When slowing down isn't a choice
5 lessons learned when my active lifestyle stopped due to early arthritis
There’s finally a backlash against hustle culture, and I am 100% here for it. “Slow living” is a tantalizing alternative which encourages a more mindful and intentional approach to life, with a focus on quality of experiences over quantity. I have long admired and been a proponent of this concept. Over the years I have had spells of technology disconnect, feelings of deep connection with family and friends, quiet walks in nature, rituals, and many other savory snippets of the slow living lifestyle.
Except the truth in my life is that those moments have always been peppered onto a backdrop of only mildly controlled chaos. I was grasping at those peaceful moments from the bustling busyness of my full-time teaching job, side hustles (teaching yoga and bellydance), raising two teenagers, “managing” my house, trying to maintain a social life (including dating!), and myriad adulting responsibilities and general randomness. Often it felt like mayhem (albeit mayhem that I seemed to roll with somehow) and I would fantasize and laugh about what a fabulously weird and wonderful Netflix series it would all make. I even seemed to magnetically attract the madness; perhaps you are also one of those people whose friends are always saying things like, “of course, that would only happen to you.” Those advocates of self-care being more than a bubble bath and a matcha latte were most certainly talking to me.
But then life decided to slow me down whether I liked it or not. Hello early arthritis of my hips, later accompanied by labral tears. Slowly I lost my ability to dance so I stopped teaching and taking classes. My yoga practice also sputtered down to a full stop. My two hour hikes and walks maxed out at about a half hour, on a flat surface. Stairs got more difficult. Getting in and out of the car became tricky.
I questioned who I am if I’m not super active and sprightly, and started diving deeper into other areas of my life for meaning. While I focused more on writing, my work, my purpose, and quality time with loved ones, I still had and have moments of despair about my limitations. I began to develop a deep empathy for anyone whose body does not fully express the vibrant spirit inside.
Finally, I decided to get a full hip replacement and am about a month into my recovery. As my body regains strength and mobility, I am truly forced even further into “slow living.” I move more mindfully than ever (to stay safe!) and set lower expectations for what I can accomplish in a day. I still mentally vacillate between optimism and frustration. I worry if my other hip will go. Here are some thoughts I’ve had and lessons I’ve learned from the experience, that I can now share from an authentic place.
I’ve developed an understanding that small victories matter. Each day I can take more steps without a cane. This morning I had the great relief of sleeping on my side for over an hour, for the first time in almost 5 weeks. While overall I feel slow and achy, I try to keep in mind that I am improving, and not everyone in pain gets to feel better at the rate that I do. Which leads me to…
There are people worse off and, even if this surgery doesn’t fix everything, this too shall pass. Recovery from surgery is not the same as living in chronic pain or having a degenerative illness. I need to keep perspective, honor that everyone suffers, and remember that we’re all doing our best.
No one should suffer alone. I have been blessed with friends and family who have supported me through my surgery and recovery. I will do my best to remember this and be supportive in return if and when the time comes. My heart also cracked open during my longer-than-normal hospital stay as I noticed how many patients had few or no visitors. It was scary for me, and I had people checking on me regularly. I have been asking myself how many people in pain are moving around the world feeling uncared for or invisible, and how can I help? I hope that this experience helped my heart grow in ways that will help others.
I can rest, and just be productive at a slower pace. And I sure did need a rest! I’m still planning a camp, working on my finances and future goals, catching up on inspiring books, and getting projects done around the house. My hip issues have hindered my mobility, but I still work on a fulfilling vision for my life in between short walks, housework, and times of complete nondoing. I wonder how I can build in more intentional rest and not overdo it once I am recovered. This is temporary and I should make the most of it, rather than complain (TOO much).
Life can still be beautiful even when I’m in pain. My body could not tolerate the painkillers at the hospital so I “managed” post surgery pain with Tylenol and ice. Some ways I pulled through were holding onto gratitude for loved ones, listening to music, and getting fresh air and sunshine once I got home. More than ever before, I sought beauty, peace, and joy anywhere I could find it. Not that I didn’t have my moments!
This has truly been a difficult, but transformative experience for me. Thank you for reading, and allowing me to share my story with you. I would love to hear your experiences and lessons learned from life making you slow down. Hopefully I can continue some semblance of slow living, even when I get a spring back in my step. But forgive me if I do some serious, or not so serious frolicking first :).