I hurt my hip. Or maybe the right way to explain this is to say my hip started hurting around Thanksgiving and it won’t stop.
I thought it was my hip flexor until the pain rooted down deep in that groove where your leg attaches to your core. It was like a squatter looking for a home, burrowing in for winter hibernation. In an effort to fight the pain, I took a stretching class with my friend, Diane, on “Tension Release Exercise.” I learned that it might not be my hip flexor, but rather it might be my psoas. (I never even knew I had a psoas.) So there we were my left psoas and me, squared off in the ring … me issuing eviction notices; it hunkering down for the storm.
I have tried trickery. Befriending it seemed like a good idea. I named it The Lorax. I thought if I pictured it as a bright, fluffy thing, it might reduce its power over me. I asked it nicely to find a new place to live. I stretched it with a strap and chanted …
“I am not a host for The Lorax.”
“I am not a host for The Lorax.”
Perhaps this was too negative, so I switched my chant to …
“The Lorax has found a nice home in the country.”
“The Lorax has found a nice home in the country.”
This is the technique I used to get rid of plantar fasciitis, but The Lorax ain’t buying it. Like a temper tampering toddler, it has thrown itself down on the floor of my hip and will not be moved.
So, I then did what I always do when things won’t change, I started coping with it. Much like we all do when our cars are making knocking noises or our phone batteries aren’t keeping their charge or a letter on our keyboard sticks or worse yet, something is wrong in our marriage or our family or our job … I justified the pain and kept on going.
***
Last Monday, during Boot Camp, we were doing squats. I haven’t really mentioned to our trainer, Blaze that I have hip issues because the only thing I hate more than whining is pansying.
During our heavy squats, Blaze stood and watched me, and then he had the audacity to take the weight bar off my back with this statement, “Don’t put weight on top of dysfunction.”
He actually removed the weight, racked it and told me to work on my range of motion sans weights. I was humiliated. I was stunned and confused. I stood for a moment … cuss or cry … cuss or cry. Cuss.
I was insulted that someone would remove weight when I was working so hard, when I was trying to pretend that The Lorax didn’t exist. I could keep on doing what I always did as long as I didn’t admit that there was a problem. Lifting heavy weights was making my situation worse, because until you fix the dysfunction, it can’t support a load. Dysfunction weakens … this is true of body, mind, heart, and spirit. It is just really hard to admit, especially when the fix might be unchartered ground.
Funny thing about the f-word (feedback,) when you really stop and listen, it has application. I didn’t need weight. I needed to seek something real for healing. We can only be better when we move from denial and coping and call things what they truly are … even when it’s The Lorax and it’s a real bitch.
Nice job chick. I admire the way you create word pictures for us, the readers ("Like a temper tampering toddler, it has thrown itself down on the floor of my hip and will not be moved."). That's a real skill I'm learning from you. Appreciate your honest reflection and insight. Your thoughts convicted me about some denial/coping in my own life. Thanks for helping me be better.
You forgot to mention the unilateral psoai, but still, the Lorax is a better name! You bring every day situations and turmoil into the hard core real stuff that happens in life. That is a gift! Thanks for sharing and now it is time to "fix" the Lorax's or Psoai in our lives! I am better because of you and your insight. Glad to see your post! As Rich said, "Thanks for helping me be better", too!