First and foremost, I really hope you don’t have to go through the pain of injury. But as you’re a human being living your life, I know that that wish is a futile one. As Wesley in “The Princess Bride” famously said:
“Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”
(Sidenote: The Princess Bride is my all-time favorite movie. The book, however, is a thousand times better, and the above quote is actually spoken by Fezzik’s mother. I highly recommend reading the 30th Anniversary edition cover-to-cover, and then deeply lamenting the fact that William Goldman never finished writing “Buttercups’ Baby.” Very sorry for that minor spoiler, but you’ll see what I mean.)
We get hurt. That’s life. I started Pilates because I had chronic knee pain as a kid, and I wanted to not hurt. (It worked.) I’ve broken my arms (both at the same time — I’ll totally tell you that story if you ask me), I’ve injured my hamstring and rib cage dancing, I’ve thrown out my neck and my back on many occasions, I had all sorts of physical issues because of a tumor I didn’t know I had for years, I’ve fallen down stairs, off of bikes, bit it while walking down the street (the corner of my front tooth is not real because of that one), broken my toe while teaching (ALWAYS wear your teaching shoes, kiddos). Don’t get me started on that special hormonal pain that’s just for the ladies. And then there’s the mental and emotional anguish of life. People who hurt you. Relationships that go bad. Self sabotage. Jobs lost. Friendships lost. People who pass and leave a huge hole in your heart.
We get hurt.
But getting hurt is how we grow. It’s one of the ways we become who we’re supposed to be. I won’t take up too much of your time with my own journey — you’ve got your own life to deal with. But I will tell you that I have learned and grown from every physical and emotional injury I have ever had. It has given me insight into and empathy for the pain of others, as well as opportunity to explore a different aspect of my Pilates practice. I think (and if you work with me on a regular basis, you can correct me if I’m wrong) it’s one of the reasons people trust me with their bodies and emotions. Working one-on-one with a teacher in any capacity, especially one that requires you to move your body in unfamiliar ways, can feel incredibly scary and uncomfortable. It is important to choose a teacher who you can trust.
I know you’re going to get hurt out there, and I’m sorry. I think my real hope for you is that you always have a safe place to heal, to process, to learn, and to grow. With a friend, with a teacher, with family. Maybe with me. I hope you become more you. Stronger, more empathetic, more loving. I hope you don’t close yourself off to life’s experiences. It’s hard, but it’s also so, so beautiful.