My hip felt off, like it wasn’t aligned with the rest of my body....

 

Trusting Yourself No Matter What!

For the last few weeks, Tobias and I lived in a rhythm that felt almost unreal.

Four weeks in an intensive speech therapy center. Seven therapies a day.

That’s not a typo. That’s a schedule that could make even the most energetic person look for a blanket and a quiet corner by 3 p.m. And Tobias—whose energy level simply isn’t the same since the brain bleed—was expected to show up again and again, with his whole self, in every session.

And you know what? When I really think about it, most of us would be tired after a long workday too. Eight hours, meetings, demands, decisions. We come home and want to eat, connect, and left alone for 30 minutes.

Tobias did it! Just a normal workday - with help of course - but he did it!

I felt  a bit like him —walking him from one therapy room to the next, trying to be the calm voice, the organizer, the cheerleader, the one who remembers the water bottle, the snack, the schedule, the paperwork, the “we can do this” face. I was tired in my bones to be honest at the end of the day. 

My back hurt. My hip felt off, like it wasn’t aligned with the rest of my body. Tendons, muscles—everything felt like it had a complaint. A lot was “off,” physically and emotionally. But we kept going. We made a commitment—and we carried hope like a lantern.

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The Thing That Pushed Me Through

What pushed Tobias and what pushed me wasn’t superhuman strength. It wasn’t “positive vibes only.” It wasn’t denial. It was commitment and hope. Very simple. If I go to work, I hope for my paycheck at the end of the month, and the benefits to protect my family. In his case, it was the hope to reach independence once more. 

Hope that all these different impulses—every exercise, every repetition, every tiny breakthrough—would matter. Hope that the process would continue after we left. Hope for the next five months, the next set of therapies at home, the next chapter and then in July to repeat this intensive program again!

We made a commitment… the kind that doesn’t sparkle, but stays. The quiet kind that says: We can do this. One step at a time. Sometimes the most spiritual sentence is not poetic at all. Sometimes it’s just: “Okay. Again.”

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The 30-Minute Rule (A Very Serious Strategy, Actually)

One of the most important parts of our day wasn’t therapy.

It was rest.

As soon as Tobias finished lunch, I let him rest in his bed for 30 minutes. That rest was the key for the rest of the day. Without it, the afternoon would wobble. With it, we had a chance.

And if I noticed he couldn’t get his 30 minutes—because something was off, because fatigue was too heavy, because his body needed more help—I stepped in. I helped him eat. I helped him slow down. I helped him protect the little energy he had left.

It sounds simple, but it wasn’t. Because when you’re in an intense program, you start thinking you need to squeeze every second for progress. More training. More speaking. More effort. But the brain doesn’t only grow through pushing. Sometimes it grows through resting.

And that’s one of the first places self-trust begins:
trusting your own observation, your own instincts, your own “this is what we need right now.”

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The Drive Home: Tired, Brave, and a Little Bit Wild

After the four weeks,  Tyler wanted to pick us up on a Saturday, and then we’d drive home on Sunday.

But we were done on Friday. And Tobias and I were so eager to get home that we changed the plan.

We had a fantastic meeting with all the therapists—one of those moments where you feel seen, supported, and hopeful. I packed up the night before. Then we got into the car after the meeting and left. We took maybe two small breaks on the way to Berlin. Seven hours later, we were home—sleeping in our own beds.

I was back with my husband. I got my cat back. And I swear, I wanted to kiss my kitchen and my office (hahaha). It felt that good to be home. Like my body exhaled for the first time in weeks.

Home is not just a place.
Sometimes home is a medicine.

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Ten Days Later: The Brain’s Mysterious Timing

We’ve been home for the past ten days now, and people are recognizing something:

Tobias is speaking more.

More words.
Different lines.
More spontaneous language.

I didn’t expect such a fast change, but here we are. And still—this is the strange truth of healing: It’s hard to say what the brain gives you back and when.

The brain doesn’t always follow our timeline. It doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t schedule breakthroughs on tidy calendar dates. Sometimes it’s silent for a while… and then suddenly, something opens.

One step at a time. And that’s where trust becomes more than a nice idea. It becomes the only way forward.

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Proud… and Still Afraid

How do I feel today? Proud - but why?

I handled Tobias by myself. The first two weeks, Tyler stayed with us, and it was nice—because we could share the load. Helping Tobias shower, coordinating everything, carrying the day together.

But then it was me.

I did the drive with Tobias by myself, and yes—I’m certainly proud of that too.

And still… I worry.

I still worry that he could have a seizure out of the blue. I’m still a bit traumatized.

People don’t always understand this part: you can be strong and scared. You can do hard things and carry a nervous system that remembers the worst day of your life like it happened yesterday.

So if you’re living in that tension—brave but shaky, grateful but anxious—I want you to know: You’re not failing. You’re human.

And trusting yourself doesn’t mean you never feel fear.
It means you keep moving while holding fear gently, instead of letting it drive the car.

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Trusting Yourself Again (And Also a Higher Power)

Since we’ve been home, life has been good. I’ve started to work on my business again. I enjoy writing and developing my website and services for children with learning difficulties. And I’m developing a workshop for people who want to improve cognitive skills after a stroke or TBI.

It’s fun to think creatively again. It’s fun to build again. But here’s what I learned from the past six weeks:

Nothing works for me without trust in myself.
And nothing works without trust in a higher power—one with endless love for me and everyone else on the planet.

Because self-trust is not arrogance.
It’s not “I don’t need anyone.”

Self-trust is this quiet agreement with your soul:

I will not abandon myself.

And when you pair that with faith—real faith, the kind built over countless personal experiences—you get something even stronger:

A steady kind of hope that doesn’t depend on perfect circumstances.

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People Are Worth It

I also learned this: People are worth it to succeed.

The love and guidance we receive isn’t just based on helplessness. It can be built on a testimony—one created through endless personal experiences of grace, strength, and “somehow we made it.”

As hard as life often gets, I am grateful I can live life. I have made it so far without giving up on the beauty of life. And Tobias—my great example of faith and inner strength—has not given up either.

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If You Needed a Sign Today, Let This Be It

So here’s what I hope you hear in all of this:

If you’re tired, you can still be trustworthy.
If you’re scared, you can still be brave.
If you don’t know what comes next, you can still take the next step.

Trust yourself enough to do the small things: rest when you need it - ask for help when you should.

Thanks for following our story.

Katja, Tyler and Tobias

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• keep going when you can

• pause when your body says “please”

• celebrate progress, even if it’s messy and slow

And if you’re holding a dream, a recovery, a family responsibility, or a heartbreak…

I hope you don’t give up either.

Because life is the only one we have.

So let’s make the best out of it—one honest, imperfect, beautiful step at a time.