You want to stay positive. You want to trust the process. But some days, the stillness gets loud.
Surrender sounds nice — until you’re forced into it. Until everything feels slow and uncertain and you’re left asking God why this is taking so long.
But somewhere in the middle of the waiting, something deeper starts to settle. That maybe you’re not doing this alone…
But here’s what I didn’t understand at the time (or maybe someone told me, but I wasn’t able to hear it yet):
Healing isn’t linear. It’s layered.
Healing isn’t linear. It’s layered.
We often hold this memory of who we used to be and how we used to move—and we carry it like a measuring stick into recovery. At least that's what I did.
But that version of you? That strength and stamina you had before surgery? It lives in the past. You accomplished it. It mattered.
Read more...But that version of you? That strength and stamina you had before surgery? It lives in the past. You accomplished it. It mattered.
You are literally repairing your body for the future. You are exactly where you should be today. You are not behind, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with you.
I know it’s hard, especially during the holidays when everyone seems to be out at BBQs, fireworks shows, and get-togethers. But I want to remind you—this is the season to be the most mindful.
I’ve always been good at picturing things that don’t exist yet. You want a dream chased? A goal cast? A Pinterest board for your next 10 years? I’m your girl.
But I know not everyone is wired that way.
Maybe you can’t see it yet. Maybe you’re still in the thick of pain or fear. Maybe the idea of thinking ahead just feels... fuzzy. And that’s OK.
You don’t need a picture-perfect vision board to make a change. But you do need to get clear on one thing:
There’s a part of knee replacement recovery that nobody really talks about enough — and it’s what I call the Groundhog Day Effect.
(Yes, like the old Bill Murray movie where he’s trapped in the same small town, waking up to the same song, eating at the same diner, stuck in the same loop over and over.)
(Yes, like the old Bill Murray movie where he’s trapped in the same small town, waking up to the same song, eating at the same diner, stuck in the same loop over and over.)
Here’s what it looks like in real life:
You go to physical therapy.
They add one new exercise to your routine — just one — and somehow, it’s the one that feels like it completely takes your knee out.
You go to physical therapy.
They add one new exercise to your routine — just one — and somehow, it’s the one that feels like it completely takes your knee out.
