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For the majority of my life, I only needed about 4 hours of sleep a night to wake up feeling refreshed and ready to go. I often said–only half-jokingly–that sleep was overrated as I worked to pack in all I could in a days’ time. It didn’t matter the project, if it was worth doing, it was worth forgoing sleep to complete the task by daybreak.
All of that changed in 2008 when the first signs of illness reared their ugly head. By 2010, the onset of illness was full blown with excruciating muscle and joint pain, seizure-like muscle cramps and spasms, icepick-like migraine headaches, skin that felt like it was on fire–a central nervous system under attack–leaving me unable to cut the grass, turn a screwdriver or walk 50’ without being absolutely exhausted and in pain.
I desperately searched for answers but only found myself rapidly headed down a path of dysfunction and hopelessness.
