extraordinarily nonjudgmental鈥攁lthough she is鈥攂ut because she has a little technique called the Anxiety Prosecutor that she鈥檚 deployed on a few of my own mental demons. When she read your question, she sent this audio clip in response. I鈥檒l leave you with her voice鈥攁nd with my best wishes and respect.
Audio transcript:
OK, well, I love this question, I struggle with it all the time. Anxiety Prosecutor is something where you imagine that your inner voice of self doubt and self hatred is like a corrupt prosecutor in some kind of horrible stacked case that, if you were reading about it in the news, you鈥檇 be like, 鈥淭hat鈥檚 terrible and unfair!鈥 And you create a defense lawyer for yourself. You can envision this as Ben Matlock, as one of the legal aide lawyers from Law and Order, as Shambala Green (I know there鈥檚 no reason for me to say that, you can鈥檛 put that in, but I just love her). You personify a character in your head who鈥檚 like, 鈥淥bjection! My client has climbed two of the seven summits,鈥 or whatever. 鈥淢y client made polenta last night and they鈥檇 never made it before and it came out great!鈥 or whatever. Creating a character within yourself that objects on your behalf. I鈥檓 sure this is some kind of bastardization of Family Systems Theory as overheard and applied to a lawyer TV show framework, but that has worked well for me in the past. And what I do more lately is imagining the voice of anxiety as a voice that is trying to keep me safe for whatever reason. It鈥檚 trying to keep me safe from tall poppy syndrome, or from the patterns that have resulted in me receiving someone else鈥檚 abusive behavior in the past, trying to save me through pattern recognition and trying to keep me from trying new things because technically it is safest to stay paralyzed and not do anything. It鈥檚 just that you鈥檒l wither and die if you do that. So I like to just talk to that voice in a more motherly way, and not argue with it, and not give fuel to it by doing that, but just accept it as a part of myself that is focused on self-preservation. And just be like, 鈥淗ey, I know that you鈥檙e saying all these things because you鈥檙e trying to help me, but it鈥檚 okay and you don鈥檛 have to and this isn鈥檛 the way to do it. We can just relax and not think about this for a while.鈥 And that doesn鈥檛 work instantaneously; you have to do it every five seconds sometimes. But it鈥檚 a habit, and it feels like a way of creating new patterns in your brain. Take that for what it鈥檚 worth, because I don鈥檛 have great success with any of this, but it helps me a lot.