Pain and Movement - How we Talk with our Bodies
Over the years, as I’ve taught movement to a wide variety of people, I have overheard many of the same things repeated. My knees can’t take a long hike anymore. My hip won’t do that. My wrists can’t take that. And so, we simply stop doing those things and blame our bodies for failing us. But what if, by stopping, we are failing our bodies?
Imagine being held accountable for a photograph of yourself.
Person with a photograph: This is you!?
You: Yes, that was me.
Person: No, this IS you.
You: Yes, but I’ve changed…
Can we allow pieces of our stories without making them our definition? Now, imagine this same scenario happening all the time, only this time it is you doing it to yourself in your expectation of and reactions to your body. For how many snapshots of your story are you still holding your body accountable?
You with an x-ray: That’s me?
Body: Yes, that was me.
You: No, this me now.
Body: Yes, but I’ve changed…
We can own the photograph as a piece of our past without losing sight of the journey we’ve traveled forward from that moment when we look at it. So, why is it so very difficult to do the same with our bodies? Pain can be a snapshot of memory that brings the x-ray of an injury to the forefront. Hurt doesn’t equal harm, so the sensation of pain doesn’t always mean the injury is present. Your body is also an ever-evolving open system that is constantly adapting to new input.
Discomfort tells us more about what is going on throughout our systems than comfort. Comfortable can be ignored. So when your body really wants to bring your attention to something and make you explore it more fully, what sensations would you expect?
As with any communication, if ignored, first it likely gets louder, and eventually it stops. This could be your body adapting, compensating, or repairing. How do you know which? When should you pay attention, and when can you ignore it?
What if you were able to partner with pain? No longer being done to, and instead negotiating from a position of same-as. Removing the internalization of conflict and gaining some distance for error. As in any partnership, the more you communicate and the more open the lines of information, the more you’ll know.
If we can shift to partnering with our bodies, it becomes much more exploratory. Instead of going to outside experts, go inside and follow the trajectory of sensation.
This repositioning changed everything for me. I had already been working with participants who arrived for movement and described to me all the ways in which their bodies had betrayed them and their struggle to force movement out of broken bits of themselves. They had taken on injuries like badges that proved their worst thoughts of themselves. I would say things like, “A knee cannot be good or bad all on its own. Discomfort is your body communicating, and you are telling it to Shut Up because it is being bad. You have described it as though it isn’t innate to you. Partner up with your body in this exploration. It is going to heal, and it is exceptional at doing so given very little input and some time. Let’s discuss what feels good and move forward from there.”
As we progressed through movements and pain showed up, we’d explore (Better? Worse? The same?) or move on as needed without judgment or labels. By the end of an hour, there’s usually a new respect for how many options are available besides stopping and how well our bodies respond to even small adjustments.
There’s room for error in our lives and with our bodies. We do not have to own every piece of the story and keep it present. Start over. Build a new story with you as you are now. Learn through movement, explore discomfort and respect pain, and build a partnership with your body in which you both evolve.
