30 Months Later: Finding Peace in the Process

It’s been 30 months since the accident, and for the first time, I can say I’m nearly at peace.

My life today is filled with what the medical world labels as “therapy”—but to me, it’s just life now. A continuous cycle of maintenance, adjustments, and constant monitoring of my mental health, my focus, my accuracy. It’s a far cry from the life I led before. So much has changed—and yet, oddly, it feels familiar.

In many ways, it feels like I’m back in my 20s, back in the military. Every moment is scheduled. Everything is tracked, measured, trained for. Every task is a go/no-go decision. It’s regimented, but not oppressive. Structured, but not confining.

And here’s the beautiful twist—I’m also enjoying life again. I’m learning, finally, that all things really do come in time. That moderation matters. That peace doesn’t arrive in a flash but grows slowly, with patience.

And patience… turns out to be the greatest therapy of all.