Emily is a registered nurse, a wife, and a member of our community living with complex chronic illness. This season has asked her to slow down in ways she never expected. Instead of resetting, reinventing, or pushing through, Emily is learning what it means to stay present with her body as it is, to honor limits without shame, and to find strength in softness. Her reflections remind us that healing doesn’t always look like progress on the outside. Sometimes it looks like listening, releasing, and choosing care in quieter ways. Continue reading to learn more.
Letting Go of Who I Used to Be
I’m still learning how to let go of the version of myself who could push through anything without consequences. Chronic illness has taught me that my body has limits I can’t negotiate with, no matter how much I wish I could. Letting go of that old expectation feels painful, but it also creates space for a gentler life — one built on listening to my body rather than fighting it. I think once I finally release that pressure, I’ll be able to experience moments of peace without guilt, and celebrate the small wins with a softer heart.
The Moment That Changed Me
The moment that changed me was when we paused my TPN because my body couldn’t tolerate it anymore. It was such a sharp reminder of how complex my health has become, and it forced me to face the uncertainty of not knowing how my body will respond day-to-day. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that moment shifted something inside me. It made me more honest about my fragility, more aware of how much I’ve been carrying, and more willing to admit when I’m scared. I’m only now realizing it also made me stronger in a quieter, more grounded way.
Staying Grounded When the World Feels Loud
Slowing down on purpose. My body already forces slowness, but choosing it — rather than resisting it — helps me stay connected to who I am beneath the symptoms and appointments. Warm lighting, quiet moments with my husband, and grounding myself by noticing my breath or placing a hand on my heart all help me stay present. When the world feels loud, I remind myself that I’m allowed to step back, to rest, and to let this season look different for me.
Choosing Myself in Small, Honest Ways
I’m choosing to acknowledge my limits out loud, not just to myself but to others. I’m giving myself permission to say “I can’t do that right now” without overexplaining or apologizing. For the first time, I’m treating my needs as valid rather than inconvenient. That boundary feels like a tiny act of rebellion — and an act of self-respect I’ve avoided for far too long.
Hoping for Gentle Beginnings
I hope gentler days find me — days where my symptoms ease even a little, where eating doesn’t feel like a battle, where my body softens instead of fights. And beyond the physical, I hope a sense of steadiness returns. Not perfection, not a miracle cure — just a small, steady peace that lets me breathe a little deeper and trust that I’m still moving forward, even when progress is slow.
Continue the Conversation
Emily’s story is a reminder that healing doesn’t require a reset — just permission to keep going as you are.
Continue reading to learn more stories from our community and how No Reset Required creates space for care, connection, and progress without pressure.
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