In the Stillness - How Recovery Reminded Me Where to Focus
I really believed that I wouldn’t need 6 weeks to feel like myself and recover from excision surgery. Well, I was right about it not being 6 weeks wrong. I thought I would be good around the 3 to 4-week mark, but I didn’t expect to need almost 11 weeks to regain mobility and confidence in doing simple tasks. As I journaled through my recovery, I kept finding myself a bit frustrated that I needed so much help to do almost everything. I had prepared for an easy recovery and didn’t anticipate how exhausted I would be.
In the first few days after surgery, I didn’t have the strength to hold my phone let alone try to hold a conversation or scroll. I barely stayed awake to watch a show or color a page or two between naps and prescription timers, but I mostly just sat on the couch or in bed while I tried to distract my mind from the pain. After more than a decade of dealing with excruciating pain, I’d never experienced anything this intense.
Stillness was my friend as I processed the state of my body and its response to the trauma of surgery. Sometimes I listed to meditation music and tried to focus on the breath. Other times I just let the tears fall as my husband comforted me. But releasing through words by responding to a prompt or sitting with my feelings as I journaled provided me an outlet when I felt confined. Being still reminded me of the lessons that kept showing up.
lesson #1
slow down
For someone who constantly multitasked and tried to maximize time, sitting on the on the couch and doing nothing could feel unproductive at times. On social media, you can find plenty of therapists and wellness advocates saying that rest is productive. I wholeheartedly agree with this statement and would remind friends of this when we chatted about busy schedules and being tired. I allowed myself to rest, especially when I was in pain, but I had to do something to feel like I wasn’t wasting time while just lying down … whether it was deleting emails from my inbox or drafting a post.
Following surgery, rest on my terms was not an option. Originally, I thought I was going to recover for a few weeks and then get to some light tasks during my time off. I found myself wanting to help my husband as he cared for me because I knew it was a heavy load for a partner. I couldn’t lift a pot, needed help walking and sitting, and didn’t even dare attempt cleaning that would irritate the sensitive muscles. During this period, rest meant actually being still while my body healed.
But my brain kept reminding that there were things to do and I wasn’t doing enough. Looking back over this period, I know that this sneaks into my daily life more often than I realized. I’ll admit that I often have multiple tabs open in my browser as I research things or as reminders to complete something. Simply put, I kept my brain constantly running on everything that needed to be done because I couldn’t let the ball drop. Slowing down meant that open tabs had to wait and actively choosing how to spend my time versus constantly checking things off lists. It also leads to being more present and the ability to embrace the moment, feeling, or environment. I came across alternate meanings for ASAP (as soon as possible) that really resonated and stuck as reminders to take my time and not rush.
as slow as possible
as soft as possible
as soulful as possible
as sustainable as possible
as soft as possible
as sincere as possible
as steady as possible
allow space and pause
lesson #2
room to grow
I typically do things myself because I know that means it will get done and be the “right” way. I’ve wrestled with this for years and eventually connected this to disappointment. First, what is actually right? What’s right for me is wrong, too much, or not enough for someone else. Second, I caught it showing up before I requested help by anticipating the outcome. Third, it really reared its head when I’d ask, but the support didn’t get me what I needed. I had wasted time and could have just done it myself. But where did that actually lead me? More work on my plate and unnecessary stress … nothing that actually helps me.
After being used to doing things myself, imagine relying on someone else for everything. My brain and body didn’t love it. But why was I pushing against it when I knew I had support from someone who genuinely cared for me and wanted the best for me? As I started digging deeper, it registered that bigger feelings popped up around helplessness. I had plenty of time to sit with these feelings and thoughts about desiring control. Eventually, I reached a state of acceptance about the present moment and knew that I would be able to do more soon.
While I made it through recovery and accepting help, I knew there was still room to grow. I considered how I could apply this to other parts of my life. First, I needed to reduce the pressure I placed on myself to control everything because I am clearly not the only person capable of doing tasks. Plus, expending unnecessary energy trying to figure out how to do it myself just added stress, which is not helpful for nervous system regulation. Next, I had to focus on consistently regulating this system. Acknowledging how my body responds to different stressors and which emotions arise when offered help. This is still a work in progress, but I am already feeling the shift in my body.
lesson #3
connect the mind and body
The relationship with your body is the most important and longest one you will ever have. So, it’s crucial for us to be in tune with it and feel safe, with the key to this being a strong connection with the mind. There are several methods to help you build the relationship like mindfulness or therapy, both of which I’ve actively utilized. But during recovery, I found that seeking gratitude over perfection was useful.
While healing, I spent a lot of time reframing my thoughts about my body. As someone who dealt with chronic pain for many years, I had learned to adjust so many things - my food, schedule, products, etc. I thought I was prepared for recovery, but adjusting wasn’t an option when moving an inch hurt. Instead of questioning why my body needed more time to repair itself than the accounts I found online detailing surgery recovery, I had to focus on how my body had already carried me through the scariest part.
I couldn’t be anything but grateful that I made it through surgery without complications. Although abdominal pain took over my life for months as the cuts healed, I still recognized how fortunate I was to avoid any serious negative post-op outcomes. While the whole experience might not have been perfect, an appreciation for my body’s ability to heal and getting a little better each day helped quiet my mind. We severely undervalue what we have and tend focus on the bad parts. A mindset shift allows us to remain present in our bodies and recognize the everyday miracles.