Being in your 20s teaches you that the world does not let up; it just keeps spinning and spinning and spinning. This constant grind and associated stress are deeply embedded in our society; the only thing that slowed me down was my chronic illness. When the body and mind disconnect in this way, we are left to make do with the capacity we have. For me, this means interrogating a lifestyle that no longer works for me and doing my best to navigate this weird liminal space I now find myself in.Â
As I move toward graduating with my bachelor’s degree, I have felt this unending pressure to keep pushing myself. Taking 18 credits, working three jobs, and finding time to connect with people, cook dinner, sleep, and do homework — I feel like my brain is constantly running at 100 miles per hour. The craziest part of it is that everyone around me seems to be in the same boat: ripping their hair out from stress, eating on the walk to class, and sleeping in the library. Grind culture feeds on new opportunities, overloaded plates, and encourages us to put work and achievement above everything creative and good. This constant push towards growth without rest or reflection leads to burnout, wavering boundaries, and health issues. It’s almost like our bodies aren’t meant to function under this much stress. The only reason I have come to acknowledge this unhealthy lifestyle is that my body quite literally gave out on me.Â
I was diagnosed with a chronic illness at 21 years old, which forced me to realize that my brain and body were completely disconnected from one another. I have always been a person who enjoys being both mentally and physically busy. Honestly, I work the best this way. Despite working well and feeling fulfilled under all of this pressure, these prolonged periods of stress can lead to inflammation and a weakened immune system. In my case, this led to my diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis. I woke up one day, and my body decided for me that I could not continue under these conditions.Â
I was heartbroken. I lived for being booked and busy. I prided myself on it; our culture prides itself on it. When the stress of all of this busyness finally got to me, I found myself unable to walk in the mornings — my body was in severe pain. The joints in my fingers would become so stiff and painful that typing on my computer, writing, the thing that I love more than anything in this world, hurt me. I remember sitting and staring at an article I was supposed to be writing, crying. I couldn’t keep doing this to myself, despite wanting to push forward.Â
This diagnosis has changed the course of my life, and not just because of the therapy I will have to undergo, or the medication I will have to take: my outlook on life has had to change to continue living comfortably. Grind culture has pushed me to a breaking point that I never thought would come. Through this experience, I have had to negotiate with myself continuously: try to find a happy medium between my brain and my body, which has proved to be incredibly difficult (partly because I am so stubborn).Â
The key lesson I have learned from this is that sometimes, things that seem so natural and ingrained in us are harmful and unsupportive. Sometimes it takes a shocking moment, like a diagnosis, to wake us up to face this reality; but sometimes (hopefully), all you need is someone else’s story to push you towards balance instead. I hope that’s the case for you, reader. It is okay to slow down and take a breath, or to ask for an extension, or even miss a class. You are not defined by what you can produce or what you can handle on your shoulders. You do what you do, and I’m sure it’s beautiful!Â