recovery – Page 2

A new month has begun, and time feels like it’s racing past me. It seems like we just celebrated the New Year, yet here we are already in March. Everything feels like a haze sometimes—days blending into each other, moving faster than I can catch them.

Last night was rough. Pain kept me tossing and turning, and I woke up with the exhaustion that only disturbed sleep can bring. My body felt stiff, every joint creaking like old hinges. How much simpler life would be if, like in the cartoons I grew up watching, a little oil could fix the pain in my joints.

Even so, today was bearable. More than bearable, actually—I managed to do something I hadn’t done yesterday. I cooked dinner. Nothing fancy, of course—my mother had already done all the prep, and I just had to cook it. But it was more than I managed the day before, and that feels like a step in the right direction.

Today was about winding down, letting my body recover from the effort of yesterday. It felt like my system was in “recovery mode,” recharging after the stress of climbing those stairs. I hope that one day soon, I’ll have enough energy to enjoy a day out and still wake up the next morning ready to do more.

For now, I’ll take this as progress: two months down, ten more to go. One step closer to my goals than I was yesterday.

Spontaneity has never been my strength. Sudden plans usually send me into a spiral of panic. But there are exceptions—and family outings are one of them. When I’m with my family, the anxiety fades. I don’t worry about what others think. I just feel safe.

Six months ago, life looked very different. I could barely walk without dragging my leg behind me. Sitting down and standing up from a chair felt like climbing a mountain. I had no strength in my legs, and I often wished for a chair in front of me just to hold onto, in case I fell. Nights were the hardest—I remember crying quietly into my pillow every time I had to turn in bed, praying no one would hear me.

Today, I’m not what most would call “healthy,” but I’m far better than I was. And today, I had a victory.

We went out as a family for lunch. To reach our reserved table, I had to climb five stairs. Five steps—something so small for most people, but for me, it was monumental. Each step sent shooting pain through my legs, but I made it. I leaned on my sister to get down the stairs, but I didn’t break down crying. I got through it. Those five steps were everything.

The meal itself was wonderful. Good food, laughter, and togetherness. I even took pictures of all the dishes we ate. Funny enough, I used to judge people for photographing their food. But now, I see it differently. For me, it’s about capturing a happy memory. I don’t care if the photos are “Instagram-worthy”—I just want them for myself. Since I can’t go on the long walks I used to love, food has become my next best subject for photography. One of these days, I might even start sharing them online.

Leaving all that aside, today was a good day. Yes, I’m in some pain, and yes, I’m exhausted—but nothing I can’t handle. More importantly, I’m determined. I don’t want to go back to my “old self.” I want to become my better self. And with faith, family, and perseverance, I believe I will.

Tag: recovery

Day 92: Two Down, Ten to go

Day 91: Five Steps Closer