Healing Isn’t Always Dramatic (Sometimes It’s Quiet)
A week ago, I had a hysterectomy, and it’s been a bit strange because it almost feels like nothing happened.
There’s no dramatic moment. No big emotional wave. No sense of “everything has changed.” Just small, quiet evidence that something very real did, in fact, happen. The kind of evidence that shows up when I move a little too fast. Or when I remember I’m not allowed to lift more than ten pounds.
Which, for the record, includes Remi, and it’s just a bit annoying and inconvenient.
If you’ve ever tried to explain to a dog that they are temporarily too heavy for your current life situation, you’ll understand. He doesn’t get it. I don’t get it. But here we are, negotiating logistics like who rides where, so I can start walking again in a few days.
Because that’s the other thing, even though recovery has been smoother than I expected, it’s still recovery.
I’m moving. I’m taking the dogs out every couple of hours. I’m not stuck in bed. But I’m also sitting. A lot. More than I’m used to. More than I like. And there’s this constant awareness in the background: don’t overdo it, don’t rush it, don’t pretend you’re fine just because you feel okay. And man, that’s hard.
Feeling okay doesn’t mean you are fully healed. It just means your body is doing its job quietly, without making a scene.
I’m used to action. To movement. To being on the trail or at my worktable, burning wood, creating something tangible with fire. That rhythm is part of how I process, how I think, how I move through the world.
Right now, that’s paused, but it doesn’t mean I am doing nothing. I shifted to what I can do.
I started working on my first official pattern collection:
Celestial Nursery — a seamless pattern bundle filled with moons, stars, clouds, and sleepy sheep drifting through a dreamy night sky.
I can sit in my recliner, laptop in front of me, building something piece by piece without pushing my body past where it needs to be. It’s creative work that meets me where I am instead of demanding I be somewhere else.
That’s the lesson in all of this. Not everything has to stop just because something changes, but not everything gets to continue the same way either.
There’s a middle space. A quieter pace. One that doesn’t look impressive from the outside but is actually doing a lot of work underneath.
That’s where I am right now.
Healing. Adjusting. Creating differently.
And, if I’m being honest, kind of curious to see what comes out of this slower season before I rush back to the next burn.
