Though I am home, I am still in recovery. It has been three weeks since I left. The journey to health has been more of a mental struggle for me, than anything else. The doctors told me to rest for one full month, before returning back to my normal workouts...and it is KILLING me to follow instructions. My treadmill, weights, and kickboxing dummy are SCREAMING for me to come play. My body feels one hundred percent better. But misreading my body is how I ended up in the hospital, in the first place. I was pushing myself, despite the clear signs that I was ill. My thinking needs to be rewired. I am learning how to be kind to myself. Actually, I am reeducating myself about the definition of kind. Kind does not mean to-endure-pain. Enduring pain is not proof of how strong I am. Pain means something needs to change; that includes toxic relationships...but thats an entirely different blog. For now, I am on the physical aspect of learning how to treat myself kindly. And for now, that means listening to the doctor and rest. However, as soon as I get the okay, I am back to working out. I need to rebuild all the muscle mass I lost. But it is better to loose a few pounds of muscle, than to loose my life.
Hold your loved ones close, and your happiness closer.