I’m really good at plowing through pain. I tell myself that it’s the only way someone with chronic pain like me can get things done. I want to tackle as much as I can–be it work, chores, exercise, or fun, in community and on my own, because inevitably, the pain will force me to stop. When I’m forced to stop, I keep still and wait until the pain eases. I have to wait it out for days, sometimes weeks. Those days are difficult, often laced with confused emotions, guilt, anxiety, and sadness. So on the flip side of doing too much, I find myself doing very little, while waiting. Through college, graduate school, work, and married life, this pain controls what I can or can’t do, my mood, relationships, confidence, interests, and plans.
This summer, desperate and discouraged, I enrolled in a 12-week pain rehabilitation education program at Mary Free Bed Hospital, in Grand Rapids, Michigan. There, our cohort was presented with an alternative way of getting things done: pacing. Mind blowing and groundbreaking? Not really. It’s simple, but most of us are terrible at remembering to do it. I believe anyone, not just those of us dealing with illness and pain, would benefit from practicing a “slow and steady” approach to life.
When pacing, activity is timed and we plan rest breaks. Rest does not equate to doing nothing. Rest or downtime activities are intentional restorative activities. Some examples of rest include sorting the mail, making a phone call, hydrating, pausing from looking at the computer to rest our eyes, messaging a friend, and deep breathing exercises to bring our stress level down.
Remembering to rest while we’re still going strong doesn’t happen easily. My brain refuses downtime because I believe I can do more. We like to connect frequent rest breaks to unhelpful narratives of I’m not giving it my all or I'm lazy. Knowing this would be an issue, our instructor told us to set a timer. Our timed activity is determined by taking the average length of time we’re able to tolerate activity free of pain, reduced further by 20%. I’m now pacing my daily exercises and outdoor yard work. Instead of letting pain determine how long and far I can walk or do yard work, I time both activities so they last only 15 minutes. Since pacing, I’ve actually been able to do more in the long run. This in contrast to previously trying to power through in one fell swoop, followed by days of being out. By breaking up my activities and planning periods of rest, I feel more in control, instead of overwhelmed by the unpredictability of pain and pain itself.
Where in your life are you being invited to pace and intentionally plan restorative breaks? How might pacing strengthen your relationship with God and loved ones? What are some examples of ways you like to rest and restore? How have others demonstrated “slow and steady” for you?
Continue the conversation in the comments, below!
This summer, desperate and discouraged, I enrolled in a 12-week pain rehabilitation education program at Mary Free Bed Hospital, in Grand Rapids, Michigan. There, our cohort was presented with an alternative way of getting things done: pacing. Mind blowing and groundbreaking? Not really. It’s simple, but most of us are terrible at remembering to do it. I believe anyone, not just those of us dealing with illness and pain, would benefit from practicing a “slow and steady” approach to life.
When pacing, activity is timed and we plan rest breaks. Rest does not equate to doing nothing. Rest or downtime activities are intentional restorative activities. Some examples of rest include sorting the mail, making a phone call, hydrating, pausing from looking at the computer to rest our eyes, messaging a friend, and deep breathing exercises to bring our stress level down.
Remembering to rest while we’re still going strong doesn’t happen easily. My brain refuses downtime because I believe I can do more. We like to connect frequent rest breaks to unhelpful narratives of I’m not giving it my all or I'm lazy. Knowing this would be an issue, our instructor told us to set a timer. Our timed activity is determined by taking the average length of time we’re able to tolerate activity free of pain, reduced further by 20%. I’m now pacing my daily exercises and outdoor yard work. Instead of letting pain determine how long and far I can walk or do yard work, I time both activities so they last only 15 minutes. Since pacing, I’ve actually been able to do more in the long run. This in contrast to previously trying to power through in one fell swoop, followed by days of being out. By breaking up my activities and planning periods of rest, I feel more in control, instead of overwhelmed by the unpredictability of pain and pain itself.
Where in your life are you being invited to pace and intentionally plan restorative breaks? How might pacing strengthen your relationship with God and loved ones? What are some examples of ways you like to rest and restore? How have others demonstrated “slow and steady” for you?
Continue the conversation in the comments, below!
Monik KadarmantoMonik Kadarmanto, M.Ed, has found home in a number of places, including Oregon; Michigan; Virginia; Jakarta, Indonesia; and South Australia. She enjoys exploring new places, new cuisines, new people, new recipes, and change in general. Monik identifies as a bilingual immigrant woman of color who has a disability (chronic disease/pain), and is a wife and dog mom. Monik has a Masters in Social Justice in Education from Flinders University of South Australia and has worked in a number of supportive roles in higher ed. She also enjoys sewing, thrifting, reading and taking slow walks at local botanical gardens and nature preserves. Monik is a member of the Eden Spiritual Care board. |  |
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