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Feb. 21st, 2003 08:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaMy subconscious mind is so cute. Twice last night I had dreams whose purpose was so transparent that all I could do was laugh at myself. In the first one, my 6:15am Pilates class had been cancelled. I luxuriated in the knowledge that I could sleep an extra hour and a half, until, in my dream, Michael asked how I'd managed to find out that class was cancelled after I had gone to bed. Oh. In the second dream, I arrived at class to discover that everyone else was leaving. I looked at my watch and realized I had misread the time, and it was already 7:40. "There wasn't even any point in trying to make it to class," I said to myself. Heh. Subtle message, there, subconscious mind.
I got up at 5:45 and went to Pilates anyway. Today's class was harder than last week's, or at least involved more things that I had to modify. I was hampered in several of the exercises by my uneven arm lengths and unbendable right elbow. I was able to use yoga blocks to compensate somewhat for the arm length discrepancy, but several things continued to be difficult. It was hard to find the balance of what I could and couldn't - or should and shouldn't - do with my right arm.
I've spent the last twenty-nine years developing cheats and workarounds to compensate for my disabilities and the associated muscle weakness. Unless you've watched me with specific attention, you probably have no idea how extensive my workarounds are. I don't usually have any idea of how extensive they are - most of them are unconscious and automatic. I went through hard-core physical therapy a few years ago, and my therapist kept having to point out things I was doing: I flexed my left knee or put my left foot in front of the right to compensate for my leg length discrepancy, I took longer steps with the left leg than the right, I canted my hips when I stood still. I had never noticed.
I struggled in physical therapy. I was used to using my stronger muscles to carry my weaker ones, and yet the whole point of physical therapy was to isolate the weak muscles and use them. It was all about giving up the easier way and learning to use the hard way. It had benefits: I gained strength, reduced my limp, discovered that the world would not end if I agreed to wear a lift in my shoe (it's a long story), and significantly reduced the pain in my hip and knee. But giving up the compensatory tricks was hard, hard work - emotionally and physically. It felt as though I was being asked to make myself more disabled. After each of the first few sessions, I sat in my car in the parking lot and cried. I had flashbacks to elementary school, being made to put spools on pegs with my right hand when my left hand was clearly the one for the job. On a certain emotional level, it doesn't matter to me if there's a valuable purpose behind an exercise if it makes me feel clumsy and incapable. I really had to fight those feelings to make it through physical therapy.
Pilates is a lot like physical therapy. It's not as relentlessly focused on my particular weaknesses, but there's definitely an emphasis on using the proper muscles and the proper movements - you don't get to cheat and use your strong muscles to carry the weak ones. That wasn't a problem last week, because I could keep up with the rest of the class in almost every exercise. Today it was more difficult. I found myself struggling with clumsy-and-incapable feelings, and having to remind myself that there is nothing humiliating about working hard to obtain useful benefits. It helped to speak to the instructor after class, especially because she hadn't thought I'd failed miserably for the day. She reminded me that even when I am only capable of tiny movements I will still be working the designated muscles. I continue to like her a lot.
I still like Pilates. It's going to be emotional work as well as physical work, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I'll definitely be in a better position now that I know to be vigilant for these feelings. And the whole episode has prompted some useful reflections.
Note: I would very much prefer not to receive either you-poor-thing or you're-so-brave responses to this post. Thanks.
I got up at 5:45 and went to Pilates anyway. Today's class was harder than last week's, or at least involved more things that I had to modify. I was hampered in several of the exercises by my uneven arm lengths and unbendable right elbow. I was able to use yoga blocks to compensate somewhat for the arm length discrepancy, but several things continued to be difficult. It was hard to find the balance of what I could and couldn't - or should and shouldn't - do with my right arm.
I've spent the last twenty-nine years developing cheats and workarounds to compensate for my disabilities and the associated muscle weakness. Unless you've watched me with specific attention, you probably have no idea how extensive my workarounds are. I don't usually have any idea of how extensive they are - most of them are unconscious and automatic. I went through hard-core physical therapy a few years ago, and my therapist kept having to point out things I was doing: I flexed my left knee or put my left foot in front of the right to compensate for my leg length discrepancy, I took longer steps with the left leg than the right, I canted my hips when I stood still. I had never noticed.
I struggled in physical therapy. I was used to using my stronger muscles to carry my weaker ones, and yet the whole point of physical therapy was to isolate the weak muscles and use them. It was all about giving up the easier way and learning to use the hard way. It had benefits: I gained strength, reduced my limp, discovered that the world would not end if I agreed to wear a lift in my shoe (it's a long story), and significantly reduced the pain in my hip and knee. But giving up the compensatory tricks was hard, hard work - emotionally and physically. It felt as though I was being asked to make myself more disabled. After each of the first few sessions, I sat in my car in the parking lot and cried. I had flashbacks to elementary school, being made to put spools on pegs with my right hand when my left hand was clearly the one for the job. On a certain emotional level, it doesn't matter to me if there's a valuable purpose behind an exercise if it makes me feel clumsy and incapable. I really had to fight those feelings to make it through physical therapy.
Pilates is a lot like physical therapy. It's not as relentlessly focused on my particular weaknesses, but there's definitely an emphasis on using the proper muscles and the proper movements - you don't get to cheat and use your strong muscles to carry the weak ones. That wasn't a problem last week, because I could keep up with the rest of the class in almost every exercise. Today it was more difficult. I found myself struggling with clumsy-and-incapable feelings, and having to remind myself that there is nothing humiliating about working hard to obtain useful benefits. It helped to speak to the instructor after class, especially because she hadn't thought I'd failed miserably for the day. She reminded me that even when I am only capable of tiny movements I will still be working the designated muscles. I continue to like her a lot.
I still like Pilates. It's going to be emotional work as well as physical work, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I'll definitely be in a better position now that I know to be vigilant for these feelings. And the whole episode has prompted some useful reflections.
Note: I would very much prefer not to receive either you-poor-thing or you're-so-brave responses to this post. Thanks.
no subject
Date: 2003-02-21 09:46 am (UTC)