The year my nervous system collapsed

Photo: Alex Turner (@trickypix)

I was the guy who did everything right.

I lifted. I ran.

I meditated.

I didn’t drink.

I didn’t smoke. I ate clean.

I slept 8 hours a night.

I pushed myself to “be better.”

Like strength could overcome failure.

Or that discipline could protect me.

Then one day my gut collapsed.

Then my bloodwork.

Then my entire nervous system.

24+ months of unpredictable digestion.

10+ pounds of muscle loss.

Chronic pain.

Anxiety.

Depression.

I barely recognized my body or myself.

I tried everything to fix it…

Elimination dieting.

Meditation.

Breathwork.

Gratitude practice.

Physical therapy.

Herbs.

Antibiotics.

I became my own science project.

Saw every kind of doctor.

And tried every kind of protocol.

But nothing worked at first.

Because healing wasn’t something I could force.

Or a puzzle to solve.It was something I had to ride out.

Fearful, uncomfortable, and uncertain.

There was no breakthrough moment.

Just painfully slow steps.

And a blind hope that if I surrendered, my body might finally feel safe enough to heal.

I’m redefining my version of ambition, strength, and health, and how I want to live now.

My body's warning signs I ignored until it was too late

The signs were there.

I just didn’t listen.

☐ Waking up exhausted ☐ Needing more and more caffeine ☐ Getting sick every month ☐ Working out harder when life got harder ☐ Getting thinner and weaker ☐ Persistent soreness

☐ Losing interest in being around people ☐ Not wanting to create ☐ Low motivation ☐ High irritability

These signs weren’t clear or loud to me. But I ignored them either way. And instead of slowing down, I trained harder.

I thought it was “discipline.” It was actually deprivation. And the worst part is: I thought I was doing great.

I wasn’t being strong. I was afraid to rest and be seen as soft. And I punished my body for what I saw as failure.

Now I know that real strength doesn’t ignore signs. It listens closely and doesn’t grind you down. Real strength helps you last.

How I move my body now

I’ve trained for over 20 years. Strength was my identity. But underneath that, I think was fear.

I trained to protect myself. With muscle as my armor. And progress as proof.

But now it’s different. Strength means knowing when to stop. When to ease back and when to listen.

It means not overriding warning signs just to prove something.

It also means… → Running and not tracking it. → Skipping a workout without guilt. → Learning to feel my feelings, not blunting them.

For a while, progress looked like nothing. No lesson. No wins. Just making it through the day sometimes.

I run to feel free. I stretch to find what’s still tight. I walk to slow my thoughts. I lift to remember I’m capable, not invincible.

I don’t train angry. I don’t chase soreness. I train out of respect for my body.

How I build a day that doesn't break me

I used to build my days for output. Now I build them for stability.

Here’s what that looks like… ☐ Wake up early… and slowly. ☐ No phone for the first 30 minutes. ☐ Water first + matcha. Then natural light. Then breathwork.

☐ Movement… but with intention. Lift. Walk. Run. Stretch. Whatever feels right.

☐ Simple foods. Always eaten sitting down. Nothing fancy.

☐ A few deep work blocks. ☐ Breaks before I’m fried. ☐ An outdoor walk when the afternoon slump hits ☐ No coffee after 1. ☐ No guilt if I need rest.

☐ Dinner early. ☐ Walk after eating. Then wind down.

☐ No deep work at night.

☐ No “one more thing.”

I don’t live like a machine anymore. I live like someone who wants to last.