I thought the hardest part of getting PRP would be the procedure itself.
It wasn’t.
The hardest part has been everything that came after. The slowing down. The sitting still. The asking for help. The looking around my house and schoolroom and thinking, I should be doing something right now.
That has been the real challenge for me.
And if you’re a mom, especially a homeschooling mom, I have a feeling you understand exactly what I mean.
When You’re Used to Being the One Who Carries It
Most of us are used to being the helper.
We’re the ones who remember what everyone needs. We make meals, solve problems, homeschool our kids and somehow keep all the pieces moving.
So when something happens that forces us to slow down, even temporarily, it can feel surprisingly uncomfortable. Not just physically. Emotionally too.
That’s what I’ve been learning.
The Part I Didn’t Expect
After PRP, I needed help. Not dramatic, emergency-level help. Just regular, everyday help.
Help reaching for things. Help carrying things. Help with tasks I normally would have just pushed through and done myself without thinking twice.
And honestly? That was harder for me than I expected.
I’m much better at taking care of other people than I am at letting someone take care of me.
There it is.
That’s the lesson.
I don’t think I’m alone in that.
There is something in so many of us that wants to keep going, keep managing, keep proving that we’re fine. We tell ourselves it’s easier to just do it ourselves. We’ll rest later. We’ll slow down when things calm down. We just need to get through this week first.
But sometimes our body, our emotions, or our circumstances make the decision for us.
Why Slowing Down Feels So Hard
Slowing down can make us feel unproductive. Vulnerable. Behind. It can bring up all the things we usually outrun by staying busy.
When I had to sit and rest, I noticed how quickly my mind went to all the things I wasn’t doing.
The schoolroom.
The house.
The routines.
The things I normally enjoy, like exercise and pickleball.
I missed the movement. I missed the momentum. I missed feeling capable.
And yet, right in the middle of that, I felt the Lord gently showing me something:
Rest is not wasted time.
Healing is not falling behind.
Receiving care is not weakness.
Real Life Wellness Is More Than Doing More
We talk a lot about wellness, and I love that. I’m all for simple swaps, healthy habits, cleaner products, good food, and practical ways to support your home and family.
But real life wellness is bigger than all of that.
Sometimes wellness looks like:
- drinking more water
- taking a walk
- making a nourishing meal
- getting outside
- turning off your phone a little earlier
And sometimes wellness looks like:
- saying no
- letting someone help
- taking a nap
- canceling plans
- trusting that healing takes time
- watching Star Trek reruns
That counts too. Actually, I think that matters more than we realize.
Because if we only value the parts of wellness that feel productive, we miss something important. We start treating rest like a reward instead of a need. We start believing that slowing down has to be earned.
But that is not how God designed our bodies. And it’s not a peaceful way to live either.
Letting Someone Else Carry It
One of the unexpected gifts in this season has been letting Peter help me more.
Not because I wanted to need help, but because needing help revealed how tightly I hold onto being the one who manages everything.
I like being capable. I like being useful. I like being the one who can make things happen.
But there is humility in receiving. There is softness in it too.
It reminds me that I was never meant to carry everything on my own. It reminds me that family is not just about what I give, but also about being willing to receive love and care when I need it.
That doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m still learning it. One day at a time.
Maybe This Is Part of Enjoying Summer Too
This season has also made me think differently about what it means to enjoy summer.
Maybe enjoying summer doesn’t always mean doing more.
Maybe sometimes it means a slower morning. A changed plan. A quieter day. A little less striving. Maybe the gift is not in packing more in, but in letting some things go.
I’m Still Learning
I wish I could tie this up with a neat little bow and tell you I’ve mastered it.
I haven’t.
My instinct is still to push. To do one more thing. To get up too soon. To believe that if I can just stay on top of things, I’ll feel more at peace.
But I’m learning that peace does not come from constantly proving I can handle everything.
Sometimes peace comes from surrender. From trusting the healing process. From accepting help. From letting rest be part of the plan instead of the thing we feel guilty about.
So if you’re in a season where you can’t do it all, or you’re finding it hard to slow down, I just want to encourage you:
You’re not failing.
You don’t have to carry it all.
You’re allowed to rest.
You’re allowed to receive care.
And maybe, just maybe, that is part of living well too.
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