Failure is a byproduct of bravery.
Read that again.
(Um, that last line was for me.)
I had slightly more energy than usual, so decided to use it all (and then some) on creating a new program to help more men. Months of work and real money, spent in tiny unpredictable windows between crashes—that’s more than half a facelift right there, people. (Can you even get half a facelift? Asking for a friend who’s exhausted.)
But worse, my health. Even simply directing my IT with instructions lead to a total crash. Major setback. More on this later.
And the venture? In its intended form… it failed. {Resigned sigh.}
Quit?
I decide to read Quit by Annie Duke and feel like she’s personally side-eyeing me the whole time. 
We humans love throwing good money, time, and sanity after bad because “we’ve already invested so much.”
Sunk cost fallacy, baby. I’m ruthless about it in relationships (now)—show me who you are and if you suck, the door is right there hitting you in the ass.
Business? Apparently, I’m still a sucker for the “maybe if I invest more” trap.
I loathe quitting and letting people down but…
Sometimes quitting is the smartest, kindest thing you can do for yourself if no one else.
Failing is good. It means you’re still in the game. It means you had the balls to try something different. Technically, I don’t have balls, but I did try.
Now, the program is repackaged into something better for everyone: lower cost, unlimited access, and no drain on me… because even though I loved the idea of being personally involved, my cuppeth is mofo emptyeth. I can’t even manage my previous workload.
I decide (am forced) to take time off to recalibrate, recharge, re-evaluate.
I fail that, too.
After a week of unproductively staring at the ceiling while listening to a C-PTSD audiobook in case it’s all in my psyche, and because—hello!—I’m compelled to be productive, I finally scrape my butt off the sofa (couch?) and gather enough spoons to go do stuff in the real world.
But instead, I spend the next month managing the revamping of my programs, systems, website; spend four days helping a family member clean her rental property (with a break on day three and only 2.5 hours a day, but still); and take a 3 day online workshop on stock options trading.
Mistake.
Big mistake. Huge.
Another crash. This time two weeks of complete mental and physical lethargy. Actually, it was 13 days. On day 14, I feel almost normal (my normal) and go to the gym because I feel fat and gross. (Priorities, right?)
Erring on the side of caution, I use half the weight, reps, sets I used a month ago, and feel OK after.
The next day: I’m back on the sofa. (It’s been another week and counting.)
This is really f’ing annoying. I used to be fit, healthy, vibrant. Now, I’m a couch potato. Call me Princess Potato.
No really, call me Princess Potato, PP! Not because I wet myself, but because while on that couch (sofa?) I rediscover Snapchat and my (new) alter ego, Princess Potato. (See Snaps below.)
After a week of exploring various Snapchat filters and testing them out on friends, I wonder if I could make a living creating silly Snaps. I could be Sally Snapbroker. Or Single Old Lady Giving Relationship Advice. (I’d need a snappier name. Suggestions?)Reality Land: unpredictable energy and weeks-long crashes are not a business plan, but I’m grasping here.
My imagination still works even though the rest of me is running on fumes.
Speaking of which, after all this time, I finally have what I think is the correct official mainstream medical diagnosis: ME/CFS. More on that in the next blog. When I recover enough. And probably after more Snapchat.
What we’ve re-learned:
You can only do what you can do. Learn the lesson, lick your wounds, pivot the program, and move the bleep on. Oh, and slow the bleep down, lady. Onward and upward. (Also, AJ is cray cray.)
Homework:
Chill TFO. Not: make a goal list. Not: [insert productive task here]. Just be FFS.
Thank you for being here. Let me know if you want to see more of the silly Snaps I created in my Creator downtime. I answer all public comments here on my personal blog. xo
Thumbnail edit using Gemini AI.
p.s. My condition is real, but even I have a difficult time accepting it after over a decade of feeling gaslit by doctors telling me it’s all in my head. Forgive them for they know not what they do? Sigh.
