Three months ago, I broke my femur. It brought me to a pretty dark place. But now, it’s made me a better person and a better designer.

Situation

First, let me set the scene. I spend a lot of time commuting by train and on foot. Like many do, I tied my sense of self-worth to how busy I kept. Between work meetings and classes to finish my degree, I was always on the go. On my “best days”, I had hardly any time for a lunch break.

All was well (or so I thought) until one December day. Making my way to a meeting in the concrete jungle, I started to feel dizzy. The next thing I remember, I woke up in an ambulance. Hours of agony later, I got my diagnosis: a minor concussion, and a broken leg. Not just any broken leg: the top of my leg, going into my hip, was in two different places. Oops.

For the first week, I was still convinced I would be right back to work on Monday. This was a trauma response. It didn’t occur to me that such an injury was more than a mobility impairment.

The next week, the reality hit me: I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t work. My only agency was the choice between pain, and the haze of pain medication. I remember very little. But in fairness, there was very little to remember. This stage was an entire month.

Task

I was down for the count. Every obligation: work, social, and personal, I canceled. My new mental stamina for any task was now zero.

How would I rebuild myself from nothing? How would I mitigate the impact on my teammates? How would I become the person I want to be when I lost everything I worked for?

Action

Ask for help.

As much as I hated it, I recognized early on my limitations were non-negotiable. Blaming myself would waste what little energy I had for no return. So, I looked to the elements in play. Remember that first-week trauma response? It was silly, but not useless. It gave me some lucidity, which by sheer luck I used to let my team know.

Sending that email was one of the hardest, but most important things I’ve done. Emotional struggle aside, I couldn’t focus through the pain to finish a sentence.

But this would be hard on a good day. I had to admit I couldn’t do something. I had to tell my team a hard truth. I had to give others more work to do in my stead. Every designer has been there at some point. I had to do it all without any time to think it over.

This pain was far worse than my leg ever was. And to be honest, I couldn’t even look at replies for a week. I updated, apologized, and trusted like my life depended on it.

Contain the impact.

Next, I had to process. I had to give myself permission and forgiveness to spend days doing nothing. Sometimes, that meant watching shows and sleeping. Sometimes, that meant struggling to even do that. Touching work or personal projects was never productive, and I did try. The guilt from trying only haunted me afterward.

Avoid “contaminating” creative projects with hesitation and self-doubt. Your brain remembers. Build productive rituals that make you feel confident, joyful, and empowered. If you’ve ever had to give up on a hobby, you get it. Try it again in a new and different context, and you can learn to love it again!

Start small.

I’ve always been frail. My recovery was slow. To avoid hopelessness setting in, I kept it small. I used what I knew about gamification.

First, it was standing up. Next, it was hobbling to the bathroom. Then, it was getting a snack. And each of these had levels: first with family helping me. Next, with a walker. Then, without the walker. I made sure they stocked the best little treats all around. Even if I only made it halfway, I finished a quest and got a reward. Walking became a game space of fear. I had to make it a space full of victories.

It took all my stamina, but the next time, my stamina increased by one point. I made myself an experience system. My recovery picked up again.

This may seem like it’s just about injuries. It’s not. Any project or skill you’ve fallen away from or want to start could benefit from this. Break up your assignment and reward system into tiny parts. Trust me.

Find what matters.

As I built up my stamina, I’d have a few minutes, then hours, of lucid time again. Imagine you were stuck on an empty island or in outer space. Then, you came back to civilization again. How would you spend your first day? Your first week? That’s how I thought: I was finally “back”.

First, I reached out to people in my life. I spent more time talking with my girlfriend, my family, my friends, and my teammates. I would not be here without their love and support. I live in gratitude.

Next, I got reacquainted with social media as a creator. I struggled to post or comment, but I read every message of support. It meant more than you know. Thank you. I saw what other people were up to when I was gone. The TTRPG community is extraordinary.

Finally, I looked at my personal projects. I noticed something big.

Ditch what doesn’t.

When is the last time you’ve taken an audit of your creative life? You’ll be surprised at how much we end up doing for the sake of it. I had an archive of TTRPG projects: campaigns, one-pagers, three SRDs, and a whole book that only needed art. All in various stages of development. And I hated most of it.

I realized most of what I did for social media was content for its own sake. It would have been successful, but it wasn’t purposeful. I backed out of affiliate sponsorships. I shelved finished videos. I scrapped full PDF releases I had planned to share before Christmas.

I had a honed intuitive sense for what would “succeed” or not by engagement standards. But even my biggest successes I couldn’t describe with words. I realized that was causing a bad feeling in my user researcher bones for several months at that point. A “win” for content wasn’t a rightful “win” as a designer. I had no purpose.

So, I wiped the slate clean. I read up on marketing, branding, and design: new works and old favorites. I’ve been finding out who I want to be, and making that someone I love.

Results

I learned to be grateful for the people in my life. My girlfriend is amazing. My friends are lovely. Every kindness and achievement in life is an active effort we can’t take for granted.

I am now back to work. My team has overcome new exciting challenges. I found out I laid good groundwork to let them keep up best practices in my absence. Always make strong team contracts! My absence let some prove themselves as leaders. I couldn’t be more proud.

I rebuilt my professional strategy. I’m finding out what I want to do.

For a while, each month will look different. This month, I’m blogging on my new self-hosted website! I hope in six months or a year, I’ll have tried everything I can think of. I’m changing how I work to make content creation easier. I want to contribute with my GRUX viewpoint the space lacks. And sometimes I want to make and share silly projects like everyone else gets to do.

Finally, I learned to love myself. This includes personal kindnesses: I hydrate more, I rest more, and I give myself more free time. I’ve since learned the cause of my collapse was very low blood pressure in very high stress. I can’t overload myself like I used to. I try to check in with myself like I would a loved one. After all, why shouldn’t we care about ourselves, too?

Conclusion

At the time of writing, I’m still getting around with a cane. I won’t need it forever. I don’t need it now. But I like the support it offers. And I like the lesson it gave me.

I hope my reflections are enjoyable or helpful to you. I hope you don’t need a horrible accident to use them. And I wish I didn’t, either.

Love yourself, and the people who love you, more than you already do. Without love for people, you can’t love what you do. Live life like this is your only chance to be good and do good. Spread kindness out, and kindness in.

Now, I need an ibuprofen.