A Snail's Pace

The other day at lunchtime I went to a meeting of my company's Toastmasters club. Toastmasters is a group for people who want to improve their public speaking and communication skills through 'doing'. For example, there is even an impromptu section of each meeting – where people are chosen from the audience to come up and give two minute speeches on surprise topics (can you imagine?). And the whole thing has a timed itinerary. There is a time keeper and a grammarian and all sorts of other scary things I can't remember.

I do a lot of public speaking for work. I enjoy public speaking and would love to improve. And joining Toastmasters was one of the things I put in the 'after-the-wedding' basket of my to-do list.

But after a packed-full hour of people speaking and clapping I went back to my desk and thought "over my dead body am I going to that every other week." Not as keen anymore, eh?

Other people have told me about feeling bored or at a loose end after planning their wedding. I feel quite the opposite – I am so completely and utterly exhausted that even sometimes meeting up with people seems like a big task.

I just want to be a 'normal' person right now. Go to work, cook some food and exercise (including my physio work of course!). My tap dancing class seems too difficult. And reading my book club books is obviously creating trouble for me (see Tinker Tailor Soldier – Why? for a more in-depth study).

I wonder if part of my malaise is that a wedding is about a lot of people other than you. It's about taking care of them through the organizing of a million little details. Sure, it was about me and the Hub, but it was also about our families and friends and making sure they had a good time (and that we didn't lose any Americans in London). And I'm very good at taking care of other people.

So perhaps this shift in mood for me is part exhaustion but also part of a retreat back to myself. I'm feeling a little spent – like I don't have much to give – which is probably why a lunchtime speech-a-thon is a little too much for me right now. Time to re-group and get my energy back. I'm sure it won't be long before I'm tap dancing again, but for now I'm much more into long solitary walks.

P.S. The blogging stays. I'm much better when I'm writing.

Related Posts:

• Good For The Soul (not totally related, but I don't think I've linked it before)
• Taking It Easy
• Friday Find: Go Easy On Yourself

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Calendar And Control

The other night over Thai food Future Hub looked at me and said, "We're in countdown mode, aren't we?"

Soon he will just be the Hub (gasp!).

We proceeded to spend the rest of the dinner verbally checking things off, sorting out our schedule, trying to figure out when we'd have time to complete the laundry list. We aren't discussing our lives anymore, but one event. It's a little like the weeks before we exchanged (closed) on our flat last year. Every night after work we went through the checklist of what needed to get done. In some ways living like this is unbearable – in other ways it's good, as I feel like we're in it together.

And there's the whole 'controlling the calendar element' to these days, which makes me feel calmer. As I add appointments into Google calendar I feel a sense of control – at least that there will be some sort of order to the weeks ahead. However, it struck me yesterday that this isn't much different from my regular life. Emails come in about planning things, emails go out. And then dates go in the diary. I move a yoga class from a Saturday to a Sunday. And thus my life is planned out, controlled, OK.

Some people are addicted to drugs, others food, others video games. I am addicted to planning. This addiction, like most, I assume, doesn't provide long-term happiness, but sustains me in some way as a quick fix. I get a buzz from seeing my future weeks so full and ordered.

I don't know. Part of me is alright with the planning – I am a social creature, I like to do things and go places, primarily with other people. And if you want to see anyone in London, believe me, you have to book ahead. I recently got an invitation for a 30th birthday party – in June.

But then again, what is it about empty space and the absence of a fixed plan that makes me feel so nervous?

This calendar obsession also dredges up memories of when I couldn't control my body at all due my neck and arm pain. When I was doing well and getting better I would schedule in exercise classes on my Outlook calendar, recurring appointments – a fantasy schedule, if you will. Maybe I thought if I used enough willpower and hope, I would make it to all those classes or pool swimming sessions.

But life isn't like that.

I'm contemplating trying to go back to a short daily meditation (10 minutes tops) as the weeks roll forward closer to the big day. I was planning (again, here we go) to try to go to yoga two times per week as a way to de-stress, but I'm not sure my body likes that idea.

