January: Learning the Shape of These Days
January doesn’t arrive as a clean slate in the practical sense — my body is still healing, my nervous system still finding steadiness, and much from last year still very much here.
And yet, as the year turned, I found myself drawn to the idea of meeting this season differently. Not by erasing what’s been hard, but by releasing what no longer serves me — the weight of last year’s energy, old expectations, and the urge to carry more than is actually mine.
I’m stepping into January with an intention to meet my life with more clarity, self-trust, and power — including the power to ask for help when I need it, again and again if necessary. That isn’t always easy. But it feels essential.
Between Years, Still Healing | Days 23-25 of left hip recovery • December 31-January 2
Wednesday, December 31 — Crossing the Year Line
New Year’s Eve arrived on very little sleep. My mind was busy — more head- and heart-related than pain-driven — and I missed my THC/CBN/CBD sleep gummies. I’m not ready to go back to them yet; I want to feel steadier moving around, and I’m still regularly needing pain meds. I slept just under four hours.
With no big plans and low reserves, the day unfolded slowly. We watched movies in bed with Patrick and the pups, then I spent some time outside wrapped in my new heated blanket, journaling and meditating. Basketball games played in the background while we finished holiday cards, followed by a long, very needed nap.
That evening brought more basketball — and a moment of collective sadness watching Jokic get hurt, paired with relief that it seems to be a minor injury. I was asleep by 10.
I’m also still holding gratitude from the day before: a really wonderful catch-up with my girlfriend, who brought homemade chicken soup and gifts from her garden and travels. Our kitty has been especially interested in the tea she brought — I suspect catmint.
Thursday, January 1 — Setting Intentions, Gently
The new year began with a slow, cozy morning snuggling with all three babies — rare to have the kitty fully involved, but she goes through phases.
Patrick worked, so I had a solo morning and spent time with the CHANI daily readings and meditations. I also started an intention-setting challenge on Insight Timer that I’m really liking. I don’t tend to do resolutions, but I do find reflection helpful — noticing how the past year felt, how I’d like the coming year to feel the same or different, and letting that guide what I invite more or less of. I like that this can be an ongoing practice, not something confined to January 1.
I’m slowly reading You Were Born for This by Chani Nicholas and enjoying taking my time with it — appreciating astrology as another tool for understanding myself.
Physically, the day was harder. I was very sore from PT on the 30th, with pain increasing each day since. I realized I’d completely missed that I’d moved to 50% weight-bearing as tolerated — a sign of how frazzled I’ve been — and PT ended up being more intense than my body wanted right now. The goal at this stage is no pain while exercising, which is harder than it sounds.
Patrick played volleyball that evening, so I had a solo night with a phone-call dinner date with my mom — leftovers from Patrick’s delicious chicken dish in hand. I’m missing her a lot.
Friday, January 2 — Listening More Closely
Sleep has improved slightly, but I’m still hovering around seven hours, and the pain was surprisingly intense in the morning — more so than a week ago, which has been confusing.
PT was long, and we talked a lot about pain. Even after naming how high it was, I was asked to complete all of my exercises anyway. During lifting my leg onto a yoga ball — which I’m not supposed to do on my own yet — I realized I was doing much of the work myself, instead of being supported. I should have said something in the moment, but it highlighted how much I miss working with therapists who proactively remind me not to help — who step in without me needing to ask.
It left me feeling a little unsettled, and aware of how much energy it takes right now to advocate for myself — especially when I’m already in pain. I’m hopeful this will improve with time, and also relieved that I’ll be transitioning to a different therapist next week — someone I already know and trust.
I took a long nap in the afternoon, then leaned into comfort: Chinese food (inspired by my mom’s New Year’s dinner) and basketball. It felt a little naughty and very welcome. The Nuggets played their hearts out despite so many injuries, and I felt proud of them. The Bucks game afterward was another nail-biter, ending in a win.
These days are teaching me that healing isn’t a straight climb forward — it’s a practice of noticing, adjusting, and choosing again how to meet what’s here.
