Post by Nadica (She/Her) on Nov 23, 2024 3:05:47 GMT
Celebrating small victories: Living with Long COVID - published Nov 22, 2024
I never thought I’d be proud of myself for walking five minutes down the road for a cappuccino. A cappuccino in the sun—something so many people take for granted—became my little victory today. For those of us living with long COVID, even small moments like this can feel monumental, the same way a marathon finish might feel for others. It wasn’t just about the cappuccino; it was about glimpsing a bit of normalcy, a tiny pleasure, despite the breathlessness symptoms and the symptoms and the ever-present risk of post-exertional malaise and fatigue later on.
A few years ago, even imagining this simple outing would have been impossible. I was almost completely bed-bound, with energy that vanished after the smallest tasks, and days marked by constant fatigue, brain fog, and limited mobility. Long COVID has transformed how I view success and self-care. Today, that short walk felt like climbing a mountain—except instead of reaching the summit, I reached a warm cappuccino. And yes, I celebrated it like the big deal it was.
For anyone living with long COVID or chronic illness, you know that feeling. Once, I would have gone for a walk, grabbed coffee, and gone about my day without even thinking about it. But now? Now it’s a major accomplishment, and it comes with a mix of emotions: pride, joy, a bit of sadness, and, honestly, some guilt. There’s always that nagging question of whether this moment of happiness will come at the cost of extra fatigue later. It’s an emotional balancing act, choosing self-care when you know there might be consequences.
That’s one of the hardest parts about living with long COVID symptoms: the unpredictability, the energy budgeting, the constant reminder that simple pleasures can have lasting impacts. Onlookers don’t often see this invisible struggle. They may think, “Oh, a five-minute walk? That’s nothing,” or “But you look fine!” But for many of us, even a short outing can feel like a half-marathon in disguise.
Living with long COVID teaches us to redefine success and resilience. Before, I didn’t exactly feel proud for making my own tea or putting on a pijama or take a shower. But now, every small step forward matters. These aren’t just ordinary tasks; they’re benchmarks of progress in a life changed by chronic illness. And I believe they deserve recognition.
Here’s something I wish everyone with long COVID knew: it’s okay to celebrate your small victories. Whether it’s making it outside for coffee, taking a brief walk, or just being out in the sunlight, these moments of normalcy are worth it. So many of us have been taught to celebrate only the big achievements—a new job, a vacation, a fitness goal—but with chronic illness, sometimes just getting out of bed is an achievement in itself. And if you feel proud? Good. You should be.
Yes, there may be consequences. There might be more fatigue tomorrow, or you might need to rest for the day. But these moments are worth something, a reminder that joy and self-care are still part of life, even if they look different now.
So, here’s to us—the ones who celebrate the wins that don’t fit neatly into an Instagram reel. To everyone who carefully paced and find a glimpse of normality through the fatigue, the fog, the uncertainty, and the guilt just to find a bit of happiness in the day, even if it meant paying for it later. These are our victories, and no one can take them from us. Every walk to grab a cappuccino, every moment of sunlight on our faces, every tiny victory—we’ve earned them all.
Drop a comment or send me a message—let’s lift each other up and find joy in these everyday victories.
( wrote in 2023 and remained in the diary for a while)
Disclaimer: This article is based on personal experience and is not intended as medical advice. Always consult with a qualified healthcare provider for guidance tailored to your individual health needs. If you suffer from severe Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), do not push yourself beyond your current capabilities until you have established a more stable baseline.
I never thought I’d be proud of myself for walking five minutes down the road for a cappuccino. A cappuccino in the sun—something so many people take for granted—became my little victory today. For those of us living with long COVID, even small moments like this can feel monumental, the same way a marathon finish might feel for others. It wasn’t just about the cappuccino; it was about glimpsing a bit of normalcy, a tiny pleasure, despite the breathlessness symptoms and the symptoms and the ever-present risk of post-exertional malaise and fatigue later on.
A few years ago, even imagining this simple outing would have been impossible. I was almost completely bed-bound, with energy that vanished after the smallest tasks, and days marked by constant fatigue, brain fog, and limited mobility. Long COVID has transformed how I view success and self-care. Today, that short walk felt like climbing a mountain—except instead of reaching the summit, I reached a warm cappuccino. And yes, I celebrated it like the big deal it was.
For anyone living with long COVID or chronic illness, you know that feeling. Once, I would have gone for a walk, grabbed coffee, and gone about my day without even thinking about it. But now? Now it’s a major accomplishment, and it comes with a mix of emotions: pride, joy, a bit of sadness, and, honestly, some guilt. There’s always that nagging question of whether this moment of happiness will come at the cost of extra fatigue later. It’s an emotional balancing act, choosing self-care when you know there might be consequences.
That’s one of the hardest parts about living with long COVID symptoms: the unpredictability, the energy budgeting, the constant reminder that simple pleasures can have lasting impacts. Onlookers don’t often see this invisible struggle. They may think, “Oh, a five-minute walk? That’s nothing,” or “But you look fine!” But for many of us, even a short outing can feel like a half-marathon in disguise.
Living with long COVID teaches us to redefine success and resilience. Before, I didn’t exactly feel proud for making my own tea or putting on a pijama or take a shower. But now, every small step forward matters. These aren’t just ordinary tasks; they’re benchmarks of progress in a life changed by chronic illness. And I believe they deserve recognition.
Here’s something I wish everyone with long COVID knew: it’s okay to celebrate your small victories. Whether it’s making it outside for coffee, taking a brief walk, or just being out in the sunlight, these moments of normalcy are worth it. So many of us have been taught to celebrate only the big achievements—a new job, a vacation, a fitness goal—but with chronic illness, sometimes just getting out of bed is an achievement in itself. And if you feel proud? Good. You should be.
Yes, there may be consequences. There might be more fatigue tomorrow, or you might need to rest for the day. But these moments are worth something, a reminder that joy and self-care are still part of life, even if they look different now.
So, here’s to us—the ones who celebrate the wins that don’t fit neatly into an Instagram reel. To everyone who carefully paced and find a glimpse of normality through the fatigue, the fog, the uncertainty, and the guilt just to find a bit of happiness in the day, even if it meant paying for it later. These are our victories, and no one can take them from us. Every walk to grab a cappuccino, every moment of sunlight on our faces, every tiny victory—we’ve earned them all.
Drop a comment or send me a message—let’s lift each other up and find joy in these everyday victories.
( wrote in 2023 and remained in the diary for a while)
Disclaimer: This article is based on personal experience and is not intended as medical advice. Always consult with a qualified healthcare provider for guidance tailored to your individual health needs. If you suffer from severe Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), do not push yourself beyond your current capabilities until you have established a more stable baseline.