In the spirit of my post on listening to myself, from earlier this week, I have asked my body what it thinks. Right now it's very cool with the rhythm we've got going of yoga, tap, Zumba – three distinct classes a week. It's quite happy, can handle it and isn't going to rebel. But I feel like it's whispering, "Go ahead, just try it lady, see what happens if you push me."

So I'm keeping it as a free option. I've blocked out Thursday nights in the old Google calendar in case I feel like going. For someone as controlling as me, that's a big step. Clearly.

Related Posts:

• Turbulence
• Uncertainty
• Life Is Messy
• Inshallah

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Listen, Don't Tell

Do you trust yourself?

When I first started physiotherapy, I certainly didn't trust my body. And why should I? It had turned on me, corrupting my life with pain and making me realize that things I had always taken for granted weren't a sure thing anymore – for example, being able to use my hands. (For a more complete tale of what happened to me, read The Whole Story.)

When I finally found a physio to help me get my life back I plunged head long into doing everything she said to fix it. And sometimes we talked of the day when I would be better. How often would I have to do my exercises, I asked? Would I have to do physio exercises every day for the rest of my life?

Her answers were murky to me. We would see, she said. Maybe I would need to do them once a week, or once a month. It would be a matter of how I used my body on a day-to-day basis and what else was going on in my life.

I didn't get it. At all. I wanted prescriptive answers. I wanted to be told I would need to do X static abs X times per week.

But I'm finally getting it. Even when I do my exercises now I don't necessarily do the 10 repetitions she prescribed to me at the beginning. These days I can feel when my back is flat enough on the floor and when my shoulders are loose enough. These days I listen to my body – I have finally stopped telling it what to do.

Generally, I think we have stopped listening to our bodies as much. We are like deer in the headlights when it comes to all the 'health' advice we're getting from T.V., magazines, and newspapers. Our lives are so fast paced and we're so stressed out that we need others to tell us how to take care of ourselves.

It's bull puckey (I once had a camp counsellor who used that phrase – I haven't used it in about 20 years).

Yesterday my body was a mess. I felt completely pre-menstrual (even though I wasn't, which was slightly worrying). I was stressed about a million little things that all added up to make me feel terrible. So I slowed down and listened. I wasn't very hungry, so I ate very little. I drank a lot of water. Even though I went to yoga on Sunday I still felt like I needed to move some more – so in addition to my tap class last night, I skipped the bus and walked up the hill home. Even though it was freezing!

I'm feeling much better today. I don't know what was going on yesterday, but it's not important. Listening to ourselves extends far beyond the physical, including some harmless bloating. It's not just about what we want to eat or whether it's a day to put our feet up on the couch or go for a walk. It's about what we want to do with our time, our days and our lives. This past weekend I really didn't want to do any writing. So I just stayed away. I know that's a luxury – many of us get a pay check to do things for a certain set amount each day and each week – but there are so many other choices we make. So until I'm in a situation where I don't have any choices, I will try to take advantage of the ones I do.

Related Posts:

• Four Meals A Day - And Why Not?
• Taking It Easy
• Pain Can Make You Ill

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Keeping Score

I have a very large Excel spreadsheet where I have kept track of all things physio-related, including various exercises done (how many reps), heart rate, anti-inflammatories taken and general comments about my pain – how severe and where. A thrilling read. And it goes back to early 2007.

Recently, I've just stopped filling it out. I kept forgetting – which is surprising – as I have kept it faithfully every day for over three years. Recently I started to use it to keep track of the new exercise I was starting to incorporate into my routine. In fact, I decided to start a new one – focused more on regular exercise and less on the physio-kind. But I've failed miserably to fill that one in as well.

Maybe it's that I've started to internalize what it is I need to be doing without the need for anything external. I don't need to keep track anymore. It's clear to me which exercises I still need to do daily, and those that I need to only use from time-to-time. I rarely need to take ibuprophen (or the stronger anti-inflams) anymore. And I can tell when I'm feeling run-down or over tired – my morning pulse rate probably only confirms what it is I already know.

I've settled into an exercise routine over the past six weeks. I go to tap class on Mondays, Zumba at the gym on Wednesdays and Bikram Yoga on Saturdays. I'm not doing any walking other than the 10 minutes each morning and night to and from the train station. Frankly, I'm not too keen on walking these days – now that I can finally do other things.

