A Little Too Much.

May 27, 2025.

14:14

This morning, I woke up feeling amazing.

Not just “not bad,” or “a bit better,” but truly amazing. I felt light, hopeful—even energized. For the first time in a while, I thought to myself, Maybe I’m turning a corner. Maybe I’m finally coming back to me.

On most mornings, I do a ten-minutes stretch—something simple, soft, and manageable. It’s been my rhythm since a few weeks ago in this recovery season. But today, I thought, You know what? Let’s see what I can really do. I pulled up the same YouTube channel I always use and found a 30-minute version of the stretches I’m familiar with.

I didn’t even hesitate. I just hit play.

And I finished the whole thing.

I can’t lie—I was proud of myself. It felt like I was leveling up. Like I had crossed over from being “in recovery” to maybe, just maybe, being “recovered.” I stepped into the shower smiling. Warm water, clean skin, and a quiet but deep sense of pride washing over me. I’m getting back to myself. Finally.

But then the rest of the day happened.

The first sign that something was off? I couldn’t stop eating. I had breakfast. Then I had... breakfast again. And even after that, I didn’t feel settled. My body felt drained, like someone had pulled the plug on my energy. Still, I tried to push through. I sat down to write, to get into the flow of my usual tasks.

But I couldn’t focus. My brain felt foggy. My limbs, heavy. My thoughts were scattered, and everything in me was screaming to stop. Eventually, I had to listen. I climbed back into bed and stayed there, wrapped in a quiet kind of disappointment.

It hit me then—I had done a little too much.

This wasn’t a failure. It was a reminder. A reminder that feeling good doesn’t mean I’m all the way healed. A reminder that recovery has layers. Just because my body had one good morning didn’t mean it was ready to go full steam ahead. I knew this, but I forgot. Or maybe I just wanted to believe I was further along than I actually am.

The truth is, the doctors told me from the start: Your full recovery could take two years. And here I am, a year in, still tempted to rush the process.

But healing isn’t something you conquer. It’s something you listen to. And today, my body spoke up.

It told me:

“Thank you for trying.”

“But I’m not ready for that pace yet.”

“Please go slower.”

So now I’m writing this down, partly so I don’t forget, and partly because I know I’m not the only one who needs to hear it. Sometimes when we feel better, we get excited. We want to reclaim everything we lost. We want to move faster, stretch farther, do more.

But sometimes a good day is just that—a good day. Not a sign to overreach. Just a gentle gift. One we’re meant to enjoy, not overuse.

Here’s what I’m reminding myself:

A step forward doesn’t mean you need to leap.

You don’t owe anyone fast progress—not even yourself.

Being gentle with your body is a kind of strength, too.

Tomorrow will still be waiting if you choose rest today.

So yeah, today I did a little too much.

But tomorrow, I’ll aim for just enough.

And that’s more than okay.

Sigh! I can drag myself out of bed for the second time today now. I wonder what to have for lunch. Ah! Yes! That will be so yummy! 😋