My teacher Martha Beck stresses the importance of listening to the wisdom in our bodies. Our bodies are talking to us all the time, and I’ve heard that the body is primarily how our souls communicate to us. Of course, it’s a more subtle conversation than the constant chatter of our minds. Over the past couple years, I’ve gotten a lot better at listening, but I have to admit, I recently missed a big one. Guess what? If you don’t pay attention, the body gets louder to get your attention.
About nine months ago, I started having pain in my right hip. It was annoying and making it more difficult to run, but I pushed on, convinced it was due to muscle weakness and the scoliosis I’ve had since my teens. I began doing strengthening exercises and continued to run. It didn’t get better. Swimming seemed easier but wasn’t always accessible. I tried ice, heat, deep tissue massage, acupuncture – all with limited success. Running was soon out of the picture, but I kept walking and joined a yoga studio, thinking the stretching and strengthening would help. The pain continued. One day my favorite yoga teacher told us all at the beginning of class to consider this yoga practice as a conversation with our bodies and reminded us that conversations include listening. A light bulb moment for me, as I realized I had been pushing my body to do the advanced poses, trying to prove to myself, the teacher and my classmates that I was good enough to be there. I began to listen a little more.
I finally asked my doctor about it, got a referral to an orthopedic surgeon, and discovered I have a tear in the cartilage in my hip (due in part to scoliosis, the way I’m made, and in part due to repetitive motion). All the exercises I’ve been doing have probably made it worse, which is why the pain is increasing. I’m now at the point where I can barely walk, and I have humbly had to utilize a wheelchair in the airport and rented a motorized scooter for a recent convention. I’m planning on getting surgery soon, but in the meantime, I’m using this as a lesson. And I’m finding that the insights I’m having from this apply to the rest of my life as well:
- I need to listen more. Yeah, this is pretty obvious. I am working on listening and not judging – if my body says “I’m not walking,” I need to honor that. This applies to the rest of my life, too, because I often forget to listen first and jump into talking and sharing my POV right away.
- Go slowly. To be able to walk at all right now, I need to go VERY slowly. If I don’t, my hip either completely gives out or the pain intensifies even more. In our society, the pace of life has gotten so fast, and this injury has forced me to slow down. It makes me more conscious of what is going on around me.
- Focus on one thing at a time. Be mindful. I am used to doing many things almost at once, but again, my hip is forcing me to concentrate. If I try to pivot or spin around while walking (like in the kitchen), I get a sharp pain or the hip gives out. While multitasking has become the norm, researchers have proven that we really can only do one thing at a time. In my current state, I must be mindful of what I am doing and how I am doing it. It’s a good exercise in focusing, and I can use more of that in everything I do.
- Rest and recover. A lot. I like to do a lot of different things, and there is so much I want to do. I push myself to do more, such as trying to squeeze in an errand on the way to an appointment, or carrying what my dad would call “a lazy man’s load,” piling many things into my hands and arms to transport from one place in the house to another, which nearly always results in something being dropped. Now, I’m finding that I need a LOT of rest, including time for just putting my feet up and time for sleep. And I’ve had to battle with my inner taskmaster who thinks this is lazy and at odds with being an entrepreneur.
- Be willing to ask for help. This one is tough for me, but again, the state my hip is in now has made it a necessity. I have had to ask a lot of people for help, particularly my partner. I have realized how much of my self-esteem is wrapped up in what I do, and this has made me question that. Who am I if I can’t do everything I’m used to? What do I have to offer if I’m not able to do that?
Pain is a persistent teacher. It tells you when to stop and when to ask for help. Of course, you have to listen. May you listen to the whispers of your own body as it shares its wisdom with you.