Three exercise sessions a week suits me just fine. When I told a friend recentlywhat I was up to these days in terms of exercise, she said: "That doesn't sound like exercise, that sounds like fun!" Exactly. And I feel better. You don't realize how much you like something (even exercise), until it's gone. It's a privilege (and if you don't believe me, read a recent post from Nourishing The Soul on another reason why exercise is a privilege – specifically running in this case).

I don't want to keep score any longer, I just want to do it. It's like when I went away to college. Throughout much of my childhood, I was a fanatical journal writer. But I ditched the habit when I moved away from home for the first time, keen not to observe, but to enjoy, to live a little more. And likewise, I'm ditching the spreadsheet.

There is quite a bit of research out there that shows that people who measure things do more of them, but there's also the theory that to get something done what you really need is excitement. One of Leo Babauta's recent posts along these lines has got me thinking about achieving, without goals, and although I'm not ready to throw away the to-do list, there may be something to not keeping track of everything.

And maybe letting the spreadsheet go is part of the journey to view myself as a 'normal' person. I still find it hard to believe that I'm going to be able to play golf and tennis next summer. And that I don't really need to take anti-inflammatories everyday anymore (you wouldn't believe the amount of drugs I carry with me at all times, just in case). It's as if I'm afraid to accept that I am well and healthy. That I just might jinx it.

But I suppose it's time to relax a little – stop keeping score and start enjoying the game.

Related posts:

• What's Your RPR?
• Tap Dancing And Mind Shifting
• Other People's Backs
• Give Me An Inch

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Give Me An Inch...

I have now gone to Bikram yoga three times in the last three weeks. And although I'm stiff, I'm mostly sore in the right places (aka the muscles that should be working). My back is holding up fine, my shoulders and neck are doing well, so what's there not to be happy about?

This is where I may need to revisit some ideas about gratitude.

I found myself sitting in the yoga class last week plotting about how I could possibly fit in two yoga classes a week. Hold on a second there, missy. Was it not so long ago that all you wanted was to just be able to go once a week?

The main thing that has really sunk in for me during my years in physiotherapy is that my body is not a machine. I need to treat it well in order for it to actually work properly. And that means moderation of every sort.

With the wedding coming up it is so easy to get sucked into the idea that if only I could do my yoga class twice a week it would be an insurance policy that I look fabulous in my white dress. After all, there will be relatives coming from all parts of the world who haven't seen me in a while and we will be paying someone a good chunk of change to take lots of pictures that we will of course need to display in coffee table books, on the walls, and in Hello magazine (joke).

But I keep reminding myself that I am exercising now not because of some pre-wedding madness, but as part of a long-term struggle to get my body back in working order – and because I want to exercise. I have my body back these days (mostly) and I can finally do the exercise I like to deal with the stress of everyday life and to take care of all those amazing systems we learned about in ninth-grade biology. And I generally feel better about myself and my body when I am exercising, regardless of how I look to the outside world.

Also there's the enjoyment factor. Enjoyment? Gasp.

I don't know if it's being American, with our long history of embracing the puritanical work ethic or if it's just our society's current obsession with perfection as the new 'good'. A New York therapist once told me that her clients were no longer worried about morality or being perceived as 'good' by others. Instead, achieving 'perfection' was the new gold standard.

But what about enjoying life and being in the moment? This is where gratitude comes back in. I wrote a few weeks ago about my take on gratitude, as part of the Self-Discovery, Word by Word series (click here to read about November's word and participate). But gratitude is not just for one blog post.

It's easy to forget how not so long ago I was often shedding tears, feeling sorry for myself about how my body was not working properly and pain that would follow me around everywhere. I am genuinely thankful for being able to go to yoga again, to take my weekly tap dancing class. It's easy to forget about balance.

But I'm not the person I used to be – I am much more sane about what I can handle these days. It's just that every once in a while I get carried away. And who doesn't?

P.S. You can actually mail your wedding photos into Hello magazine. If you've done it, I want to hear about it.

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Tap Dancing And Mind Shifting

Last night, I went back to my tap dancing class. You've never seen someone so happy to be tap dancing.

