This year I set out to make drastic changes in an attempt to reach my highest potential.

I decided to get healthy, grow a business, get out of debt, travel, and really develop my interpersonal relationships.

But I knew none of that would be possible if I did not also take care of myself, so I deep-dived into self-care, too.

I did everything from monthly pedicures to steaming eye masks. I practiced great skincare, got regular massages, journaled daily, and everything in between, even adding the occasional bubble bath in for fun.

You name it, I tried it.

Let’s set the scene: I am a month into a new job, along with one other new girl, and our lead is sick, which means we were on our own.

On top of that, I have a lot going on. My monthly appointments happened to line up, which meant almost every day after work I had something I had to handle. Granted, one of those appointments was at a spa, but I digress.

On top of ALL of that, I am also in excruciating pain due to my previously mentioned new job being a “sit at this screen in this chair all day” type of situation. My neck, back, and head feel like I was dancing in my own personal hell the entire time.

And yet every single day, no matter how much I want to call out of work and roll deeper into my amazing mattress (when did it even get that comfy?), I get up. Why?

I spent years of my life hating on sleep.

And honestly, it still annoys me that we as a species haven’t evolved out of the need to sleep for 7–9 hours a day.

It always seems like such a waste of time that I could spend doing things I enjoy. Imagine how short my to-be-read pile would be with an extra eight hours of wakefulness in my day.

But alas, human beings need sleep, and to make it worse, I am unfortunately NOT one of those human beings who can get by on 6–7 hours. My body prefers the 9-hour option.

Burnout. Self-help. Self-care. You can’t pour from an empty cup. Put on your oxygen mask before helping others.

Find balance.

How many more cliches can I fit in that tell you to take care of yourself?

I’ve read a LOT on the topic of burnout, finding balance, healing from trauma, taking care of your mind, body, spirit, and anything else you can think of because, like many others, I have felt like something is wrong with me or missing that prevents me from living up to my potential.

When I first heard of the term anhedonia, I was as happy as someone who experiences anhedonia can be.

Suddenly there was a name for what I felt (or didn’t feel), and it felt like validation years in the making.

Anhedonia is defined as the inability to feel pleasure.

As someone who has struggled with depression on and off for most of my adult life, I just assumed I couldn’t feel things like joy and happiness because of said depression. I did not realize that anhedonia may be its own diagnosis entirely.