Honor Your Process

One of the best things about injury/illness and recovery is the extra time it gives you. Trust me when I say that I can’t believe I just wrote those words! And, what’s even more impressive is that I never thought I’d actually say it outloud and mean it when I said it!

Time is the most valuable currency we have. We can’t get it back and it seems that we always want more of it. I’ve noticed that the things I love the most in life also require a lot of time. It’s the main way I show I care about something or someone: by giving my time.

But, let’s talk more about believing that the extra time you get after an injury is a gift and not a curse. I can be a bit too devoted to my schedule and easily get caught up in my to-do list, going through life perpetually busy, and making sure to squeeze in everything I need or want to do each day. Being an entrepreneur, running three businesses, and being a daily exercise enthusiast takes constant planning and scheduling to accomplish my goals and achieve the success I desire.

There comes a time when being a business owner becomes stressful, especially from the standpoint of time. It becomes a chore or an obligation. Instead of focusing on the quality or enjoyment of doing what they love, it turns into a numbers game that has them stressing and obsessing about volume, hours, and schedules. I’ve been there before; it was happening more frequently for me before my cancer diagnosis. I felt like my work was becoming a stressor and I was losing sight of why I did it. Instead, I was just focusing on the numbers and “getting it done.”

In my experience, when you become so devoted to a rigid plan, that’s usually when the unexpected creeps in and slaps you in the face, hits you upside the head with a 4×4, or runs you over with a big ass truck! I’ve experienced all of these. These extreme moments force you to slow down and hit the reset button. I’ve had other injuries and illnesses which were very minor in comparison to what I have experienced in these last two years. They never required huge amounts of downtime, but they were still difficult. I had a hard time accepting that I needed to slow down and thus, I resisted it. I became miserable, obsessing about how much fitness I was losing or how lazy I was, instead of listening to my body, letting it heal, and engaging my time and energy in something else. 

Usually by the time I had made peace with slowing down and had started to accept and engage with it, that was the time I had recovered enough that I could return to work. This process kept me afraid of time off, getting sick, injured, and slowing down. It encouraged me to stick to my rigid schedule and believe that doing so was the only way to be successful or feel I was doing enough. 

That process was robbing my joy! 

These last two years of recovery from illness and injury have taught me the importance of slowing down and what that really looks like. It didn’t happen overnight, and it took me a while to appreciate the extra time my injuries and illness brought. But, that process was vital in helping me find balance and restoring my joy.

My counselor, Janet, kept telling me to “honor my process.” It looks different for everyone, it will be different for everyone, and it’s definitely not all rainbows and unicorns. At first, I think I missed the point. I thought honoring my process meant honoring my immediate process, right now. I needed to be patient with my injuries and recovery because I couldn’t move, walk or do the things that gave me joy in the beginning. I thought this “honoring” would only last a few months until I could start walking, working, moving and playing again, and then I’d be fine to continue pushing forward like I always do. But the more I saw how unpredictable and nonlinear my recovery would be, the more I learned the wisdom in Janet’s words. “Honor your process.”  

Honoring my process was a way to honor the change that was about to occur within me. It was a way to accept that I wasn’t going to be the same person, and I accepted that this whole process was about to change not only my whole mentality about how I worked, but also how I viewed my relationships, my time,myself, and my life. The honoring was just the beginning. 

There is more to life than work and play, but before illness and injury I thought of life in distinct blocks or chunks of time, little pieces that must fit in exactly the correct space or place in order to feel complete or experience joy. Life started to feel like a trap! A trap that I was unable to escape even though I set restrictions and enforced the rules. 

My bodywork business and time for exercise, which held such a special place in my life, had started to become this trap. I had to complete a certain number of hours of training, see a certain number of clients, exercise a certain number of miles, and make a certain amount of money in order to feel accomplished. And on top of that was the pressure of comparing those numbers with my peers. 

I was a highly sought after bodyworker and there was a pressure associated with being that, one that no longer afforded the luxury of rest, easy days, or adventures. I had a purpose to help all the people who wanted on my schedule, and going into the office was no longer providing much enjoyment. I had to go because I was needed. I had to go because I feared what might happen if I did not or what would happen if I worked without this diligent structure I carefully created. This perception of time, and how doing my businesses fit into that puzzle, began to weigh on me. My work and exercise began to lose it’s magic and joy. It became a game and cycle of numbers and time.

