A new chapter in my recovery
This is a short, less structured post, where I simply share an update on where I am today, in July 2026, two and a half years after getting Covid.
After two and a half years on this path, reading about nervous system regulation, and experimenting with my own recovery… something suddenly clicked.
The fear of the illness is gone.
Completely.
This is more than just an intellectual realization, or a "I feel safe" mantra. I can feel it in my body. My whole being feels deeply safe and grounded most of the time.
I still occasionally experience some unpleasant bodily sensations, difficult emotions, and worry. Life goes on, with its unavoidable share of stress and surprises. But I'm not scared of those things anymore.
Lately, when I do something new, I know for a fact that I won't "crash". That doesn't mean: "I'm sure I won't have any symptoms after this". It means: "Whatever happens, I know I won't spiral downward in terror again."
I tried to make this "aha moment" happen so many times. I tried to force it, to trigger it, with more regulation and more exercises. But there was nothing I could have done to make it happen any faster. The process had to unfold at its own pace, and it required tremendous amounts of patience and trust.
I still occasionally have intrusive thoughts. I think they are mostly driven by the trauma of the illness.
"What if I collapse again?"
"Wait... what is this sensation?"
Those thoughts are automatic. There's nothing I can do to stop them from appearing altogether. But the fact that I now consistently respond to them with acceptance and a bit of indifference, made them become much less frequent and less intense.
Nowadays, my inner dialogue sounds more like this:
"Oh. I'm feeling frustrated right now. Yep."
Whenever I notice my mind drifting somewhere that isn't helpful, I simply notice it, validate it, and move on with my day. I don't try to change it, to not think or not feel, or to think or feel "happy".
Accepting that some discomfort can exist, and that we don't need to do anything to fix it immediately, is extraordinarily freeing. Funnily enough, discomfort tends to disappear much faster when it's allowed to be here, than when we're actively (and desperately) trying to make it go away.
So this is simply what my recovery process looks like these days.
Now, if I'm being completely honest, I do have an idea of what may have helped me reach this point.
Lately, I realized that spending so much time in Long Covid and ME/CFS communities was really distressing for me.
I had left non-recovery spaces when I started getting better, but after a while I came back, trying to help people the best I could. I felt the need to share the hope that others had shared with me when I was at my worst, through their recovery stories.
By doing that, you witness distress, fear, rejection, and sometimes even hate, every single day. All of this is rooted in the immense suffering caused by the way these illnesses are perceived and treated. I understand that, and I don't blame anyone for it.
But trying to spread hope in those spaces feels like trying to move a boat against the current with your bare hands, while having rocks thrown at you. It is exhausting, and it hurts.
Eventually, I realized that, despite my best intentions, staying in that environment was holding me back in my own recovery. Taking some distance unlocked another layer of healing for me, as I focused more on living my life than on the illness.
If you're reading this while you're still in the hardest part of this illness, I know how this post might sound. You might be thinking:
"She has just learned to cope with being sick.
This is as good as it gets..."
That's exactly what I used to think too when I read posts like this in recovery groups a year ago.
The truth is, I'm still healing.
This post isn't the end of my journey.
My symptoms aren't completely gone yet, but they have improved dramatically. My nervous system has settled. I'm starting to move again and work on projects. I also experience normal fatigue and normal muscle soreness as I gradually rebuild my strength.
I spend most of my days not thinking about Long Covid or ME/CFS, and I am no longer making decisions only based on the illness.
For years, even before I got sick, my mind was constantly occupied by difficult thoughts and anxiety. Now, my life has become so much bigger than all of that. For me, that is healing, and I'm infinitely grateful.
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