Not Bad. Pat on the Back.

I’m not very good at celebrating my own achievements.

Like many people, I tend to notice what has gone wrong long before I notice what has gone right. If something is improving, I quietly move the goalposts. If something is getting worse, I spot it immediately. Living with Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP) probably doesn’t help.

The past month has included more than its fair share of reminders that this disease is very real. There have been frightening episodes, new symptoms, days when my body simply refused to cooperate, and moments that forced me to confront realities I would much rather have postponed.

But they are not the whole story.

This week my physiotherapist pointed out something I probably wouldn’t have noticed on my own. Despite everything, I’m actually getting stronger in the gym. My bench press has improved, and so have a number of other exercises. Considering I spend most of my life in a wheelchair, that’s something worth acknowledging.

Then another set of numbers arrived.

Apparently, during July I dictated 68,711 words. That’s roughly the length of a substantial non-fiction book. My voice typing ranked in the top 0.6% of all users. I averaged 112 words per minute, around 72 words per minute faster than typing, completed 2,601 Flow sessions, and somewhere along the way passed 300,000 dictated words in total.

I looked at those statistics for a while and realised something.

If someone without PSP had achieved those figures while working full time, I would almost certainly have congratulated them. So why shouldn’t I do the same for myself?

We spend a lot of time encouraging other people. We congratulate colleagues, applaud friends, and tell children they should be proud of themselves after genuine effort. Yet many of us find it surprisingly difficult to extend the same generosity to ourselves.

I’m certainly guilty of that.

When you live with a progressive illness, it’s easy to measure life by what you’ve lost. There is always another adjustment to make, another ability becoming harder, another reminder that tomorrow may not look like today. The danger is that you stop noticing what remains and, every now and then, what is quietly getting better.

There was one more statistic this month that made me smile.

My article about our Maltese, Buddy, attracted more engagement on social media than anything else I’ve written. After dictating well over 300,000 words on leadership, faith, illness, resilience and everything in between, the internet appears to have reached a unanimous verdict.

Buddy is far more interesting than I am.

To be fair, he has better hair, a friendlier personality, and has never once written an opinion piece.

I can’t really argue with that.

None of this changes the reality of PSP. Tomorrow it will still be progressive. It will still be unpredictable. It will still ask difficult things of me.

But that’s only one side of the ledger.

The other side says that, despite everything, I became a little stronger in the gym this month. I dictated another book’s worth of words. I kept writing. I kept thinking. I kept contributing.

And apparently I continue to work for a small white dog who has become the real influencer in the family.

I’ll take that.

So, just this once, I’m giving myself permission to look at the numbers, smile for a moment, and say something I don’t say often enough.

Not bad.

A small pat on the back.

Then tomorrow morning, I’ll sit down, dictate the next thousand words, and try to earn another one.