When I woke up in the hospital, I was in despair. Despair not only over the loss of my legs, but over the crushing weight of what I was going to do next. I had so many responsibilities, so many bills, so many unfinished things waiting for me outside those hospital walls. And in that moment, none of them felt manageable. I couldn’t even figure out how I was going to brush my teeth or take a shower, let alone keep my entire life from falling apart.

I was talking to Grandma about all of this one day while she was visiting me. Thank goodness for Grandmas everywhere. She listened without trying to fix it, without giving me some Pinterest-worthy advice about staying strong. She just sat there and let me say it all. And the next time she came back, she brought me something unexpected—a planner.

Now, Grandma got hers from Barnes and Noble, and if you’ve ever shopped there, you know they have those little price tags you have to remember to peel off. She forgot. And I saw the price. $80. Eighty. Dollars. For a book.

I was furious. Not at her, exactly. But in that moment, it felt like she had spent eighty dollars on something pretty and useless, when I was trying to figure out how to make rent, or how to keep my phone on. And I won’t lie—I also thought it was kind of a “girl” thing. A planner. With stickers. I was supposed to start scrapbooking my way out of despair?

But I had time. Nothing but time, really. And guilt. Because she had spent that money, and I couldn’t look her in the eye and say I hadn’t even cracked it open.

So I opened it.

And man... it was like someone had dumped a bucket of water over the chaos in my head.

It didn’t fix everything, obviously. But what it did was give me a place for everything. A page for every spinning thought. A spot to list what actually needed to be handled today—and what didn’t. It helped me stop treating everything like an emergency and start understanding what could wait.

This planner didn’t just have space for schedules and appointments. It had journal prompts that helped me get honest with myself. It made me ask: What am I doing that’s draining me? What do I actually want my life to look like? What matters, and what’s noise? And that’s when it hit me—maybe I still had some choices left.

I started writing more. Planning more. Slowly, painfully, I started pulling myself out of that pit.

And somewhere in those pages, I got the idea for this website.

Because if I didn’t even know where to start with my own life—how many other people must feel just as lost? How many others are overwhelmed, grieving something (even if it’s not their legs), and just trying to find a way through it all?

This site was born from that planner. From Grandma’s $80 gift. From those quiet hours in the hospital when I didn’t think I’d ever have a real life again.

So if you’re here, and life is kicking your ass, and everything feels too big and too much—maybe this one thing can help. Maybe this can be your "one damn thing that finally makes sense."

You can grab the planner on Amazon now for way less than Grandma paid.

And if you do, I hope you write in it like your life depends on it. Because sometimes... it does.