How to get back in the saddle after *years*

Hey, y'all! Long, loooong time no talk.

I'm back! And I have a lot to say about picking things up after a long time away.

Where did I go?

Well, I had this neat little ::waves hands sarcastically:: thing where my cerebrospinal fluid was leaking from my spine which is, as you might expect, bad for the brain, and extremely debilitating. But, although it is extremely debilitating, it is very vague, symptom-wise, so it took two years for a diagnosis, then I had surgery and spent another full year on the recovery rollercoaster.

The 1 year anniversary of my blood patch procedure was March 21st. My brain is only just now really back to almost normal.

Effectively, I spent 3 years in a concussive state, unable to work, unable to think about work, unable to even stay in touch with work.

Three years not working on my SaaS, Noko time tracking, three years not being involved with Stacking the Bricks and 30x500, three years unable to read articles and stay up to date, unable to chat with my fellow indie hackers, customers, students, do webinars or podcasts, even write, really.

I am only really now realizing just how much time I spent dissociated. (Ironically, it's tough to notice that you're dissociated when you're dissociated.) It feels like waking up from a coma.

And so now I have to figure out how to go from… that… to getting back to work, to my life.

It's been… difficult.

Halfway through last year, I tweeted that "crawling back to work after literally years unable to function is like crawling over yards of broken glass."

But finally — with many false starts and stumbling blocks — I've done it. I'm here. I'm back, baby!!

Today Alex and I launched the first thing new thing we've completed together since 2019:

Launch FTW, a 12-week roadmap + 9-part email course to jump start your product empire. Alex has said, "This is our best free resource ever, and I don’t think that’s an exaggeration" and he is absolutely correct. It's a visual, action-packed roadmap for launching a tiny but profitable product, plus a 9-part email course to help you implement it. And it's freeeee.

But let's put the marketingspeke on the backburner and go back to talking about me.

A massive weight has lifted from my shoulders. Work is still a daily challenge for me, but now I know that I really can do it — still, again. I'll get the connections, the tacit knowledge, the skills, and the confidence back. It's just going to take some time.

I know I'm not the only one who struggles to get back into things, with changing energy and ability and/or time and focus.

So I thought you all might like to hear the ways I've managed to rehab myself and crawl over that broken glass and get to what is, for the moment, a kind of triumphant finish line.

Here are 4 tools I've learned to get going again, when the going is so, SO hard:

• Lower the stakes. I tried to jump right back into writing for work and it absolutely did not work; I set out to write something useful but my brain did not cooperate, and I ended up convinced I'd never be able to write again. So I thought to take away all the weight of expectations and work and money and value. I set up a zero stakes blog and just had fun with it. Writing about random, pointless, fun infodump stuff (photography) really helped me practice writing the verb, instead of Writing The Work.

• Inputs > outputs. I'd often find myself thinking, "I ought to do x," but then when I sat down to do it, I couldn't find a single idea for x. And I'd get stuck there, trying harder and harder to juice my brain for something, spinning my wheels in the mud. The problem was I was used to having internal resources — data, info, experience, facts, things I liked and didn't like and wanted to complain about — that I simply did not have any more, after so many years of incapacity. Metaphorically, I needed to get out of the car and put something under my wheels for traction. I found that doing Sales Safari and reading and listening and talking has brought this back. Slowly, but it's working.

• Come at it sideways. When I'd sit down to write, or design, or what-have-you, and I'd sit there, and nothing would happen — even if I did have ideas, now. Something about facing down the work I hadn't done in so long was paralyzing. So I learned to change my angle of attack. I'd back into the work, or sidle up to the problem before my brain could notice what’s happening and trigger resistance. Instead of writing, I'd make myself voice notes — rambly as I liked — and use auto transcription. Instead of design, I'd start making a list of things I hated about the thing I wanted to replace with my design. I've written up lists of questions instead of making decisions, made minimalist slides instead of paragraphs and wireframes, and phoned a friend to talk it out. Basically anything that disrupted the Normal Work Program — which triggered anxiety and stuckness — helped me back into getting things done.

• Do something entirely else. I fell in love with photography again. Even when I was quite, quite ill, I still took photographs. Even if it was just in my living room or off my front porch. I still read things, even if it was just old forum threads about obscure vintage lenses. And when I was too sick even for that, I watched videos about it instead. I don't think I'd be here, writing about having any small success at recovery — finally — if I hadn't picked up my photography hobby when I was much sicker. I could've felt guilty for spending time and money on something "frivolous," time I "could've worked instead"… but the fact is, I couldn't have worked, I tried. Forgiving myself for what I couldn't do, and giving myself something that did exercise my brain and creative muscles, got me out of my recliner and outside, that made me happy, was worth every sacrifice I made for it.

Work isn't everything, and being able to work — or not — is not a moral value. If we can't accept what's really happening, what we genuinely can or can't do — our absolute limits at that moment — we can't face it, and we can't get better.

If I hadn't been willing to admit what I truly could not do, I wouldn't have found these workarounds that made me able to do it again. And I wouldn't have anything positive to look back on from the time I could not work at all, and no solace to draw from that, to power me, emotionally, to keep trying.

So, there's actually the fifth thing:

Radical acceptance.

If you're struggling like I was and still am, I hope this helps. And if you've been through anything similar (regardless of severity), I would love to hear what has helped you.