Pushing Yourself to a Breaking-Point

Some thoughts on perseverance, resilience, and the Céline Dion Documentary .

They say that a successful writing career has more to do with perseverance than anything else. Yes, having talent helps. Working hard goes without saying. But how you deal with rejections and how quickly you bounce back from a set-back will determine how far you’ll go.

I think we have all heard a version of this well-meaning advice/warning. It is the kind of advice that has made me push myself over the decades to show up to do the work, and work hard at bettering my craft. Rejections still hurt, but so far, they haven’t stopped me from writing, hoping, and keep on trying (harder).  

When I applied for a writing grant from the Quebec Council for the Arts back in March 2023 (after five rejections from the Canada Council for the Arts), I committed to completing a first draft of a book in a year. Considering that I had accidentally ended up writing a book in two months the year before, this deadline didn’t seem overly ambitious. In fact, it seemed plenty generous. But not all books are made equal. The book I accidentally wrote two years ago was experimental and fun, and was written for the sole purpose of healing my broken-heart. By stark contrast, the book that I am writing right now — a revised version of a story that formed in my head almost twelve years ago — has much higher stakes, and a deadline by which I must complete writing it, unless I am prepared to pay back the grant that I have already received!

Luckily, I can’t afford to do that, nor do I want to. So, I plough on. I persevere. But here is the thing, I am also having a lot of fun! How can this be, I sometimes wonder, when the subject matter is far from cheerful, and often asks me to revisit painful moments in my past?

I suspect that my joy stems from

a)     a sense of purpose. I really do love writing. I love nothing more than the solitude of being in my own creative bubble and playing with words and language. It is pure magic. And after years of having to fight for time to write, being able to do this now full-time is a gift that I am not taking for granted. I honour my writing time, as any other self-respecting full-time job, and make no apologies for it.

b)    Self-care. After I have finished writing an emotionally exhausting scene, I will congratulate myself and head out for a walk on the mountain, or my yoga mat. On every given day, I will move my body 2-3 times for 20-40 minutes and will finish with a short meditation. I am mindful of the food that I put in my body, but also of the company that I keep. Spending quality time with my daughters and good friends for me is just as important.

Which brings me to Céline Dion.

During my cooking/ hanging out the laundry breaks, I tend to listen to inspiring podcasts, and sometimes catch a short video. I don’t know what possessed me to check out the new documentary I am Céline Dion on Prime, but I did. This documentary, which I watched incrementally over a couple of days, made me uneasy from the start. I didn’t know why, so I continued to torture myself with it until I figured out the reason.

At first, I thought that my discomfort was natural and understandable, given that the documentary was about a person struggling with excruciating pain from a debilitating disease (Stiff Persons Syndrome). And watching a documentary on illness is never fun, as it reminds us of our own fragility and mortality.

But in the last fifteen minutes of the film when we see Céline go through a seizure that almost kills her, while the cameras keep rolling, I was sickened. It was too much. I must confess that I fast-forwarded to the scene where she looks into the camera and says through her tears, “if I can’t run, I’ll walk. If I can’t walk, I’ll crawl. And I won’t stop.”

I know I’m supposed to applaud her “bravery” and be vow-ed by her “resilience,” but instead what I heard myself say out loud was, ‘no, no, please, Céline, STOP! Stop before you kill yourself.’

And as I said those words out loud, I realized that I was not only sad, but outraged. Why nobody was saying those words to this poor woman, as the cameras kept rolling, despite the director admitting that she thought she was seeing someone dying in front of her eyes? Why is Céline’s pain so gruesomely exploited, while we, as spectators and a society, are expected to see this documentary as “inspirational” and Céline’s example as “showcasing the resilience of the human spirit”?

I was angry. It is messages of this kind that celebrate an unhealthy addiction to achievement that encourage us to push ourselves too hard — sometimes to a breaking point — before realizing that we have gone too far.

While a healthy amount of perseverance is necessary to “success” (however you define this to yourself), caution must be exercised. Pushing ourselves to a breaking point in order to find love, meaning and validation through our achievements can be a dangerous game. As someone who tends to push herself hard, Céline’s story for me was a cautionary tale. As I am not a Céline Dion fan (but appreciate her voice), I didn’t see a famous Diva, but a single mother, and a human being. And all I wanted to do by the end of this film is not to applaud her, but to simply hold her hand and lovingly say to her, “you are loved. You are enough as you are. You don’t need to prove anything.”

Unfortunately, I can’t say those words to Céline Dion. But I hope that someone does. Because even Divas need to hear those simple words sometimes. And I am saying those words to you, dear reader, if you tend to be one of those “resilient” individuals who pushes themselves to a breaking point. And I am saying those words to me, as a reminder, because sometimes this is what I need to hear instead of, “you can do this!”

To stop doesn’t always mean defeat. We need to stop in order to catch our breath. Sometimes, when we are unable to do this for ourselves, our bodies will force us into a standstill. (You can learn more on this topic from Dr. Gábor Maté’s book When the Body Says No: The Cost of Hidden Stress, or Dr. Bessel van der Kolk’s The Body Keeps the Score.) And then, from this quiet and humbling place, we are able to take an honest look at our lives and decide whether this path we have been on for so long, and have fought so hard to arrive at, feels right for us still. Sometimes it will; sometimes it won’t. Sometimes a new direction can mean a new adventure, and even — freedom.

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