Listen to your body. These are words I have heard many times over the last few years. No-one knows your body like you do. Your body tells you when it’s had enough. And it’s true. I’m only human and my body has limits. Especially, when my health is not as strong as it has been.
But what about when I need to test those limits?
In recovery, there is a very fine balance between pushing your body enough to strengthen and heal it, and pushing it too far resulting in doing more damage. I feel like I have been walking along the thinnest tight rope, trying to do what’s best for my body, for a while. There are times where I progress smoothly, bounding along the rope, and my body feels so much better just to misstep. My balance slips and I slide over the edge of the rope, arms flailing, seeking the calm stability I had, and all the progress I made before feels like its wasting away.
I live in constant fear of slipping.
I fear that any movement or activity I do could be the trigger for my next injury, or that it will worsen the ones I already have. It can be exhausting living in fear of life. Activities that would usually be enjoyable and no concern to me such as walking down to the bus stop and hopping on a bus to work, become a monumental challenge that is not just an obstacle for my physical health to overcome, but my mental health too. Our minds are so powerful and have the ability to spin entirely out of our control at times.
My mind certainly likes to. It likes to conjure images of maybes and what ifs that leave me reeling in panic. The most preferred time for it to strike is in the dead of night, when all is quiet and there is very little to distract me from the whir of anxiety inducing mental chatter.
This leaves me wanting to just stay still, unmoving, until my body repairs and it’s safe enough to move. But not doing anything can be just as detrimental to recovery as overdoing it. Allowing my muscles to weaken and my body to get used to less movement, makes it a lot harder in the long run to get back to a stronger place. Sometimes I feel like I’m at odds with my own body. What’s the expression people like to say? Mind over body. Well, my mind is at war with my body.
My physio, a wonderful woman who is very knowledgeable and incredibly understanding, has told me in the past the best approach for me is ‘little but often’. And while everyone is different and requires different recovery routines, I like this mantra for myself.
I’m in the midst of doing physio on my leg to help get me back to the extent of walking that gives me freedom from the four walls of my house and boy have their been some challenging moments.
There are times where certain movements or exercises scare me and my whole body freezes, physically stopping myself from moving out of fear of what potential harm the action could do. No matter how much I tell myself to just do it, it will help. I find myself moving on to another exercise instead. I never realised until recently how part of my recovery story is also a struggle with overcoming my mental strain.
Now this isn’t saying that my mind isn’t always justified. I was told by one doctor that it was imperative I don’t stop going up and down stairs during recovery. This doctor insisted that I go up at down at least two to three times a day. When I told this to my physio, the shock on her face was obvious. She told me by no means was I to use stairs where avoidable until this injury calms down. Luckily for myself, I had already been feeling discomfort when trying to use the stairs and I’d decided to postpone stair therapy until discussing the matter further with my physio. That is a clear example of my mind being correct in its concern.
The difficulty is sifting through that onslaught of anxious chatter to work out what is justified concern and what is not.
I think it is only natural for health anxiety to take root when you have been struggling with your physical health for so long. I just don’t want it to hinder my recovery to the point where I lose confidence in my own body.
Every time this fear begins to take hold recently, I have found myself repeating my physio’s words, Little But Often.
It’s okay to feel scared. I have every right to feel that way. But as long as I keep pushing back against the fear and continue to traverse the journey of recovery with a positive and constructive mindset, then I am doing my best and what’s right for me. I cannot know my limits unless I go out and safely try. Like Rome, the exercises that scare me are not going to be overcome in day, but small steps can help to make them feel like less of a goliath. Gently building up the number I do of those movements rather than diving head first into the pool, can bridge the gap between anxiety and confidence. Little challenges often bring more rewards. It takes time and patience, but if I don’t listen to my body, nobody else will.
From just A Simple Writer.
