Facing the Mountain

What to do when your mind is overwhelmed by uncertainty

Photo by Daniel Leone on Unsplash

Every once in a while, my mind short-circuits. It happened several times after my LGMD diagnosis. It happened at the beginning of COVID. And it happened again three weeks ago.

To be clear, this time wasn’t nearly as bad, but it was no less frustrating to deal with. It wasn’t burnout per se, since I wasn’t working myself into the ground beforehand. Rather, it was more a case of overwhelm — of being so overloaded with fear, and logistics, and the weight of the unknown, that my mind made the executive decision to disengage for a while.

It’s not a fun place to be. And, as it turns out, it’s terrible for creativity, which is why I haven’t written a post these last three weeks.

But I got through it, as evidenced by this newsletter today. What follows is what I learned about the experience, and what helped me get back on track.

Facing the mountain

To use an analogy, this feeling of overwhelm is like standing at the base of a mountain and realizing you have to climb it.

The sheer scale of the mountain is intimidating — and that’s only what you can see. Shrouded in fog, the summit is actually thousands of feet higher. Your instincts say to run in the other direction, only you can’t turn around because the path is snowed out. (Or it’s muddy. Or the boats are burned. Or there’s trolls. I didn’t fully think this part through.) The only direction is forward.

Except you can’t move. The mountain is so tall, the path ahead so grueling, that you freeze up completely.

That’s what this feeling is like.

My “mountain” is composed of many challenges, some exciting, others terrifying. If geologists analyzed the underlying rock, they would find worries about my future, the uncertainty of my LGMD progression, and what care will look like for me long-term. They would excavate anxieties about living independently, finding love, being financially secure, aging parents, and the wider world. And if they penetrated deeply enough, they’d unearth the stubborn hope of being a full-time writer alongside the fossilized remains of lost dreams and regrets.

With so much still to be decided about my future, I put way too much pressure on myself to figure it all out. It’s exhausting. Then, when I have a particularly stressful day — like what happened three weeks ago — my mind goes blank. The synapses stop firing. And the climb stops before it begins.

And yet, the mountain is still there. It doesn’t disappear just because I don’t want to face it.

And I must face it.

Maybe you’ve felt the same way in your life, or you’re feeling this way now. Your mountain might be composed of a health diagnosis, a struggling marriage, financial pressures, the state of the world, your mental health, or something else entirely.

But whatever rock your mountain is made of, there are two important things to know: you’re not alone, and eventually, you’ll find the resolve to make the climb.

Reaching the summit isn’t guaranteed

There’s one more thing to say before we go into the “how-to” portion of this piece.

When you make the climb, your inner critic will try to thwart you. “You’ll never make it to the top,” it will say.

And as annoying as this voice is, it’s right: you might not make it. This uncertainty, layered on top of all the other uncertainty, deepens the existential dread.

I know this feeling very well. It accompanies me every day, in every action I take. No matter how determined I am to make the climb, I know there’s a nonzero chance that I’ll get caught in a freak snowstorm and be frozen in place until I thaw 20,000 years later.

I can almost see it now: “We’ve found Striving Man,” the archaeologists will announce in a press conference. “Poor guy died while typing at his computer, coffee cup in hand, with a half-eaten sleeve of Fig Newtons.”

Joking aside, this nagging doubt is tough, and there’s no easy answer.

But that’s life. It’s one long exercise in uncertainty. It’s forging ahead without knowing the ultimate outcome.

So why try? Because sometimes, things do work out. The mountaintop may be far away, but it’s not impossible to reach.

Photo by Jerry Zhang on Unsplash

How I re-started the climb

So how did I break free of my mental paralysis and begin my ascent? Unfortunately, there was no grand epiphany or simple solution. What ultimately worked was a series of small actions and mindset shifts that gradually dissipated the overwhelm and recharged my batteries.

Here are the ones that worked best. Whether you’re stuck at base camp, or running out of energy mid-climb, I believe that these can help you, too:

1. Remember the best-case scenario.

It’s so easy to bemoan our lack of resilience, or denigrate our capabilities, or dwell on how things can go wrong. It’s also easy to believe our inner voice telling us we’ll never make it to the top.

But this thinking leaves out an important perspective: What if everything goes right?

As in, what if we are strong enough to handle our challenges and meet the moment?

What if, in all the uncertainty, a new opportunity emerges?

What if our best days are ahead of us?

When I think of the future, I default to catastrophe. But when I remind myself that the best-case scenario can happen too, I’m filled with hope. And hope is oxygen in high elevations.

2. Live in the present moment.

I’m currently reading The Power of Now, by Eckhart Tolle. This book has done wonders in helping me center myself in the present.

As Tolle says, so much discontentment and unhappiness comes when we transport into the future or ruminate on the past. And yet, the present is the only sure possession we have, and more importantly, living in present awareness gives us the freedom to be happy right now. We don’t need to — and shouldn’t — wait until we’ve climbed the mountain to feel satisfied. There is joy in the climb, even when the climb is uncertain and filled with peril.

3. Focus on one step at a time.

Why is it scary to face the mountain? Because we count up the millions of steps and try to summon the energy to climb it all at once.

The only way to climb the mountain is to put one foot in front of the other. We don’t need to know about obstacles thousands of feet away — we’ll deal with them as they come.

If you have an ambitious goal, break it down into smaller milestones. If you’re in a mountain of debt, pay it off one paycheck at a time. And if you're completely lost, the first step might simply be asking for help.

Now, when I think of my future, and I’m overwhelmed by uncertainty, I say to myself, “Take the next step.” That’s all I need to do, and at the end of the day, all I can do.

4. Give it a name.

Call it the mountain, the messy middle, Day Two, the Long Game, or something else. But call it something.

A name is discrete and tangible, and when you say it in a stressful moment, it loses some of its power over you.

5. Remember your awesomeness.

When I feel low, I read over my Personal Highlight Reel — the achievements, milestones, everyday victories, and nice things people have said to me over the years.

It exists for just this scenario.

I’ve looked at mine several times in the last few weeks. It’s a handy reminder that I am capable. I am competent. And I’ve been through hard times before, and will do so again.

6. Lean on others.

It’s impossible to climb a mountain of this magnitude alone. Let your friends give you pep talks when you’re feeling low. Lean on mentors for advice. Rely on your family for love.

7. Get better sleep.

I don’t have the best sleep habits, which contributed to the problem. This is why, in the last few weeks, I’ve recommitted to going to bed earlier, curbing my caffeine intake, and reading before bed.

Surprise, surprise: when I get a good night’s sleep, the mountain looks a little less daunting in the morning.

8. Be kind to yourself.

Resolving to climb the mountain doesn’t mean you need to make record time, push through exhaustion, trudge through blizzards, and fight the Yeti with your bare hands.

If you’re feeling low, take a break. Use these other strategies. And above all, treat yourself with kindness and compassion.

We’re human. Life is hard. We’re going to screw up and make mistakes along the way. Don’t blame yourself if your mind is overwhelmed by fear and uncertainty. It doesn’t help.

Climbing again

Maybe the last three weeks needed to happen to give me the right perspective. Maybe this was God reminding me that I can’t do everything alone, and that there’s only so much I can control.

Because, if we’re being honest, when I look back at what happened, I was trying to do everything myself. I was trying to think fifty steps ahead and control every outcome.

In doing so, I subconsciously blamed myself for my struggles. That wasn’t — and will never be — healthy.

Although this experience was painful to go through, at least now I’m back to climbing — a little wiser, a little more accepting that if I don’t reach the summit, I’ll be okay.

And I brought plenty of Fig Newtons.