Letting the Surface Soften| Days 26-29 of left hip recovery • January 3-6
When the Body Speaks Loudly
The start of these days was marked by a lot of pain — deep, sharp, and unsettling in how it showed up when I stood or shifted my weight. It felt fragile and raw in ways that shook my confidence. Some details are easier to hold privately, but what matters is this: my body was asking for care, slowness, and support — clearly and insistently.
Sleep continues to be elusive. I’m getting less than seven hours most nights and needing long naps to compensate. I’m working on letting that be the norm for now, instead of something to fight.
Support Changes Everything
One of the most meaningful moments came when a friend spent the day with me — helping around the house, making a beautiful snack plate, assisting me with a shower, and even shaving my legs and giving me a pedicure. It was tender, grounding, and surprisingly effective as pain relief. There’s something about being cared for that quiets more than just the body.
That same day, Patrick took a full day trip to Monarch, and it felt good to know he could get out while I was well supported at home.
Full Moon, Open Feelings
All of this is happening within a world that feels increasingly hard to hold — the news relentless, the collective tension palpable. I can feel how much of that lands in my body right now, especially when my own reserves are already thin.
As the full moon peaked, I noticed how close everything felt to the surface — not loud or overwhelming, but pressurized, like water against glass. Some feelings had clear sources; others didn’t. I’ve been awake during those early-morning hours, feeling more permeable than usual, and more aware of how much I’ve carried quietly for a long time.
Lately, I’m noticing how tired that part of me is — the part that learned to hold without asking. This season doesn’t feel like it’s asking me to explain myself or rush toward meaning. It’s asking me to listen, to rest, and to let something old soften without forcing it to disappear. I’m learning that release doesn’t always feel like relief. Sometimes it feels like quiet — and sometimes, that’s enough.
Staying connected to astrology right now — through daily meditations and reflection — has helped me trust that this sensitivity is part of a cycle, not a problem to solve.
Support, Rest, and Relearning Capacity
I’m also navigating the practical side of care right now — scheduling follow-ups, including an upcoming ENT appointment in Albuquerque, and coordinating next steps and other associated travel.
At the same time, I’m noticing how limited my social and conversational capacity is. Phone calls and plans take more energy than usual, and I’m learning to name that honestly instead of pushing through it.
There have been real rest days in this stretch — slow mornings, basketball games, gentle PT, cross-stitching, and long naps. I can feel creative energy stirring, even if it’s not ready to fully emerge yet.
One night brought an especially uplifting Nuggets game — depleted roster, full heart, and a win that felt genuinely inspiring. I was buoyed by it for hours — ok, still am!
Intentions, Evolving
I started the year with a clean-slate mindset — not in the sense of erasing what came before, but in choosing how I meet what’s here now. Today, that intention sharpened into something more specific: noticing what’s going right.
It’s subtle, but it’s helping. Frustrations still arise, but they don’t lodge as deeply. They pass through more easily when I’m not gripping them.
There’s still a lot unfolding — continued healing, reconnecting with my local care team, and a sense that possibility is slowly re-entering the picture. I’m not rushing toward plans, but I can feel space opening where there wasn’t much before.
With that space comes something I haven’t felt in a long time: choice. This year, I can feel the difference between having to say no and getting to decide. No will still be the right answer plenty of the time — but yes is available again, too. There are people I’m excited to see, including time with my brother later this winter, and ideas beginning to take shape. I’m holding them lightly, knowing I don’t have to commit yet — just noticing that possibility is back in the room, or will be soon.
When Progress is Quiet | Days 30-34 of left hip recovery • January 7-11
Intentions as Anchors
I’ve been continuing the intention-setting challenge this month, and it’s been surprisingly grounding. Themes like joy, choosing simplicity without guilt, compassion, and remembering my agency keep resurfacing. I’ve also found several meditations around boundaries especially helpful — reminders that protecting my energy is part of healing, not a detour from it.
These practices have been steady companions as I navigate a part of recovery that feels familiar — and still hard.
This Phase of Healing
This is the stretch where my nervous system tends to panic: when improvement hasn’t clearly arrived yet, when pain fluctuates, and when progress feels subtle instead of obvious. It happened during my last recovery too — and eventually, it did turn.
