Recovery has been slower than I thought it would be. Not in a dramatic way, just quietly. It shows up in small moments that don’t always feel like progress at first. Some days I notice a little more strength. Other days I feel just as tired as before. I’m learning that this is still recovery, even when it doesn’t look the way I imagined.
Physically, my body is still exhausted. Not the kind of tired that a good night’s sleep fixes, but a deep heaviness that lingers. I have to remind myself that my body has been through a lot. Pushing it right now only makes things harder, so I’m trying to listen instead. That part isn’t easy for me, but I’m working on it.
Emotionally, things are still settling. I don’t think you walk away from a hospital stay like that without carrying some of it with you. Certain moments bring the fear back, even when I’m safe at home. Sometimes it catches me off guard. I’m realizing that recovery isn’t just physical. There’s a lot to unpack emotionally too.
I’ve noticed that I’m paying more attention to small things lately. Quiet mornings. Familiar routines. Moments that feel steady. Those things didn’t seem important before, but now they matter in a way I can’t really explain. They make the days feel manageable.
Living with chronic illness already teaches you that progress isn’t a straight line. This experience just reinforced that for me. Some days will feel better. Some won’t. I’m trying not to label either as good or bad, just different. Showing myself a little patience feels like part of the process now.
If you’re in your own recovery, whether it’s visible or not, you’re probably figuring this out too. There’s no rush to feel okay again. I’m still taking things one day at a time, listening to my body, and adjusting as I go.
I’m still here. Still healing. Still learning what this next chapter looks like. And for now, that feels like enough.