Why I refuse to do "everything in moderation"

/ Inspire Santé/
Why I refuse to do "everything in moderation"

Today, as I ran from my physical therapist's clinic to my yoga studio, I was reminded of something that I can't afford to moderate: my courage. At one point, as I've shared, going to my PT's clinic ("my PT") for tune-ups was a challenge.  I wanted to be "better," and I thought that meant "having no need for any medical intervention."  As I've grown these past two years, becoming an athlete, a yogi, a 40-pounds-heavier, living, breathing woman, I've changed my mind. My PT is vital to my enjoyment of life, because she allows me to continue to be courageous.  She'll be there if I fall (as she's demonstrated oh-so-many times before).

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Dealing with the disconnect between being "healthy" and "pain-free"

/ Inspire Santé/
Dealing with the disconnect between being "healthy" and "pain-free"

I walked out the door of the clinic that day proud and nervous.  Was I really better?  She assured me that I was.  My doctor and husband and family and girlfriends assured me that I was.  So, I figured I’d take this “healthy” thing for a spin.

If health is a state of existing in perfect comfort and contentment, it was short lived.

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Demystifying "supported independence" as a treatment goal

/ Inspire Santé/
Demystifying "supported independence" as a treatment goal

When I stopped seeing my PT regularly, I tried to avoid coming back in for visits.  I wanted to feel like I was actually healthy, and not relying so heavily on her help.  This sounds silly now, but at the time, I hadn’t gone more than a couple of weeks without PT for years.  But after seeing my health through this goofy construct for a few months, I began to understand that a much better goal is a state of “supported independence.”

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Stop period-shaming women.

/ Inspire Santé/
Stop period-shaming women.

My first period was dreadful from the first drop. I grabbed several pads and headed to my room with a tear-stained face. For the next few hours, until my mother returned home, I checked my underwear every few moments.  Each time that I saw blood, I changed the pad.  I think I probably changed it every 20 minutes until she came home.  I had no idea what I was supposed to do and was woefully unprepared for this moment. 

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