Three years ago, my life changed in an instant.
A careless driver, distracted by a phone, ran a red light—and in that moment, everything shifted. What followed was not just a car accident, but the beginning of a long, painful journey marked by a bulged disc, a tear, and daily physical and emotional battles I never imagined I’d face.
Since then, I have done everything imaginable to heal.
Physical therapy. Strength training. Rest. Movement. Research. Specialists. Alternative therapies. Endless appointments. Endless hope. Endless setbacks.
And still, I live with daily, often devastating pain.
As someone who has built her life around movement—as an athlete, yoga teacher, and personal trainer—this injury didn’t just affect my body. It shook my identity.
Movement has always been my medicine.
The gym.
Running.
Softball.
Yoga.
Climbing mountains.
Road cycling.
Rollerblading.
These weren’t just hobbies. They were how I processed life. How I coped with heartbreak. How I found clarity. How I stayed grounded. How I healed emotionally.
They were my drug of choice in the healthiest sense.
And suddenly, so much of that was taken away.
Losing that outlet has been one of the most indescribably difficult parts of this journey. When your body has always been your sanctuary, watching it become your greatest challenge is heartbreaking.
The Mental Battle
What most people don’t see about chronic pain is this:
The physical pain is only part of it.
The mental and emotional toll is enormous.
Every day requires a choice.
Every day asks for resilience.
Every day demands courage.
Attitude is not just important—it is everything.
I’ve learned that mindset is more than half the battle.
Some days, staying positive feels natural.
Other days, it feels impossible.
Some days, hope feels strong.
Other days, it feels fragile.
But I keep choosing it anyway.
Because healing is not linear.
Because despair doesn’t serve recovery.
Because giving up isn’t an option.
Learning Pain Tolerance
Living with chronic spinal pain has taught me more about pain tolerance than any athletic training ever did.
I’ve had to learn how to “manually shift” through discomfort.
How to listen carefully to my body.
How to distinguish between productive effort and damaging strain.
How to honor my limits without surrendering to them.
As someone who has always pushed through challenges, this has been one of the hardest lessons of my life.
Strength now looks different.
It’s not about how much I lift.
It’s about how much I endure.
How much patience I practice.
How much compassion I give myself.
How I show up even when I don’t feel strong.
The Mountain Ahead
I am not “finished” healing.
I still have a mountain ahead of me.
Some days it looks climbable.
Some days it looks overwhelming.
But I keep climbing.
One step.
One breath.
One choice at a time.
I fight for my recovery every single day.
Through movement that feels safe.
Through rest when needed.
Through mindset work.
Through prayer, reflection, and deep inner work.
Through believing in my body even when it feels broken.
Why I’m Sharing This
I’m sharing my story because I know I’m not alone.
There are so many people silently living with pain.
So many people grieving the bodies they once had.
So many people feeling unseen in their struggle.
If that’s you, I want you to know:
You are not weak.
You are not failing.
You are not behind.
You are brave.
You are showing up in ways most people never have to.
Moving Forward
Spinal health is not just about posture and exercise.
It’s about patience.
Resilience.
Self-trust.
Hope.
It’s about learning to love yourself in a body that doesn’t always cooperate.
My journey is far from over.
But I am committed to walking it with courage, honesty, and faith in my own strength.
I am learning that healing isn’t just about returning to who I was.
It’s about becoming someone even deeper, wiser, and more compassionate than before.
And I will keep climbing.
I hope you keep climbing too. 🥊🥊🥊
XO T