I was reading an article about multiple sclerosis when I got hung up on a word. Not one of the medical terms, either. Conscientiousness. I think I’ve been called conscientious before, and I had a general idea of what it meant. But apparently not enough of an idea to keep reading without consulting a dictionary.
So I looked it up. And then I sat there.
Being careful, taking responsibilities seriously, putting thought and effort into what you do. The article described being organized, diligent, and oriented toward goals. That sounded familiar. What really caught my attention, though, was the suggestion that this trait had been associated with better outcomes in people with MS. I recognized something of myself in the description, and suddenly I wanted to understand more. Why might that matter? What, if anything, could it mean for me?
The article that sent me to the dictionary describes a trial designed to test whether coaching in goal-directed behavior can help people benefit more from cognitive rehabilitation. It’s a study plan, not completed results showing that it works. And an association between a personality trait and health outcomes doesn’t tell me what will happen with my own MS. Still, it gave me something to think about. As if my mind needed another assignment.
I do feel that building and maintaining a routine helps keep both my physical and mental health alive. Having something to work toward matters to me. Recently, that has included taking on a 30-day Bible challenge for myself, then thinking about how I could share it with others. One personal goal becomes another possibility. My mind tends to do that.
I work in product marketing, which gives my active mind plenty to do. I’m gathering input, thinking about what matters to people, figuring out how to explain something clearly, and planning how all the pieces will come together. I put a lot of myself into that process, and I find it invigorating. There’s usually another possibility to consider. Occasionally, I’d appreciate it if that possibility could wait until morning.
Reading about conscientiousness made me wonder whether some of those familiar habits might matter beyond my work. I’ve spent years approaching projects this way. Could any of that also help me navigate life with MS? I don’t know, but that question made the research feel personal.
My imagination has always been active, too. Sometimes I wonder whether growing up as an only child in a single-parent household had something to do with that. Whatever the reason, there is usually an idea taking shape.
Following through is another conversation. I have trouble with it sometimes, and I suspect there are several reasons. But I’m always aspiring. Even when I catch myself setting limits because of my age or disability, my mind is still coming up with possibilities.
Last night, I kept thinking about an initiative I’m launching at work. What’s left? Could I do something differently? Faster? Better? Will I meet the deadline?
Thinking through those steps is part of my stress response. It helps me envision what’s ahead so I can figure out what will get done, how, and by when. It helps me feel more prepared, although there are times I wish I could leave the planning until the next day.
Capacity is something I think about constantly. There are times when I can work through all those questions, and others when I’ve completely shut down. Both are part of my experience. Recognizing myself in a word like conscientious doesn’t make the harder days disappear or explain every reason they happen.
Lately, I’ve been working on boundaries, particularly at work and with coworkers, to protect that capacity. Sometimes I need to say I can’t do something. Other times I sit quietly while I work out how to respond or what action to take. There may be plenty happening in my head during that silence. I’m giving myself time before adding something else to what I’m already carrying.
I’m curious about what this research will find. I’d like to understand whether coaching could help someone like me, who already spends considerable time thinking about goals, navigate the space between imagining something and doing it.
For now, I’ve learned a little more about a word I thought I knew. I can see myself in it, including the parts that don’t fit neatly: the routines and the unfinished things, the enthusiasm and the need to pause. I’m still sitting with what that means. Knowing me, I’ll have a few more questions.
Do you recognize yourself in this, too—a mind full of plans and possibilities, and the ongoing work of figuring out what you have the capacity to do?