Somewhere Between the Beach and the Breakdown
A mono resurgence, a blackout, and a few unexpected lessons on surrender, stillness, and self-trust.
Hello dear readers,
This month, I’ll be somewhere between the beach, the sea, and the city—spending time with my family at our side-by-side cottages at the Jersey Shore, taking a few meetings in NYC, and enjoying a vacation with my husband’s family in Jamaica (the country, not Queens). If you don’t make it to the end of this article – please note that I’ll be taking the next post or two off & will restart Somewhere Between again at some point in August.
🎧 If you prefer to listen, the audio version of this piece is here. Subscribe to get first dibs on both!
Why am I taking off from writing while I try to gently float through this month? Because seven weeks ago I was diagnosed with a mono resurgence.
If you don’t know what that means, no worries—neither did I.
In fact, I have no recollection of ever having mono. (Or, medically speaking, Epstein-Barr Virus, or ‘EBV’.) So how could I be given a diagnosis with “resurgence” in the name?
Apparently, most people get EBV as infants or teenagers (cue the “kissing disease” jokes from the 90s). Once you’ve had it, the virus never leaves your body—it just gets stored away in a kind of immune-system quarantine.
But sometimes, that quarantine system weakens.
And the virus escapes.
This is called a flare-up or resurgence. It used to be pretty rare. But in recent years, doctors are seeing it more frequently—especially among people who have been under prolonged stress.
When they tested me for EBV, they checked three different markers:
New viral load (mine was zero)
Amount of virus stored in the body’s “quarantine” (mine was zero)
Amount of old virus recirculating in the body (mine topped the charts)
So: not contagious. But very, very present.
And the prescription? Rest. For three months.
Both my Western and Eastern doctors gave me the same advice (3 months of rest). I was also prescribed a mix of herbs to support my immune system. But the central instruction was crystal clear: rest.
Three months of rest felt... excessive, especially after taking a 2-year sabbatical.
Sure, I was sleeping 10–13 hours a night and still waking up tired, had zero energy to work-out and if I socialized at night, I couldn’t function the next day at all (hello, warning signs!). But stay in bed for three full months? I have a life to live! A new company to build!
Thanks, heard, I’ll cut back on socializing (somewhat) —but I’m still going to get out of bed and do something with my days.
At first, that sort of worked.
I couldn’t really hold a conversation after 5pm or 6pm, but I still worked.
Until I couldn’t. My brain started short-circuiting—full cognitive fog.
For the first four weeks, I kept trying to show up.
Until everything fell down.
Including me.
I fully blacked out and fainted—mid-mammogram. (Yes, I’m fine. Yes, it was dramatic. Yes, Ernie projectile vomited all over me right after which really added to the absurdity of that day!)
Right after that, about 2 weeks before July 4th, Clint drove me out to the beach. My business partner Sam and I were on Zoom and she thought our connection kept freezing—because I kept stopping mid-word. Finally, she looked at me and said:
“You’re of no help to me or our baby business right now. You need to go the f* to sleep.”
A wake-up call.
Or a stay-down call.
Clint went back to the city so I could have the cottage to myself and I stayed in bed for the next three days straight.
Ernie (our French Bulldog) was thrilled. If you’ve ever had a non-sporting dog, you know the joy they feel when their human also wants to sleep 20 hours a day.
Even after my three-day sleep marathon, I still woke up exhausted. No magic bullet. No shortcut. No cheat code to condense a three-month recovery window into a long weekend.
That’s when I got quiet.
Really quiet.
I apologized to my body. For overriding her. For pushing when all she wanted—and needed—was stillness. I changed course. I started visualizing the herbs I was taking like a wide, woven net moving through my system, gently collecting the virus and bringing it back into quarantine.
And I rested.
A week later, my body asked to sit by the sea.
So I did.
Then she asked to stand in the ocean—cold, clear, and glittering under the sun. As I lowered myself into the water, breathing calmly, it felt like a baptism.
A washing away.
A restart.
When I emerged, I felt reborn.
I did it again the next day. And the one after that.
I found a healer nearby who offered acupressure massage, and with each session, my sleep began to deepen. My thoughts began to return—gently, inconsistently, but they came.
Mono-brain, as I called it, had its moments. Some were maddening.
Many were hilarious.
We lost power at the beach more than once. Each time, I tried to reset the blinking stove clock. It wouldn’t respond, no matter how many times I hit the “display time” button. When Clint came out to restock the fridge & check in on me (I love you, Clint), I told him it was broken.
He walked over, took one look, and said:
“Hon… that says delay time, not display time.” 🤦🏻♀️
Another day, someone asked me about the alcohol distribution laws in Provence.
I responded confidently—with details about Providence, Rhode Island. 😂
We’ve all been in that battle between mind and body.
It’s never fun.
But if you can sit in the discomfort long enough—if you can stay still, and really listen—there is always something waiting for you on the other side.
Sometimes it's healing.
Sometimes it’s clarity.
Sometimes it’s just a good story and a blinkless oven clock.
I know I’ll end up in this struggle again—between what I want to do and what my body can do. But I hope, next time, I listen a little sooner. That I give her what she’s asking for the first time around.
For now, I’m still resting & rebuilding, but doing worlds better. I even got to jump in the ocean with 8 of my nieces and nephews over the July 4th weekend and re-engaged with the act of playing – another great healer!
So, I’ll be taking the next post (or two) off, and will return to you in August—hopefully with a little more sun in my bones and a lot more clarity in my brain.
💌 Until then, be gentle with your mind, and kinder still to your precious bodies. We only get one of each. ☀️ I hope you all have a fantastic July! 🍦
***I did not know if I was going to share with you this mono-resurgence diagnosis, especially as I have not even told many people in my personal life. But, I decided to share in case anyone out there is feeling deeply tired in a way that doesn’t seem to get better with sleeping longer than their normal range. It’s a quick blood test to see if you have it and, as a flare-up or resurgence is becoming less rare, I know that getting the diagnosis helped me understand better what was going on with my body … even if it took me a few weeks to really respond.
The "under the sheets" photo I think is from when you had to recuperate from lifting too many cases (oops..a pattern begins?) from your Citi-bike and suffered an injury. MaryAnn S. & I traveld to NYC to see your Times Sq billboard. You were recuperating at home. I am about to undergo my own surgery requiring 2 MONTHS recovery. Never ever have not worked since age 16 in last Century! Must rest & PT to get Back to work. So "Counter Intuitive"...rEvolution!
As a human whose body is her keeper (and one I rarely listen to) I feel this in my bones. I have had mono, and a resurgence, and it’s no fun. I’m proud of you for finally listening, and for taking that listening outside when helpful.
Substack will be here, as will the baby business (you two are killing me) but none of that matters if you aren’t well.
Rest easy, friend. Our bodies keep the score… truly, madly, deeply. xx.