Working with Chappy to lay out timelines from my right hip recovery alongside what’s unfolding on the left has helped me see patterns more clearly: pain and discomfort rising and falling, pain management shifts, returning to trusted local providers, the importance of social support, and how deeply mental health is woven into physical healing.
I can feel myself struggling emotionally, and I’m taking that seriously. I don’t want to slip into the hole I found myself in last time. Seeing my therapist again helped immensely, as did returning to tools I know support my nervous system — including regulation practices, energy work, and naming triggers instead of pushing through them.
Advocating for Safety
One of the most meaningful steps this week was reaching out to my PT clinic to be very clear about what I need right now. I realized I was holding too much internally — trying to adapt to circumstances that didn’t feel safe for my body or nervous system — instead of asking directly for continuity and support.
Naming that I’m in a particularly fragile phase, and that feeling held and deeply understood in PT directly affects how my body tolerates movement and pain, felt vulnerable but necessary. The response I received was thoughtful and reassuring, and it reminded me that advocacy can be an act of self-care.
A snow day gave me the chance to cancel an appointment, do PT gently at home, and catch up on other things. It was a beautiful, quiet day — and a good reminder that flexibility matters right now.
Support, Stress, and Small Wins
There’s been a lot happening at home, including a sick dog and a duck murder — which has been stressful and has definitely affected my nervous system and pain levels. On days when walking feels harder or pain spikes, I can often trace it back to overdoing things or moving without mindfulness when I’m already keyed up.
At the same time, there have been real bright spots. Basketball continues to be genuinely fun to watch. I started Slow Horses from the beginning, revisited some old Survivor seasons, and found my way back to cross stitch — a deeply meditative practice for me right now. I won’t spoil what I’m making, but returning to it feels like reconnecting with a quieter part of myself.
A nearly two-hour call with my best friend left me feeling deeply connected and supported, and a friend coming by to help at home made the days feel more manageable. Most notably, I slept almost eight hours for the first time in a long while. A carefully chosen nighttime combination — kids’ Dimetapp, a low dose of THC/CBD/CBN, melatonin, L-theanine, and magnesium — has given me three nights of real rest. That alone has shifted things.
Finding Ways to Relax
I’ve also shifted how I use the CPM. Because it’s been malfunctioning, I don’t trust it overnight anymore, so I’ve been using it during the day instead. What I’m noticing is that even on high-pain days — when moving around feels daunting — the CPM helps keep gentle movement and blood flow in my leg while allowing me to actually relax. That feels significant.
I keep thinking about something my PT said during my last recovery: to notice the moments when I’m truly able to relax — because they’re rare — and to hold onto them. That guidance feels especially relevant now. I’m deeply relieved to be returning to the care of the two physical therapists who supported me last time — people who understand my body, my history, and how central nervous system safety is to my healing.
Looking Ahead, Carefully
Even in the midst of all this, I can feel something opening. I’m beginning to plan for the first half of the year — travel for fun, basketball games, follow-up visits, family and friend time in Colorado and Albuquerque, weddings, and other things that feel genuinely exciting.
I’m holding those plans lightly, knowing my capacity will ebb and flow. But the ability to imagine them at all feels like progress.
I’ve also been slowly reworking parts of this website — not to erase what’s come before, but to better reflect where I am now. Less crisis-oriented, more grounded in the ongoing work of living, healing, and integrating. It feels important to let the container evolve alongside me.
January: gradually return to regular Taos provider appointments as able (bodywork, therapy, pain specialist, naturopath, energy work and nervous system support)
1/12–1/25: Gradual progression toward 75% weightbearing (only if gait is clean)
1/26-3/9: Weight bearing as tolerated, still working within some restrictions
2/8-12: Denver
2/10: 8 week L Hip PAO Post-Op
2/20-24: Patrick bday trip - Salida
3/2-10: Denver
3/4: L Hip Arthroscopy Post-Op
3/9: Eye Specialist
3/10-14: T+P trip to San Fran
TBD: return to run, impact, and higher intensity exercise
