For years, I lived with pain in my lower back. I tried everything, from chiropractic care, steroid injections, and nerve ablations, to PRP. I pushed through, like so many women do, thinking pain was just part of the deal.

But last year, after replacing my knee, a doctor took one look at my spine and found a 39-degree curve. I had scoliosis—significant, adult-onset, and rapidly worsening. It wasn’t just pain anymore. It was a structural crisis—a wake-up call.

In April, I underwent two major surgeries to fuse my lower lumbar spine. They straightened me out with titanium rods and screws, aligning my spine from L1 to my sacrum (my bra line to butt crack).  I came out of that operating room changed—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.\

Recovery hasn’t been easy. I estimated about 4 weeks of recovery. I planned to attend a women’s conference in Seattle a month out.  Yeah, NO!  I am 8 weeks post-surgery today, and I’m still walking the line between fierce independence and vulnerable surrender. I’ve had to learn how to ask for help, how to sit with discomfort, and how to let go of who I used to be, because she can’t carry me or others the way she used to anymore. Literally.

What This Has Taught Me

This isn’t just a story about back surgery. This is a story about second chances. A second chance to:

  • Gain more clarity about what is working and what it is time to let go of.
  • To set boundaries on what I am saying yes to and what no matter how badly I would like to, is a no.
  • See my inherent value versus my identity in what I do and how I show up in the world.  I humbly recognize that life, my work, and the world operate independently of me.  Who knew?
  • Friends cannot always be there for you.  Life is juicy, and we are all experiencing our own shit.
  • To purge as much shit as possible while I can.  Nobody wants to go through my old photos, little sentimental knick-knacks, or the massive amount of clothes that I have and never wear.  I hired help for this part, which is also humbling.
  • I am learning to trust my body again, and know every day it is doing its part to heal.  My attitude is everything.  When people ask me how I am doing, I say, “better and better every day.”
  • Being still and alone has helped me heal not just physically but emotionally.  I never knew how much unresolved grief I carried.  I had kept myself so busy that I did not allow my feelings to be fully expressed.  Now, all I have to do is lie down on my bed and the tears come. Ah- stillness.
  • Finally, I will stop hustling and start honoring my needs.  One of my favorite sayings is, “I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know who holds the future.”  My faith is deep and wide.

I used to see pain as the enemy. Now, I see it as a teacher. I used to think that slowing down was a failure. Now, I know it’s sacred. This journey cracked me open—and what poured out was a fierce kind of love. For my body. For my breath. For the chance to begin again.

An Invitation to My Fellow Second Chancers

If you’ve been through a health crisis or are in one now…I see you.

I want to hear your story. Your spine, your heart, your diagnosis, your healing path.
What did it break open in you? What did it teach you? -What do you now know that you didn’t before?

Please drop a comment, send a message, or tag me in your story using at #SecondChancers. I’ll read some of these in an upcoming Second Chances podcast.

Because this isn’t just about me. This is about all of us—reclaiming our bodies, our voices, our power, one second chance at a time.

With a mended spine and an open heart,
Xo Christy