Here's a lesson I apparently needed to learn the hard way: when your fever hits 104 degrees, put the phone down.

I spent the last 48 hours in a fever-induced delirium, courtesy of some kind of bug that decided to throw a party in my already-compromised body while I was simultaneously weaning off a medication. The result? A perfect storm of vomiting, shaking, and sending panicked texts to people I care about while my brain was literally cooking itself.

I am embarrassed. I am ashamed. And I am, once again, learning something I should have already known.

In January of last year, I wrote about how "true strength sometimes means choosing stability over ambition, healing over hustle." I wrote about knowing "when to pause, when to prioritize health and relationships." I meant every word of it. And apparently, I still haven't fully absorbed my own advice.

The thing about Radical Resilience is that it's not a destination. It's not something you achieve once and then carry in your pocket forever. It's a practice. A messy, imperfect, sometimes-you-forget-everything-you-learned practice.

I put too much pressure on myself. I pushed through moments I knew I should have been resting. I told myself I could handle it, that I've handled worse, that stopping meant failing. And then my body made the decision for me in the most dramatic way possible: by shutting me down completely.

The shame spiral is real. I wrote about it before, about that "toxic roommate in our heads" that turns every mistake into evidence that we're fundamentally broken. Right now, that roommate is having a field day.

But here's what I'm trying to remember: "The shame spiral isn't evidence that I'm broken. It's proof that I care deeply about growth, about becoming better, about living authentically." I wrote that, and I need to believe it now.

So here's my new rule, and I'm sharing it with you in case you need it too:

If your fever is over 100, you are not allowed to:

• Make important decisions
• Have serious conversations
• Send texts longer than "I'm sick, talk later"
• Convince yourself you can push through
• Feel guilty about resting

Your brain is not working correctly. Your emotions are not calibrated. Whatever feels urgent right now will still be there when your body temperature returns to normal.

I'm learning to give myself the same acceptance I preach to others. Slowly. Imperfectly. And with frequent setbacks.

This is one of those setbacks.

But I'm still here. Still learning. Still trying. And that has to count for something.