Coming back from medical setbacks—especially the kind that knock you down hard and without warning—isn’t just about healing the body. It’s about rebuilding your sense of self. It’s frustrating, exhausting, and often completely out of your control.

I know this firsthand—I’ve been living with a severe case of Crohn’s disease since 2008. I’ve been close to losing my life 3 times, major surgeries, months in the hospital, and long stretches of being physically disabled have reshaped how I move through the world.

The hardest part? It wasn’t losing strength. It was losing a version of myself I didn’t realize I’d miss so much.

But the truth is, this process teaches you something most people never get the chance to learn—how to keep going when everything feels like it’s been taken from you. How to rebuild not just stronger muscles, but stronger perspective.

The steps in this guide won’t fix everything, and certainly not overnight. But they will give you a place to start, and something to return to when things feel shaky. Let it be messy. Let it be slow. Just don’t stop. Every time you show up for yourself—even a little—you’re shaping the version of you that gets back up. And that version? That one is powerful.

You’re not just recovering. You’re discovering what you’re made of. Keep going.

Chronic pain doesn’t just affect your muscles or joints—it can pull your whole mood down with it. Research shows that people dealing with long-term pain are up to 4 times more likely to deal with depression, and it’s no wonder. When your body becomes a source of discomfort, it’s hard to feel hopeful, energized, or motivated.

This is where rolling, stretching, and gentle mobility work come in. You need soften tension, increase circulation, and send your nervous system a signal that it’s safe to let go. If you aren’t sure where to start, get in touch with a professional that can give you starting points.

Some days, I treat it like a job: I stretch what’s tight. I roll what’s stuck. I breathe into the places that feel closed off. Not because I want to be “flexible,” but because I want to feel at home in my body again.

Getting more comfortable in your body looks like:

• Prioritizing daily mobility and stretching, especially in areas that feel restricted or achey
• Using tools like foam rollers, massage balls, or gentle movement flows to release tension
• Getting a massage, if that’s accessible to you
• Acknowledging this is essential care, not optional extras

Comfort is not a luxury—it’s the baseline for everything else. And the more you move with care, the more your body remembers how to trust itself again.

You’ve got to get stronger, your body needs support. Find your green zone—the movements that feel safe, grounding, and doable—it’s the start of seeing ability in your body. That’s huge. Once these are established, you can start building on them, progressing into strength-building with these as your base, and with more confidence. It allows you to grow from a place of stability.

This is where power plays come in.

Power plays are the specific, targeted actions that support your recovery and help you build capacity in the areas that matter most. They aren’t random exercises or flashy moves—they’re the ones that meet your body where it is and move it forward.

When you’ve been dealing with injury, illness, or physical setbacks, it’s tempting to throw everything at the problem. But the truth is, focused strength is more effective than scattered effort. The goal is to figure out where your body needs support, then strengthen those systems to reduce pain, improve function, and increase confidence.

For example:

• If your knees have been limiting you, your power play might be quad and hamstring strength to support joint alignment and stability.
• If your back feels unpredictable or vulnerable, core and glute strength can provide the foundation your spine needs.
• If your hips or hip flexors feel tight or unstable, building strength in the hip flexors, glutes, and core can create balance and freedom of movement.
• If you’ve had abdominal surgery, learning to regulate the pressure in your abdomen and control of your pelvis and ribs will help you recover fully.

This step is where real momentum starts to build—because now your body isn’t just surviving. It’s learning to support you again.

When physical ability starts slipping, so does the joy that comes with movement. It’s something most people aren’t prepared for. Movement that used to feel good can feet hard, unpredictable, or even scary at times. And with that, joy became harder to find. But here’s the good news—joy can return. It’s not a matter of waiting until I’m “better,” but of creating space for it now, in the small moments.

Here’s how I’m starting to find joy again:

• Time limits on Trauma reflection-It can be very easy to reflect at length about what’s happened TO you. I set a firm time limit on this reflection and have trained my brain to move on. I don’t let myself live in anxiety or grief.
• Nightly joy checkin—Every night I recount the things that feel better, the things I did that day that I couldn’t on my worst days. It’s easy to overlook progress, but it’s there if you look for it.
• Celebrating functional wins—Like carrying the dog food bag without fear or hesitation. It’s a big deal, even if it’s small.
• Play counts—Goofy dance breaks, tugging with my dogs, or laughing at silly moments. Play isn’t a “bonus”—it’s a necessary part of healing.
• Cultivating pride after movement—When I’m able to stretch, move, or exercise without pain or fear, I remind myself to feel proud.
• Reminding myself-I deserve to feel proud of myself and find joy now, not just “when I’m better”—This has been key. I’m learning that joy isn’t an end goal—it’s a part of the process.

When you’re rebuilding your strength, it’s easy to get stuck in the gap between where you are and where you used to be. That gap can feel discouraging—especially if your body once moved easily, recovered quickly, or kept up with everything you asked of it.

When progress feels slow, it’s natural to fixate on limitations. But I’ve realized that the most powerful way to move forward is to stop looking backward.

A grand vision is always the best place to start. Not because everything will look or feel exactly like it used to—but because a clear, deeply personal vision creates direction.

It reminds you of who you are, what you care about, and where you’re headed. For me, that vision includes feeling strong and capable again, confident in my body, and free to move without hesitation or fear.

Keeping that vision in sight pulls me through the days that don’t feel worth it. The slow ones. The heavy ones. The ones where rest feels safer than trying. That long-term picture gives weight to the smallest effort, meaningful steps on the path home to myself.

Coming back from medical setbacks is never a simple or linear journey. It’s complex, and there will be days where the road feels long and uncertain. But by using the steps above as a guide, you have a framework to approach this process—one step at a time. There will be challenges, and there will be moments where progress feels slow, but remember: it’s all progress. You will find your way.

Keep trying, keep showing up, and keep going. Your strength is built not in perfection, but in persistence. Every small effort, every setback, and every win is part of the story of your comeback. You’ve got this. The future is still yours to create, and you’re already moving toward it.