Recovery doesn’t always go as planned—especially in midlife. Two weeks after surgery (and yes, a surprise catheter situation), I’m sharing what this healing process has really looked like, and how journaling has helped me stay grounded through it all. If you’re feeling tired, overwhelmed, or like your body and emotions are out of sync, this post is for you. I’ll walk you through a simple daily check-in I use in my own journal to support healing—physically and emotionally.
Two weeks ago, I had surgery.
I was told I’d need about two weeks to recover—maybe a little more—but in my mind, I thought: “I’m healthy, I’ll bounce back fast, and I’ll be doing gentle yoga and walking the loop in no time.”
Spoiler alert: that’s not how it went.
What actually happened was this: I came home with a catheter. Yes, a real one. I named him Mr. Pee-a-Lot because humour is one of the few tools I still had full access to. He stayed with me for almost two weeks—way longer than I expected—and became an unwanted but oddly consistent sidekick during a recovery that’s felt longer, slower, and a little lonelier than I had prepared for.
Today—hallelujah—Mr. Pee-a-Lot is officially gone. My surgeon called me and calmly walked me through the steps to remove it myself (because apparently, I’m now someone who removes her own catheter). And while I’m still sore, still tired, and still spending a lot of time horizontal, I’m also reflecting on everything this healing process has taught me so far.
And one thing keeps rising to the top: how much journaling has helped.
Not the picture-perfect kind of journaling. Not a bullet journal or a gratitude list with stickers and washi tape – not that there’s anything wrong with that! I’m talking about the kind of journaling that happens in bed, propped up by pillows, with one eye open, and a half-drunk cup of coffee on the nightstand. The kind where you write whatever comes out—even if it’s just “I feel gross today” or “My stomach hurts and I’m scared this will take forever.”
This is how I’ve stayed connected to myself.
Every day I’ve asked myself:
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How am I feeling physically?
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How am I feeling emotionally?
That’s it. Two questions. But they’ve been everything.
Because here’s the thing no one tells you when you’re healing: your body and your emotions are inextricably linked.
That’s called a somatic connection—and it’s not just woo-woo language from the yoga world. It’s real.
When I felt tension in my belly or sharp pain in my hips, my mood dipped. When I was anxious and spinning, my body clenched up, and I’d forget to breathe. Some days I felt fine physically, but emotionally I was frustrated, impatient, or even a little ashamed that I wasn’t healing “faster.”
And when I started journaling both pieces side by side—physical and emotional—it gave me insight. It gave me compassion. It let me hold space for both pain and progress.
And on the really tough days? It gave me a place to let it all out so I didn’t carry it around in my body like a suitcase full of bricks.
If you’re going through something—maybe you’re recovering from surgery, or maybe you’re just recovering from life—I want to gently offer you a journaling prompt that’s helped me every single day of this process:
Journaling Prompt:
How do I feel physically right now?
How do I feel emotionally?
That’s it.
Answer it honestly. No filters. No edits. No trying to make it sound good. Let the truth come out—whatever it is.
Even if you write, “Tired. Sad. Frustrated. But also proud of myself for making coffee.”
That’s enough. That’s powerful. That’s healing.
If you want a little more support in doing this kind of reflective work, my guided journal Breathe was designed exactly for moments like this. It includes simple daily prompts just like the one above, with space to check in with your emotions, your body, your thoughts—and space to breathe. It’s a small but mighty tool for women (especially midlife, overwhelmed, strong-as-hell women like us) who want to feel more grounded and present during hard seasons.
You can check it out right here, or if you’re local to Halifax, reply to this post or DM me—I’ve got journals on hand and my husband has turned into my delivery guy while I recover.
Thanks for being here.
Thanks for reading.
I’m still healing. Still tired. Still showing up. And yes—still journaling.
With love,
Jewels