“For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.” – Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NLT)
When ‘It’s Probably Nothing’ Costs More Than You Think
Jump-Start January was supposed to be about accountability, and it still is. But the accountability looks a little different from what I thought. I was going to report on my progress from Determined December—how consistently I’d been walking the trail, tracking my macros, and strength training. I planned to share what was working, what wasn’t, and where I was headed.
Instead? I ended up at Patient First in early January with chest pain. Then right after I recovered from that, I spent a week and a half knocked out by a flu-like cold. And as I’m writing this, I’m still dealing with some congestion and not feeling 100%.
The irony of calling this “Jump-Start January” isn’t lost on me.
But perhaps, that’s exactly the point. Maybe the “jump-start” wasn’t about me pushing harder or doing more. Maybe it was about jump-starting something I’ve been avoiding for too long: actually listening to my body instead of forcing it to comply.
The Three Days I Waited
I had right-sided chest pain for three days before I went to Patient First.
Three. Days.
Day one, I told myself: “It’s probably nothing. Let’s see if it goes away.”
Day two: “Still here, but do I really need to go to the doctor?”
Day three: “Okay, it’s just not smart to think this will just go away anymore.”
But here’s the truth beneath “it’s probably nothing”: I was also calculating the cost. I’m unemployed, have no steady income, and am wondering: What if it IS nothing and I just spent money I don’t have on an urgent care visit?
When you’re broke, and your body is telling you something’s wrong, every health decision becomes impossible math. Do I address this pain now and risk the bill? Or do I wait and hope it goes away?
My Dad often used to say, “Pay me now, or pay me later. Either way, you’re gonna pay.”
I tried to avoid paying. I waited three days, hoping the pain would disappear and I wouldn’t have to face the urgent care bill.
But I paid anyway. Patient First visit. EKG. Chest X-ray. A new-onset GI issue caused by stress. And the overall stress of worrying about it all.
My Dad was right. You can delay the payment, but you can’t avoid it. And usually, paying later costs more—in money, in pain, and in consequences.
The Cold That Knocked Me Out
A week after the Patient First visit, I got sick. Flu-like symptoms—first, malaise, body aches, and inflammation. Then, congestion that was so bad I could hardly breathe for several days. I call it a super-cold!
I was in bed for days. And even now, as I write this, I’m still dealing with lingering congestion.
My body was done playing games. It tried to get my attention with chest pain. I ignored it for three days. So it made me stop in a way I couldn’t ignore: by making me too sick to push through. Your nervous system needs rest, not pressure. And when you won’t give it rest voluntarily, sometimes your body takes it by force. Again,” pay me now, or pay me later.”
It’s Difficult to Honor the Season You’re In
Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NLT) says, “For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.”
But here’s what I’m learning: When it’s difficult to honor the season you’re in, it often means we’re still grieving the past season. Sometimes, it’s hard to let go.
I’m trying to honor winter—literal hibernation season, and the late autumn/early winter season of my life at 55. But I’m also grieving summer. Grieving the younger version of me who could set big goals in January, push hard, and see results by spring. I’m still grieving the body that responded to effort and the energy I used to have.
And I’m grieving my Dad, who’s been gone for 18 months but whose wisdom keeps showing up exactly when I need it. (What a beautiful gift!) I’ve been missing my grandmother terribly, too—she’s declining in the nursing home, and while I want to be with her every day, I’m realizing that daily visits aren’t sustainable for me either.
I’m understanding more and more that I can’t fully honor the season I’m in while I’m still mourning the one I left behind. This has been a really hard lesson for me to learn.
And that’s the work. That’s the tension. That’s why “just rest” isn’t as simple as it sounds.
Redefining ‘New Year, New You’ for This Season
There was a time when “New Year, New You” worked for me. I could set big goals in January, push hard, and see results. I could ignore my body’s signals and power through.
But that was the summer season of my life. And I’m not in summer anymore. I love summer—literally and metaphorically.
I’m in winter—literally and metaphorically. And winter doesn’t respond to “push harder.” Winter asks for introspection and rest. Winter asks for hibernation. Winter asks me to slow down and conserve energy.
At 35, my body could handle “New Year, New You.” At 55, post-menopausal, insulin resistant, carrying grief and financial stress, and a nervous system that’s maxed out? My body is asking for something different.
Winter is the hibernation season. God has a great purpose for this season, not only in nature, but in my life. I need to stop fighting that.
The Guilt I’ve Been Carrying
I’ve been guilting myself for not working out. For only walking once in two weeks. For not “doing enough.”
There was a 57-degree day in January—perfect walking weather, and that was the day I went to Patient First instead.
Guilt is a stressor, too.
For too long, my default has been: ignore the signals, push through, deal with it later. And that default landed me in urgent care with chest pain, an unusually high BP, and a GI issue caused by stress.
I can’t keep operating like my pain doesn’t matter. I can’t keep waiting until my body forces me into urgent care before I listen.
My new default has to be: When my body speaks, I listen. Immediately. Not three days later. I already know this is not going to be easy for me. But I also know that I don’t have to be in it alone. The Lord is always right there for me to lean on (Psalm 46:1 NLT).
What “Jump-Start” Actually Means Now
Jump-Start January didn’t mean what I thought it would.
It didn’t mean:
- Push harder
- Do more workouts
- Force myself to walk in the cold
- Amp up intensity
It meant:
- Jump-start listening to my body
- Jump-start honoring winter (literal and metaphorical)
- Jump-start releasing guilt
- Jump-start nervous system healing
- Jump-start a new default: listen first, push through only occasionally—not constantly.
Not by forcing. But by going through. By honoring.
My Dad also used to say, “And this, too, shall pass.”
I’m learning what that actually means. It doesn’t mean “push through until it’s over.” It means go through it. Feel it. Honor it. Let it pass in its own time.
This season of grief will pass. This winter will pass. This stress will pass.
But only if I let myself move through it the way my body needs me to.
Reflection Questions
Take a moment to journal on these:
- What season are you in right now—literally and metaphorically? Are you honoring it, or are you still trying to live in a past season?
- What is your body trying to tell you that you’ve been ignoring? What would it look like to listen immediately instead of waiting?
- Where have you been guilting yourself for “not doing enough”? How is that guilt adding to your stress?
- What does “pay me now or pay me later” mean for your current situation? Where might paying now (with rest, boundaries, and honoring your limits) save you from paying more later?
- If you could give yourself permission to honor winter—to rest, to slow down, to hibernate—what would that look like?
What’s Coming
January 2026 was on for the books! This definitely isn’t the January I planned. I didn’t track my macros or work out consistently. I didn’t walk the nature trail as much as I wanted.
But—I’m learning to listen. I’m learning that my body’s signals matter. I’m learning that “pay me now or pay me later” applies to rest, too—I can rest now voluntarily, or my body will force me to rest later.
Maybe March will be the time to push a little more—but only if my body says so.
For now, I’m working on honoring winter and releasing the guilt. I’m accepting that this season looks different from what I expected.
And I’m trusting that God, who orders my steps, knows what I need better than I do.
Life is a faith journey. Walk boldly—but walk prayerfully, and sometimes, walk gently.
See you in February for Faithful February—where I’ll continue this journey of honoring the season I’m in, even though it’s hard.
💜
Tami Zanele
