No Resolutions, Just Forward Motion.

It’s almost Christmas, and I had every intention of reeling in the spending this year.

Every intention.

It’s not working.

I love buying gifts. Always have. There’s something about finding the thing that makes someone light up that gets me every time. So here I am, telling myself this is the last one… and then immediately finding another. No regrets—just mild budget anxiety and a very full Amazon cart.

I might even be getting myself a gift soon, too. Not wrapped. Not sparkly. But meaningful: possibly being released from physical therapy.

I have a follow-up doctor’s appointment in a couple of weeks, and while that should feel exciting, I’m a little skeptical. The muscle weakness is still there. My PT has been incredible, but even she’s admitted she’s a bit stumped. Two back-to-back injuries will do that, apparently. Healing isn’t always linear, and sometimes the body just… takes its time.

That said—progress is happening.

I can finally go downstairs without holding the handrails.

Unless I’m carrying something.

Laundry basket? Absolutely not.

Let’s not get reckless.

Still, those little wins matter. A lot.

I’m trying to slow down and actually take it all in. That’s not my natural state. My body does not take kindly to sitting still. But this season has forced me to listen—to move intentionally, to rest without guilt, to redefine what “doing enough” looks like.

Somewhere along the way, without making it the main focus, I’ve lost about 15 pounds through intermittent fasting. After this injury, I promised myself I’d come back better than where I started—not just physically, but mentally. Stronger. More aware. More patient with my body instead of constantly fighting it.

There are days when my knee still aches. Deep, dull, persistent. And on those days, I still move—maybe not hard, maybe not fast—but I move. Even if it’s just taking the dog for a long walk. Motion is medicine for me. Always has been.

The kids are off school for two weeks for winter break, and we don’t have a big plan. We’re going to keep it simple. Maybe a few movies. Maybe some spontaneous outings. Maybe a lot of sweatpants and snacks. Honestly? That sounds perfect.

As I look ahead, I’m realizing something important:

I’m not making New Year’s resolutions.

I’m done with the “new year, new me” mindset.

This isn’t a reset—it’s a continuation.

2024 and 2025 have been about healing.

Physically. Emotionally. Quietly.

The kind of healing that doesn’t photograph well or fit into a neat caption.

Now it’s time to start living again.

I’m looking forward to 2026—not because I think it will be easy, but because I know I won’t stop. Every year brings challenges. I expect nothing less. But I also know this:

I will get stronger.

I will keep moving forward.

I will thrive—no matter what comes next.

Not because everything is perfect.

But because I refuse to quit.

And honestly?

That’s the best gift I could give myself.