This past month has been… a ride. Not the fun kind, either — more like a dizzying rollercoaster that you didn’t mean to get on, but now you’re halfway through and can’t scream loud enough to get off.
I’ve been in and out of the hospital because of my gallbladder. Yep, that tiny organ I never even thought about decided to turn my entire holiday season upside down. It started with a few stomach pains that I brushed off as stress or bad takeout. Then suddenly, I was curled up in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV, waiting for someone to tell me what was wrong.
When they said “You need surgery,” I just kind of froze. I’ve seen enough medical shows to know surgery isn’t the end of the world, but it’s different when it’s you on the table.
The procedure went fine — thank goodness — but recovery has been its own rollercoaster. Some days, I wake up feeling strong and grateful. Other days, I’m sore, bloated, emotional, and weirdly guilty for not being able to “bounce back” faster.
And then, of course, there are the holidays.
Normally, this time of year is my favorite — baking cookies, cozy nights with friends, wrapping gifts at 2 a.m. because I’m a last-minute queen. But this year? Everything feels slower. Quieter. I’ve had to sit out on events I was looking forward to, and that stung more than I expected. Watching everyone else carry on while I’m curled up under a blanket, sipping broth and trying not to cry — it’s been humbling.
But there’s also a strange kind of peace that comes with slowing down. When your body literally forces you to rest, you start noticing small things again. The softness of the lights. The way time stretches when you’re not rushing. How healing isn’t just physical — it’s emotional, too.
So yeah, my gallbladder tried to ruin my holidays. But in a way, it also reminded me what they’re really about. Not the chaos or the checklists — just being here, alive, surrounded by people who care, and letting yourself breathe.
If you’re reading this while going through something — whether it’s recovery, heartbreak, or just a rough patch — please know: you’re not alone. Take it one day, one hour, one moment at a time. You’re healing, even when it doesn’t feel like it.
Here’s to rest, resilience, and gentler days ahead. 💛
Xoxo
Maddy❤️
Rooted & Real 