I really like how my new physical therapist doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile. She recently suggested several exercises that I added to my daily routine. The first one is in front of the bathroom mirror, right after rolling out of bed before dawn. Lacing my fingers together behind my back and squeezing my shoulder blades together to pull my shoulders down, I count to five. I’m supposed to do ten sets but I often get mixed up counting so I just do it a few times until I feel sufficiently tall.
This reminds me how happy I feel when Nina remembers to address me as her tall sister in texts when we say good night. She reminded me once that I’m actually not tall, to which I replied, “I’m working on it!”
Next, I plop down on the floor for what the PT calls the morning stretch. Arms along my sides, palms down, I lift my arms up over my head and rest them on the floor, palms up. It used to be that my arms wouldn’t rest on the floor, but now they do! In this position, I first stretch my right arm and right leg, then left arm and left leg followed by different prescribed permutations of left-right, right-left. It feels complicated in my brain.
Often, after finishing one whole round, a voice in my head pipes, “Nicky, what about the breathing part?” The breathing part is always difficult for me to pay attention to. It’s like counting, I need to focus. So I start over, this time exhaling while exerting myself in the stretches, and inhaling while relaxing my muscles. When I forget to breathe, I try to mirror the PT’s gentle acceptance of me. Sometimes, that’s difficult.
I won’t bore you further with more details about my morning routine, but it includes three more involved stretches, then hooking up to a vocal mist device for ten minutes to keep sinus cavities clear, jotting a brief journal entry, performing eighteen rounds of Rocking Motion & three Bird Flaps its Wings from Tai Chi Chih and Seijaku, followed by lighting a votive candle prior to twenty minutes of mediation.
This morning, after finishing all this, I looked at the clock, and said, like the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland: “Oh dear, it’s late!” Adding: “and I haven’t done anything yet.”
When I got to ‘anything yet’, I gasped. My eyes wide, I thought: What do you mean you haven’t done anything yet?
This is when I began to wonder if unconsciously I believe I am unworthy of such good self-care.
How do you sabotage your self-care?
IMAGE: Sunrise taken through the window with my phone because camera steadfastly refuses to turn on. Welcome, Nicky, to the twenty-first century. Thank you to Mason Hiatt for helping me step over the threshold.
