"I started to accept my limitations, more than the possibilities."

Andy Richter had a short interview on Day 6 on CBC, and something he said really stuck with me. He was asked about his experience on Dancing with the Stars, as a comedian, and as an older guy (59), and about being a fan favourite. He talked about the transformation of his mindset and of his reality. Specifically, before accepting to join DWTS he says something along the lines of:

I had started to accept my limitations, more than the possibilities.

I think that's a quote that speaks a lot to me these days. The last few weeks, I've been thinking about what's been holding me back, and these days it feels like waiting for my incisional hernia surgery has been a big wall for me. I'm worried when exercising. I'm worried about hurting myself more or making it worse. I'm worried about how long I'm going to have to wait. I'm worried if it gets too bad, they won't operate. I'm anxious about it. I want a date. I want to know it's going to happen. 

Then, in talking with a friend bout 2026 and how it feels like it's going to be a big year, I thought about how nice it would be to have the surgery over and done with and how I'll then be able to focus on healing. I won't be in this purgatory or waiting to be cut open again. 

It is now relatively certain that I will have a new job in January 2026. It will either be a promotion I interviewed for this past week, or it will be an at-level change to a Project Management team since my current role and team are being dissolved. 

This friend, energized by changes in her own life, and with a focus on human design, astrology, and various other woo-woo adjacent lenses, got me thinking about what positive changes could come in 2026.

I am so seldom positive. Feeling hope or excitement is so rare for me; it felt both unusual and novel. Thinking of my life in terms of what's possible is just alien to me. I feel so blocked from it. 

But sometimes I have to remind myself that things are possible.

Yes, I almost died in 2022. But I didn't. I have been healing and just surviving, and just trying to figure out what my life and limitations are, but I am, in fact, still alive. 

And as someone who is still alive, I can have goals and desires. 

I did not die in 2022. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

On knowing your limits.

My buddy V linked to this article on Facebook yesterday on how knowing your limits is part of living with depression and anxiety. Like the author, Therese Borchard, I too am often irritated by overly positive texts pasted over out-of-focus nature landscapes that tell us anything is possible if you believe/let go/work hard. Pinterest lives on that shit. 

It's patronizing for someone who struggles so much more to achieve the most basic of "normal" achievements. Borchard's piece discusses her need to be conscious of her limitations in order to live her best life. Being over-worked triggers her, and she has to accept that. That's something we all need to figure out for ourselves (unfortunately). 

I don’t want to have another breakdown this year. I would very much like not to have to wear a paper robe and eat rubber chicken in a room where a bunch of other paper robes fight over the remote control. I know on some level (even if it’s not conscious) that I have to protect my health with everything I have.

I guess I don’t believe everything is possible anymore. Not for people with chronic depression. 

I believe wisdom comes with knowing your limitations and living within them.

It's something I struggle with a lot. What's too much? What's selling myself short? It becomes tantamount to living with your foot on the break, which is exhausting and often irritating. You don't always get very far. Borchard's piece highlights how hard it is to accept her limitations. I think that's a wall most people eventually face, but for people like me, I guess there's first finding the wall and then really working on accepting it. It can be like mourning a loss.