If you've been following the saga of my back injury, last we spoke I was on the road to recovery but needed to do some serious hip stretching while we were on our holiday in San Francisco. (If you want the background story, click on the label 'back pain' and you'll find the entries concerning it.)

I visited my physio last week extremely jet lagged, generally cranky and stiff from the 9-hour flight, but still, triumphantly, she said things looked good (gold star for me!). My hips are nearly stretched out and my tummy is stronger (from all the crunches) and now we just need to do a few more bum-toning exercises (who would reject that?).

But at the same time, I'm allowed – in fact, instructed – to get back into doing regular exercise to keep building up the right muscles. Of course, everything needs to be done in a controlled manner, and I need to do the physio exercises and stretches to make sure everything that is supposed to stays loose (like my lower back and hips) and everything that's supposed to stay strong, does (like my tummy and bum). But still, it's good.

Because I'm used to being disciplined in doing the exercises, I've been able to recover from my back injury quite quickly. Also, and this is important: I didn't need the same level of patience that recovering from a long, chronic injury requires. So if you've had back problems for a very long period of time, you have to remember this – if the problem has been stewing for a while, it's going to take a while to fix. But it's still worth doing as soon as possible, because procrastinating and leaving it for longer isn't going to help.

It's funny, because this back injury was located so quickly, and was acute instead of chronic, I'm able to see the recovery process in a totally different way than my very long saga with my neck/shoulders.

I used to view my physio exercises as something isolated from the rest of my life. And in a way, that was necessary for quite some time with my neck and shoulders. Everything was in pain and I had to stop all my other activity and focus on slowly coaxing my muscles out of their imbalanced state.

But I thought there was going to be a day where I just stopped doing the physio exercises and resumed regular life. Like there was going to be a switch that got flipped.

There will be a day where I don't need to do them every day; in fact, I was at that point with my neck and shoulders right before I hurt my back. But, I'm starting to view the physio work more as a tool than just an isolated process. For example, last night before I went to my tap class I could feel that my back was pretty stiff from sitting at my desk all day. So I went to the gym on the way to my class and stretched out my back using my stomach work, so I could go do some dancing. I think in the past I would have thought I had to do one or the other – and would have also in a way resented doing the floor work – but I'm finally understanding that the physio work needs to be viewed as a means to an end.

Don't get me wrong here, once you've done the main work, and your muscles are in the right balance, and you have the proper posture to remain pain free, there's not much that can swing things back the other way (a strong muscle stays strong, because it keeps working).

But the exercises are now more of a top up – a way of keeping everything running smoothly, like oil in your car engine. There will definitely be times where I don't really need to do them. And there will be other times when I'm stressed or have been working long hours or have added in some really new exercise that has stiffened things up and I will find them helpful.

I think in the past I've been so angry about what happened to me that I wanted the physio work to be something that eventually I could just cast off. But now I realize it's actually an incredible gift that I've got this tool. I've learned so much about the way my body is supposed to work that I can hopefully keep active well into my old age (if I make it there, let's not assume anything). I won't need a hip replacement or a knee replacement and I'll be able to walk and sit up tall.

I think I'm actually starting to feel lucky, instead of incredibly unlucky. Years ago when I thought I might never be able to type again, if you had told me I'd feel this way eventually, I just wouldn't have believed you.

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Exercise And Perfectionism Don't Mix

I definitely feel better when I'm exercising. But there's no greater mood killer than feeling like you have to exercise. I've seen a lot of articles written about finding exercise that you like to do, and I think there's no better advice.

But the other thing I've struggled with on the exercise front is being a perfectionist about having an exercise routine. Perhaps because you hear so much about the importance of getting into a routine to form habits. However, there can be a step too far.

After I got better enough from my RSI/postural problems to start regular exercise again, I got a little crazy (this happens to me often). I probably could have been mistaken for a general planning a war exercise with the way I made up spreadsheets, tables and maps for all this exercise I was planning to do.

One of the specific things I wrestled with was my determination to keep a weekly swim in my routine. My gym is right next door to my office, I like swimming, it's really good exercise, and if I didn't do it every week, what was the point of doing it at all? Ah, the all-or-nothing trap. It's a fail safe way for any perfectionist to get paralyzed.

