When healing takes time!.

I went into this year with intention. Clear goals. A vision. Faith that my health would finally return to “normal.”

But here I am - still tired. Still bloated. Still struggling to get through the workday.

And if I’m honest, I feel a little defeated.

The part no one prepares you for

No one tells you how discouraging it is when you do all the right things - change your food, take the supplements, pray, rest when you can — and your body still doesn’t cooperate.

The fatigue I experience isn’t the kind that a good night’s sleep fixes. It’s deep. Heavy. Draining.

By the time I get home from work, I have nothing left. Not for my dreams. Not for my plans. Sometimes not even for myself.

Ironically, I can still think. I can still plan. I can still want. But my body is exhausted - and it always has the final say.

Working while unwell is its own kind of battle

When you’re employed, your time belongs to someone else during the day. So even when your energy is low, you push through meetings, screens, deadlines.

Then evening comes - the time that’s supposed to be yours - and all you want to do is sleep.

That’s the cruel paradox: You have dreams, but no energy. You have vision, but no strength. You have motivation, but no fuel.

And over time, that disconnect starts to mess with your spirit.

The grief we don’t talk about

There’s a quiet grief in chronic or prolonged illness.

Grief for:

• the version of yourself you thought you’d be by now

• the momentum you imagined having

• the year you planned in your head

It’s not just physical exhaustion - it’s emotional mourning.

And that grief doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful. It means you’re human.

A gentle truth I’m learning

Healing is not linear. And it rarely follows our timelines.

Especially when your body has endured:

• surgery

• long-term stress

• responsibility without rest

• years of pushing through

Sometimes the body chooses repair over performance - no matter how ready your mind is to move forward.

That doesn’t mean nothing is working. It may mean your body is still rebuilding foundations you can’t yet see.

Maybe this isn’t a “building” season

I’m slowly accepting that this might not be my year of acceleration.

It might be my year of stabilising.

Of learning my body. Of listening instead of forcing. Of staying afloat rather than sprinting ahead.

And stabilising is not failure.

It’s survival. It’s wisdom. It’s planting seeds quietly.

Many powerful stories don’t begin with strength — they begin with stillness.

If you’re here too

If you’re reading this and feeling:

• tired of trying

• frustrated with slow healing

• guilty for needing rest

• afraid you’ll never feel like yourself again

I see you.

You are not lazy.

You are not weak.

You are not falling behind.

You are healing - even if it doesn’t look the way you hoped.

And for now, that is enough.