Recently, I got ill with a flare-up of a chronic condition. Not dramatic, but disruptive. It affected what I could eat, how often I could work, and most unexpectedly, my voice. I did not lose it completely but it felt weak every time I spoke. I am back to normal now, thankfully. But it changed how I see many things.
At first I was upset. Last year at CARE (Conference of Animal Rights in Europe), I had an amazing time. This year I missed half of it. In Warsaw I arrived excited to eat at my favourite vegan spots and soon realised I could barely eat anything. What was meant to be a dream trip turned into stress, and I flew home early.
To recover faster I tried a silent retreat at home. That was hard because I love talking. But I learned to mime surprisingly well and discovered how much can be said without a single word. Some days were quiet and manageable. Others felt endless. On those days I wondered if it would ever end.
Then I started using the tools I know: reflection, reframing, curiosity. I asked what this illness was giving me, not only what it was taking away.
I’m sharing this because we don’t talk about illness a lot, even though we all get ill sometimes, and I would have loved to read more reflections on how illness can shape how we work, relate to others, and understand ourselves.
Not every experience has to be dramatic to be meaningful. Sometimes small disruptions show us things we didn’t notice before. I’ve also left a few optional reflection questions for you, in case you feel you can benefit from them.
Constraints Made Me Grateful
Once I stopped grieving what I could not do, I noticed what I still had.
I could work almost at full capacity. My job allows flexibility and does not require constant talking. My husband, who has Type 1 Diabetes, reminded me that my illness was temporary. That helped. Thinking of people with long-term conditions made me grateful, but also aware that what felt like a temporary challenge for me is a full-time reality for many.
The food I ate was bland but it changed my relationship with meals. A spoon of peanut butter felt like a treat. A bite of sweet potato felt satisfying. Every bite had to count. When I could eat normally again, every meal felt like a celebration.
Reflection for you: When in your life have you lost access to something you take for granted? How did that change the way you experienced it once it returned?
Limitations Made Me a Better Manager
At CARE my voice was weak on day one. Kevin and I had planned for me to lead our networking session. Instead, I asked if he could handle most of it so I could save my voice for the next day’s talk.
He stepped in with confidence. Watching him lead the room taught me something important. Sometimes leaders step in because it feels like their role. But often the most valuable thing you can do is step back and let someone else step forward. The constraint forced me to loosen my grip on being “the one who holds the room,” and that opened space for others to lead.
I did notice something else. Not having a strong voice made me think about people who choose not to speak in rooms even when they have ideas. I became hyper-aware of it. It is easy to forget how much participation depends on confidence, ability, energy and sometimes permission. Illness reminded me that leaders need to notice who holds back and invite them in. Some people speak when they are given space. Others speak when they are given an opening.
Reflection for you: Where in your work or life are you stepping in automatically because it feels like your role? What might happen if you stepped back and allowed someone else to step forward?
Constraints Made Me Grateful for My Habits
Some days felt heavy. My daily run, workout, yoga or meditation practice became the one normal thing I could access. Habits that used to feel like chores turned into relief. I also began a Duolingo streak in Japanese, which gave me a small win every day, no matter how I felt. Those routines acted like stabilisers when everything else felt unpredictable.
Reflection for you: Which daily or weekly habits support you the most in difficult seasons? Are there any you could strengthen or return to?
Limits Made Me Prioritise Better
When you cannot eat much, nutrition becomes your biggest task. I realised how difficult it is to get enough protein when calories are low. For the first time I started counting protein and calories. I chose foods that served my body rather than what I wanted in the moment.
Travelling to EAG NYC while still unwell forced me to be ruthless with time. I normally say yes to many things. This time I could only manage a few hours a day. I focused on our networking session and the few meetings I knew would not happen otherwise. My decisions had sharper edges.
Reflection for you: If your energy or time were suddenly cut in half, which activities would remain non-negotiable? Which ones would quietly fall away? What does this say about the real priorities in your life and can you incorporate more of them into your schedule?
It Made Me More Compassionate
Illness interrupts plans, and that can be frustrating. As a leader, this came into sharp focus. Everyone on my team will eventually get ill. Illness teaches a kind of humility and makes space for compassion. I was lucky to do ninety five percent of my work. Many people cannot. Some have long-term health issues that force a completely different way of living. For them, constraint is not a teaching tool, but a daily reality.
That made me check myself: I do not want to romanticise constraints. Being ill did not make me more effective. In fact, I missed opportunities and probably could have had more impact if I had been well. I do not want to pretend otherwise. Growth does not erase loss.
Most of all, it reminded me to be compassionate toward myself. I have been pushing hard recently. It felt like my body was saying something I had not been willing to say out loud: slow down, or I will do it for you.
Reflection for you: How do you balance learning from difficult experiences without needing to label them as good or productive? Can both grief and growth coexist for you?
Constraints Made Me a Better Listener
I love expressing myself verbally. I’ve always relied on that. I realised how much of my identity sits in being able to hold a room and communicate clearly. Losing that ability felt like losing a part of myself.
When I spoke less, something shifted. I listened more. In 1:1s at CARE, I talked for about ten percent of the time. I learned more about people in a short window than I usually do across much longer meetings.
With Kevin, I suggested that he talk while I typed. Typing slowed me down. I asked more questions. I offered fewer opinions. The silence between words made space for his ideas to grow without my voice shaping them too early. It taught me something about coaching: sometimes all someone needs is your full attention and a little silence.
At home it happened too. I normally dominate conversation with my husband due to being the more talkative of the two of us. With my voice weakened, he spoke more. I heard new things. I liked it!
Reflection for you: Where in your life would listening more and talking less change the quality of your relationships or your leadership?
Final Thoughts
No one seeks illness. I am glad to be healthy again. But I cannot ignore what it revealed. Limits forced different choices. They surfaced strengths I did not expect. They made me grateful.
It is hard to impose constraints on purpose. Most of us would never choose them. Yet when life hands them to us, there is value in asking what they might be showing us, even as we wish them gone. Some constraints teach. Others simply hurt. Both truths can exist at once.
I do not think constraint automatically makes us better. But I do think listening to it can. And maybe that is enough.
Reflection for you: What constraints in your life right now might be trying to tell you something, even if you wish they were gone?
Hi, I’m Sofia Balderson. I lead Hive, a global community for people working to end factory farming. I started Notes from the Margin to share the messier, more personal reflections that don’t fit in formal updates. If you care about leading, belonging, or building something that matters (especially from the edges), you might enjoy sticking around.
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