🌀Mood: grateful, reflective, healing, hopeful

Tomorrow, I go back to work. Half days. Slowly.

That sentence feels much bigger than it probably sounds.

For weeks, so many people have been counting down to this moment for me. “Getting back to normal.” “Getting back to life.” And in many ways, I understand why. Returning to work after a stem cell transplant feels like progress. It is progress.

But today, if I’m honest, I’m scared.

Not because I don’t love my team or the work I do. I do. Very much.

I’m scared of slipping back into the version of myself that existed before all of this.

The version that carried stress like it was normal.
The version that pushed through exhaustion.
The version that felt responsible for everything and everyone.
The version that believed constant pressure was just part of leadership and success.

I can’t go back to that version.

My body has made that very clear.

A stem cell transplant changes you physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Yes, my numbers are improving. Yes, I’m grateful to be recovering well. And I truly thank God for how far I’ve come already.

But recovery does not end because I am returning to work.

In many ways, this is still very much the middle of the story.

My immune system is still rebuilding.
My body is still healing.
I still have to be incredibly careful.
I still tire more easily than people probably realize.
And I am still learning what this “new normal” looks like.

My doctors would actually prefer that I focus fully on recovery longer, but we created a phased return plan as a compromise. Half days. Slow steps. One day at a time.

And maybe that’s what this season is teaching me:
That healing is not about proving how quickly you can return to your old life.

Maybe healing is about learning how to return differently.

With more peace.
More boundaries.
More perspective.
More grace for yourself.
Less urgency around everything.

I don’t fully know what tomorrow will feel like yet.

Part of me is excited.
Part of me is emotional.
Part of me is deeply grateful.
And part of me is afraid.

But I do know this:
I did not go through everything I just survived to immediately abandon my recovery the moment life starts moving again.

So tomorrow is not a finish line.

It’s simply another step in the rebuild.