Life Lessons I’ve Learned During My Recovery Journey

How have y’all been? I’ve been over here slowly getting through this recovery process, and I just wanted to share a bit of my journey with you. This experience has really shifted my perspective on life in ways I didn’t expect. I’ve had some major realizations, and I thought maybe it might resonate with you too.

To be honest, I’ve realized I don’t have time for certain things anymore. I’ve grown tired of people who constantly complain but don’t do anything to change their situation. Life is too short for that. The little things I once took for granted? I’m cherishing them now—every single moment.

You see, every day is a blessing, and I wake up feeling grateful. It’s easy to get caught up in the rush of life, but I’ve learned that even the smallest things matter. Every step I take is a victory. Even though I’m still going through physical therapy, I’m trying to get my body back to a place where I can feel strong again.

I used to be able to lift heavy in the gym, y’all. Now, I’m squatting with a 2kg medicine ball (and let me tell you, it’s a struggle). I’ve lost a lot of strength. But here’s the thing: I’m giving myself grace. I remember a time when I couldn’t walk at all. So, every bit of progress counts.

Mentally though? It’s been a journey. This accident took a toll on me that I wasn’t prepared for. I’m still working through it. I’ve had sleepless nights filled with anxious thoughts. And when you’re forced to be still, it’s a lot of time to really think. To observe. To question everything around you. For someone like me who already tends to overthink, let’s just say my mind was racing.

But in all of this, God has been teaching me patience. Patience with myself. Patience with others. And above all, patience with the process. I’ve had to learn to accept help, something I’ve always struggled with. I’ve always been the strong one—the one who gets things done with or without help. But this season? It humbled me. And I’ve had to allow people to show up for me in ways I didn’t expect.

The beauty in this? It showed me who’s really in my corner. And that’s a gift, even if it stung a little at first. I’ve had friends show up in ways that moved me to tears—dropping off groceries, checking in, just being there. It wasn’t grand gestures, but it was everything. One of my close friends did a porch drop-off for my family. She knew I wasn’t going to ask for help, but she did it anyway. And that meant more than she’ll ever know. To have someone show up when you least expect it, that’s love in its purest form.

I had a client who kept checking in on me during my recovery. She knew I wouldn’t ask for help, so she took the initiative to help in the ways she knew how. She even made grocery runs for us—twice. And when she came by to drop off food, I was still using a walker. She told me, “I’m just trying to be for you what I wish someone had been for me.”That hit me deep. Because you never know what someone is going through, even if they seem like they have it all together.

This whole experience has taught me so much. I’ve learned that seasons change. People change. We change. And that’s okay. We’re not meant to stay the same. I’m not the same Denisha I was last year. I’m not the same Denisha I was a month ago. But I’m doing my best to be a better version of myself every day.

I’ve also learned this: nothing in life is promised. Nothing is guaranteed. But as long as we stay in tune with ourselves and our faith, we’ll make it through whatever comes our way.

So, to anyone out there who’s fighting those silent battles, the ones you don’t even talk about, I see you. Keep praying. Keep your faith. Because sometimes, God will send us what we think is the answer, just to test our faith. And you will come out stronger.

Thank you for reading and for always supporting me. If you’ve been through something similar, I’d love to hear how you’ve navigated it. And if you need a space to be real, drop a comment or reach out. You’re never alone in this.

Until next time, keep moving forward, no matter how small the steps.

With love,

Denisha