08/11/2026
Getting hit by a semi truck was not on my list for last year.
The gratitude is real. When you know how much worse it could have gone, an ordinary Tuesday starts looking like a gift. But gratitude and struggle share a room, and mine did for a long time.
Physical therapy came first. Months of it. Showing up, doing the work, and watching the progress crawl. There were days I sat in my car afterward and cried because it felt like nothing was changing. That is a hard thing to admit out loud when you are supposed to be the strong one.
The red light came somewhere in the middle of all that searching. Doctors, therapy, research at 2am, help for my head as much as my shoulder. Plenty of people call red light a gimmick and maybe the science is still catching up. What it gave me was 15 or 20 minutes where nothing was required of me. No phone. No pain to push through. Nothing to be brave about. Just warmth and quiet and a body that finally got permission to stop bracing.
Then came surgery, and after that the part nobody warned me about. My body did not bounce back. Inflammation would not quit. My nervous system acted like the crash was still happening every single morning. Anxiety and depression showed up in a way that was brand new to me in my forties, and that frightened me more than the surgery had.
Anyone who has been there knows exactly what that quiet sounds like.
Time, good doctors, and a lot of stubbornness did most of the healing. But that little ritual was the thing I could control on the days when nothing else felt like progress, and some seasons you just need one thing.
Here is what stayed with me.
Hard seasons rarely look hard from the outside. You can be showing up, working, laughing at dinner, and quietly wondering if you will ever feel like yourself again.
If that is where you are right now, I’m sorry.
Your body remembers what your calendar keeps ignoring. Find your 15 minutes, whatever that looks like for you.
What has been getting you through?