But finally, I wised up. I also admitted to myself I need some routine. I have my Monday tap dancing class. I go to yoga on either Saturday or Sunday – at whatever time works that week. I also attempt to fit in one other dance or aerobics class during the week (right now I'm a big Zumba fan). I really love dancing and I like yoga – or at least the mind and body benefits I get from it. But the thing I do that keeps me the sanest is walking. Although some people think isn't 'real' exercise, I have a lot of time for walking (it probably merits its own post). When I have a pain flare up it saves me as I know it's something I can always do. Also, if I'm too busy for other exercise I know I can still fit in about 25-30 minutes of walking a day – usually on the way to work or home. And that's enough exercise to get the necessary health benefits.

And swimming? Now I reserve that for when I feel like it. Sometimes there's nothing better than going to the pool after work, swimming for as little as 20 minutes and then stretching out in the sauna. In the winter when it starts getting dark at 3 p.m. in London, my gym turns on colored lighting in the pool area and pipes in music that I can only describe as 'light techno'. It's weird, but strangely calming.

I also try to avoid this idea that you have to do a certain kind of exercise a certain number of times per week. At Bikram Yoga the teachers always say that you should go a minimum of twice per week. Why? In the past, someone saying that would have made me fall in line like a little lemming. Now I know that my body can only handle Bikram once a week. But it's still helpful to me, and I can even see changes in my body from it. I try to ignore all the noise from people who don't know me very well. Please remember, it's your life – and you're the expert.

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Practice What You Preach

Last week I wrote a post about the importance of taking proper care of ourselves (Your Body Is Not A Machine). But I didn't follow my own advice and later paid the price.

It's been a busy few weeks recently. I haven't exactly been sticking to my rules about not going out more than a few times per week. We've been looking at wedding venues and my Mom was also in London for a long weekend.

In the midst of all this, I went in to see Super Physio for my regular bi-monthly review. I'm now at the point in my treatment where we're just fine tuning – building up a little extra strength here and there and doing some preventative work. To make a long story short, none of the work is related to the chronic pain anymore as that's now mostly gone.

Except that she did find something worrying this time. When we moved house two months ago I hurt my back pretty badly. My postural problems have been mostly limited to my neck/shoulder area, but when we moved, I spent hours and hours on my feet, packing and cleaning both the old and new flats. The Monday morning after the move weekend, my back was so stiff that I was having trouble walking without intense pain.

Fortunately I knew what exercises to do for it and I got the pain to subside. However, what I didn't realize at the time was how badly I actually had hurt it. Because I have a very bendy body, the majority of my back was still working pretty well and I just carried on without realizing it.

When I went in to see SP we stretched those pesky muscles right out and she told me to take it easy for a while. I was good about doing the back exercises, but I didn't exactly take it easy. Instead it coincided with working on a very research-heavy project at work that required a lot of computer time, my Mom's visit, wedding venue viewings, some drinks with friends, a talk given by a Hegelian and Marxist philosopher (different, but interesting), a tap dancing rehearsal and recital (yes, I am admitting to being a novice tap dancer), a friend's 40th birthday and a Fourth of July barbeque. There wasn't a night in two weeks when I just came home straight from work and relaxed on the sofa.

So this past Saturday morning I woke up and my muscles were screaming at me. My neck had joined in the yelling match too. We were supposed to go to a birthday party in the afternoon. I sent Future Hub on without me and glumly stayed at home.

I felt like a caged animal. I was miserable with pain and couldn't face going anywhere but at the same time cursing the fact that I had to stay home. I kept thinking I don't have time for this. I wanted to work on this blog, I had things around the house to get done. I wanted to go to yoga. But I was firm; it was time to cut myself off. I split my time between doing small sets of my physio exercises on the floor and then lying on the couch with heat either on my neck or lower back.

Eventually I made myself feel better by watching the last four episodes of Grey's Anatomy Series 5, which I hadn't yet seen – as luck would have it. With the requisite tear-inducing story lines it also helped me release some of those stress hormones (see yesterday's post). And it was a fabulous thing how much better I felt on Sunday. Well enough to do some writing and get on with my life.

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