As a business owner, I was being sucked into this vicious cycle. Thankfully, my path took a different turn, and I had the chance to slow down. Who am I kidding?  I was forced to slow down. Receiving a cancer diagnosis and falling off my bike forced me into a recovery period, not only physically, but mentally. My body needed a full hard stop to repair itself, and my mind had to be patient. I had to learn to love my work again, to not take it for granted, to engage with the ups and downs of owning a business and life, and to rediscover the magic of a joyful and balanced life.

Those months I spent broken, in treatment, and slowly healing are where I learned the value of the time and the gifts that injury and illness can provide. It was then that I started to honor my process, to engage with the other parts of me that were always there. 

My injury and cancer gave me the chance to discover these things all over again. The joy of a slow morning sipping an extra cup of tea, the joy of reading with no rush to complete what I was reading. The joy of slow walks, of rich conversations, of connecting with both new and old friends. The joy of relationships and the bonds that are built simply by sharing a cooked meal together. The joy of sitting with the cat and walking through my garden leisurely. I realized there’s so much more to this world than the numbers and hours you can record in your planner and bank account.

Time began to take on a different pace. It bore the same weight and importance in my mind, but it slowed. I had to focus on one moment at a time and, in doing so, I discovered the beauty of each endeavor. I had the chance to reprioritize my time and decide on how and what I wanted in my life. Time was my currency, and I got to decide what I wanted to spend it on.

I have learned to honor the process of my recovery and not take for granted the time I had. I got to use it as an opportunity for growth and reinvestment in what I valued, instead of spending it on what I thought I should be doing simply out of obligation or compulsion. 

I also learned this process, my process, is far from perfect. There were, and still are, plenty of times I was impatient, unwilling, and stubborn. I didn’t want to honor the fact that I was injured, which would take time and patience to recover. I resisted community; I wanted to isolate myself and not burden others for fear of their pity and judgment. But nothing was worse than the judgment I would pass on myself. So in time, I learned to let go. 

I have realized that time away from something is the best way to know if you truly love it, want it, and need it in your life. In my time away from work and doing the athletic things I love, I discovered that real connections come from raw vluneraviliry and opening up in the times I want isolation. I experienced the freedom of a day with no schedule at all, the satisfaction of honest conversations discussing whatever came to mind. 

In this slow period, I got to think about the reasons I love to work, move, and play, and the reasons why I wanted to return to them again. When I did begin my gradual return, I didn’t rush back, I paced myself. I felt freedom and, for brief instances, I didn’t remember I was injured or “coming back” from something. I was just me, enjoying the movement and being free with my own two feet.

Doing business and movement is mine again, and I am doing it for the joy and the pleasure of it. I am happier. I am fulfilled. This isn’t a comeback. It is something different entirely, something sweeter, more unique and distinctive. I am on a new path able to decipher my own goals and meaning, and my own joy. I am better, improved, and new. I am different. A new kind of business owner — one whose happiness and self-worth don’t require doing business like everyone else, or striving for numbers, one whose self-confidence and joy brings out the best results. 

I am happy and joyful, and because of that, I am healthy and able to do things in movement, play and business that I had never even considered before. Like work with a personal trainer, hire a business coach, and make more income with less effort by adding and selling fun programs and great products. 

Honoring my process brought me to this. If I hadn’t been forced to face my injuries, illness, and recovery, I don’t think I would have discovered this. 

And, it’s never over. I’m still constantly learning, constantly honoring my process. There are many ups and downs, highs and lows, moments when I want to quit and moments when I feel invincible. Each of these is part of the process, and honoring each piece is what makes the whole picture come together.

I still struggle. I still have hard days. I still have to acknowledge the fear I have when I see my physician, get a mammogram, or clip my bike shoes into the pedals of my road bike. The fear of not living up to expectations (mostly my own). And that’s ok! It’s ok to have those fears, to recognize them, work through them, and honor them, while not allowing them to take root. To embrace the fear and move through it. I think that’s what my counselor Janet meant when she kept telling me to honor my process. The process looks different for everyone, and each moment is worth honoring and working through. For me, honoring the lows along with the highs is what allowed me to reach a new level of self-appreciation, self-acceptance, freedom, business, movement, play, and authentic joy. 

“A joyful heart is good medicine.” Proverbs 17:22