The weekend is here and I have passed another self-imposed deadline. Like any good procrastinator, I can come up with a host of reasons why I haven’t been as productive as I would have liked, but nothing has the power to derail productivity like physical pain. I boringly over stretched a hip muscle during a yoga class nearly two weeks ago. Thinking it was just a little niggle, I valiantly went off to another yoga class last night, believing it might improve. Mistake. I was woken up early this morning by the pain and the inability to find a comfortable lying position. My walk has become a shuffling hobble, sitting upright is only slightly better, the constant tingling, pulsing sensation lessens, but doesn’t go away. Needless to say, I can’t stay in this position for long either and my go to Ibuprofen has barely taken the edge off. Never have I wanted to push through pain so badly, not just because of my commitment to this space, but also the need for a change of scenery, outlook, pampering or me time whatever it takes to improve my mood.
It could be the heat (these infernal insect bites have definitely signalled summer) but for a moment this week I was able to look at the positive things happening for me, whilst viewing the negative as unimportant. This is a rare occurrence for me and unfortunately it didn’t last long, but it was a glimpse into how much nicer life could be if I could just let go of some emotional crap. That was definitely the pain talking, it has a way of forcing me to be brutally honest.
Only a couple of days ago I was engaged in a conversation about health, Keto seems to be the latest miracle cure and I’m not sceptical about it at all, I just can’t be bothered. But I was vehemently reminded again, I need to be bothered. Writhing and hobbling about over the last 24 hours has made me promise to improve my dietary habits. In the same way after a hangover, people swear they will never drink alcohol again, then they do. With all the health information available and the potential for mutant chicken to appear, courtesy of the practically inevitable US trade deal, I must take more personal responsibility. While I’m on my pain driven soap box, I might as well mention the beleaguered, beloved NHS. The health service should be for emergencies and serious conditions, rather than mine or anyone else’s childish inability to curb indulgent appetites.
So there you have it, from pain comes creativity, honesty, clarity and political insight. I’ll stop ranting now and try to walk the walk (or hobble) in the direction of better effective pain relief before delirium sets in.