How many times does it take to learn a lesson?

In December 2020, I caught COVID and it crushed me. Non-stop sweating, fever, an inability to get my head up for long periods of time, and intense fatigue. But the hardest symptom to deal with? A complete breakdown of my soul to its most core elements. My ego was almost unable to exist. Left with nothing but lying in bed with my thoughts, a connection to the soul followed.

In those two weeks I started to realize I couldn’t rely on my old ways of thinking – my obsession with my work, my need to be “somebody,” and the biggest fear of all that engulfed me – that no matter what I did, I would never be enough. It wouldn’t be until a full-fledged breakdown on Christmas Day watching A Muppet Christmas Carol and Soul that those questions, would be answered.

I had chased an ever elusive high through flashy actions in a futile attempt for validation that would never satisfy me. I tied all my value to what I did, rather than to who I was and who I wanted to be for me and my loved ones. All these things that led to losing a relationship in which for the first time I felt so deeply loved yet couldn’t accept it. I distanced myself from family and friends, and felt constantly empty inside.

I wanted to heal my mind, spirit, and soul. An if I wanted to heal, I had to be as radically honest with myself as I could. I couldn’t just be honest with myself. I had to take action in a different way than my brash, achievement focused mind was accustomed to.

Allegory and healing through action.

If something intentionally and spiritually aligned, I did it. The less experience I had, the more against my cultivated order, the better. Triathlons, ballet, and karate became new interests that each had a profound effect on me. Life became about lessons and not accomplishments.

The next year and a half was a discovery of what it meant to love myself with every fiber of my being. To release control as best I could, and to live with what felt aligned with my heart. I stopped being defensive about the reality of who I was for good and bad. Owning every part of me along the way.

In releasing control and expectation of who I thought I was supposed to be, I was surpassing who I believed I could be. Even though there were hard times and days aplenty, I kept meeting myself with, “This is what it means to be alive.” All the lessons were, in my perception, being learned.

That hubris that I felt I was learning everything I needed to, that’s when my soul started to eat away at me again.

What was seemingly a common cold and a negative test, soon turned into my second bout with COVID. That “cold” devolved quickly. The negative test turned into a positive, and COVID started to take hold of me once again. This didn’t feel like the first version of COVID.

And it wasn’t.

A few days into it, I decided to go on a drive with my mom to get out of the house. Mile by mile, I felt myself wanting to lay my head down somewhere, anywhere. My mom parked. I tried to get out of the passenger’s seat and I couldn’t. Driven by the building worry in my mom’s voice, I mustered the energy to get out of the car.

Seconds later my body instinctually told me to just lay down. Unable to get up from my parents’ driveway after a fit of dry heaving and coughing, I laid there in the ninety-degree heat, feeling a sense of relief. Nothing in my brain telling me to get up off the concrete. I asked my mom to take me to the hospital. Perhaps not believing I was in as bad of shape as I was, she wanted to call my doctor first. The doctor confirmed what I felt and said that I needed to go right away.

I soon found myself being wheeled to the COVID patient section of the hospital’s temporary outdoor set-up, lying face up on a bench – dry heaving and coughing uncontrollably, and most of all, just feeling so completely broken down in a way that I had never felt before.

As I laid on the bench outside the hospital, bordering on what felt like unconsciousness – I had what I can only describe as a deeply spiritual moment. One where the world around me became nothingness and I asked myself, “If you were to die tomorrow, would you have any regrets?” Perhaps a bit dramatic, but something that just arose naturally.

When I don’t pay attention, the universe delivers ways to make sure I do. ”Whatever I resist persists,” kept coming to mind in the days leading up to my positive test and during my recovery. The hard part was that I had no idea what I was resisting. I felt so tuned in, so aware, growth was so rapid that I felt like I was allowing and accepting all information.

That hubris of knowing lessons are being learned, that’s usually a flag for me to pay attention, as I rest on my laurels, believing the job to be done. Though it never is. Something was off and I wasn’t open to the lessons.

The relationship I lost before my first bout of COVID felt unresolved and unsettled. I agonized over it for months, and tried to resolve it by forcing reconciliation on my timeline, in my way. Trying to prove that I was now worthy of love and that I was healed. Not yet understanding a fraction of what that person needed or if they even wanted it. In the succeeding days, I laid in silence and sickness on my parents’ couch or on the concrete next to their pool, trying to alleviate how I felt.

Often unsure if I was fading in and out of consciousness, more moments of mini-enlightenment continued to be revealed to me – “The life that you committed yourself to, is that still happening? Are you running from things and opportunities that could be completely magical in ways that you don’t expect and teach you more about yourself? Are you still trying to have control of the outcomes, and if you are, how did that turn out for you before?”

The process of intentional action would bring wisdom, even if it terrified me. That almost unexplainable way that in moments of clarity, allows us to walk into the unknown with a quiet confidence. Or as I like to describe it for myself, “Being in a dark forest, having no idea where I am or where I’m going, but feeling like I should continue because I’m on The Yellow Brick Road. Trusting I’ll end up where I’m meant to be.”

I don’t want to rest on the laurels of an unproven job well done that resides in my head. I want to stay committed to that openness of curiosity of both the known and unknown, so I can better deliver compassion and love to the world around me.

After my experiences with COVID a question that I continue to keep front of mind is “Do I need to be at my most broken so there’s no choice but to evolve?” Sometimes I’m destined to repeat the past until the lesson lands even harder. Often it’s just a best guess. Sometimes it’s a spiritual moment of clarity. Regardless, taking the leap of faith and the next step is what matters. It’s that step in which the path to wisdom lies.

With every step, I’ll still make perceptively bad choices. Bad things will still happen to me. It’s life and I am human. I’m learning each day that I don’t need to reach my breaking point. I can take the step before I break. Going into the things that scare me most, in whatever form they look like, may be the greatest path of all. One that leads me to a life of fulfillment and peace in which my heart and soul’s greatest needs and desires are met.

Hopefully, I won’t have to end up on my parents’ driveway to get there along the way.