There was a time in the recent past where I told myself that I’d no longer be a “sick woman.” Mind over matter, right?! But given my proclivities to find some strange and rare illnesses (and I’m not just talking about autoimmune encephalitis, I’ve had a few others …) that sounds more like a bad knock-knock joke than a real goal.
Alas, in early 2024, when I drew my vision board for the year, I told myself that this was the year not to be a sick woman. And the universe said, “Hold my beer and watch this!”
I’ve spent most of the summer away from my platform. I only published two blogs. Had a ghostly social media presence (except some political dumps on Twitter, but hey, no one’s perfect). And did absolutely no work on my hybrid memoir about law school. Like none. Like a finished manuscript has sat in a binder on either my shelf where I ignore it or in my work bag where I pretend I’ll get to it.
Overall, I went into the summer with very low expectations (well, by my standards anyway), because the ante is upped with my three children growing, thriving, and demanding expensive footwear. I’ve got a fresh middle schooler, an elderly elementary student, and a two-time preschooler on my hands. I knew that finding time to cut 30,000 words from a proposed book or finding a literary agent was not going to happen. Between music, tennis, camps, sitting in the sun reading (which I highly recommend) and finding sales on Nike and lululemon, my time was accounted for.
But deep down, I think I’ve felt spent. I’ve been solely running JM Stebbins on my own for nearly five years. I’m a press secretary, editor, copy editor, copywriter, agent, publicist, content creator, and more, across every social media platform and in various mediums. I have fun, but it’s also a lot for one lady.
The thought of doing anything this summer exhausted me. Which is fairly unusual. And I started to question why I’m on this venture and whether it really matters. I worried that maybe I didn’t even want to do it anymore.
That and my sick woman status has kicked me in the face for seven straight months. In no particular order, for this year alone, I’ve: Been to the U of M; had my first steroid injection; got a wrist brace to wear; been hospitalized for a day coming out of anesthesia; started experimental medication (not weed, but maybe someday); been depressed; had low-grade panic attacks; questioned why I try to give motivational speeches because they invariably coincide with some sort of mental health episode; had wires placed into nerves in my back to attempt to relieve chronic pain (and it didn’t work) and had said wires pulled out of the nerves in outpatient as I lay on the clinic table (it was painful AF); been referred to other specialists, and wondered who has better bones, me or a great-grandmother.
That’s just in the year 2024. And that’s not an exhaustive list.
The gall of me to think I could will away my illnesses. When will I ever learn?
But the funny thing about not willing your problems away is that in turn you have to accept your reality. And this year, maybe more than ever, that’s been hard as hell.
The existential questions of: Is this it? Is this my life? What next? When will people stop asking me if I’m going back to practice? Why am I forty and not at the top of my career? Why am I the one who got AE and lost it all?
And lately, a burning question: Am I done with JM Stebbins?
On my better days, I remind myself that I have three busy kids and crappy health. Maybe my quest to be productive in the name of AE awareness and resilience extraordinaire is too much and wearing me out. And there’s no real financial ROI. On my worst days, it nags at me: What’s this all for?
Does it even matter?
Should I just quit and walk away?
This isn’t a job. This isn’t lucrative. This isn’t a small business.
It’s just me.
But this summer, maybe out of the blue, or because of the cosmos, two nights in a row, two different husbands emailed me from their AE-wives’ hospital rooms in the UK. One, beside himself and the pain readily palpable in his words. Could I give him any hope that his wife’s going to turn the corner? The other, grateful, as his wife had her first few nights of peaceful sleep. And thankful to me on behalf of her, himself, and his children, for my book and videos that he’d found and relied upon.
Halfway across the world. Two different families that I’ll never know. Two different situations and two varied outcomes of AE. Two remarkably different emails. Two divergent stories. But both sent to me. Asking for help and saying thanks.
To Jackie M. Stebbins, in Bismarck, North Dakota. The founder and CEO of JM Stebbins.
Because what I do here matters.
It won’t buy me a lake cabin. It won’t roll out the red carpet. It won’t cure my ailments. It won’t release me from my mental health struggles. It isn’t the job of a trial lawyer.
But it will continue to be a place for me to build my platform. To spread awareness. To share resilience, hope, and love. To promote people’s stories. To live in the moment. To enjoy the one life I have to live. To help me (and others) heal.
And to keep myself highly entertained in the wake of my losses.
It will continue to change my life. And by the grace of God, the lives of others.
I’ve definitely contemplated giving it up and being done. To find my worth or identity somewhere else. Or to pursue something different, including nothing at all.
*I’M NOT GOING BACK TO THE PRACTICE OF LAW!
But for right now, I’m still here. At JM Stebbins.
And I’m not going anywhere.
In sickness and in health, JM Stebbins friends, I do.
Onward,
jackie
“Now, this looks like a job for me
So everybody, just follow me
‘Cause we need a little controversy
‘Cause it feels so empty without me
I said this looks like a job for me
So everybody, just follow me
‘Cause we need a little controversy
‘Cause it feels so empty without me
“But no matter how many fish in the sea
It’d be so empty without me
“La-la, la-la-la
La-la, la-la-la
La-la, la-la” ~ Without Me by Eminem
__________
/ / The JM Stebbins blog is an autoimmune encephalitis blog from former lawyer and autoimmune encephalitis survivor, Jackie M. Stebbins.
Jackie M. Stebbins is also the author of Unwillable: A Journey to Reclaim my Brain, a book about autoimmune encephalitis, resilience, hope, and survival. / /