Growing Pain

This past weekend, Big Guy and I moved—into his father’s home in a different state, and into a new season of life as caregivers.

My preference would have been to not make this move—but I knew it was necessary. Just to make it clear, God pushed away every other option we’d thought we would have, leaving no doubt as to what we should do.

For several weeks now, I have been purging, sorting, organizing, packing, lifting, bending, twisting, and pushing as I’ve tried to figure out what we need to have with us, what I wanted to have with us, and what could reasonably and safely be stored.

I. Am. Sore.

I’ve had a general achiness on top of long-time arthritis, and at some point, I also strained some muscles.

By the day of the move, I could barely walk. It turned out that I could also barely sit. Driving the car put me in the exact wrong position. I had to stop at least once an hour to stretch out and walk through incredible pain and muscle spasms.

The Pain of Moving

Now I’m trying to get settled in. Although this work of moving in doesn’t have a deadline and so can be done more slowly, I have still been in some pain.

We have boxes and tubs stacked in the garage. We bring in one or two boxes at a time while I integrate my things into an existing home without disrupting too much of someone else’s life. Big Guy is doing the heavy lifting for me, but I am the one reaching into my late mother-in-law’s kitchen cabinets to figure out how to merge my kitchen things into hers.

This, too, is painful. Physically, I am using muscles that still ache from the work of preparing to move. It is emotionally painful as well. I loved my mother-in-law, and every cabinet is filled with memories of family gatherings, conversations, shared recipes, and more.

When I encounter yet another set of memories, I stand frozen for just a moment—until my leg or back remind me that standing in the same place in the same posture for more than two minutes will cause my pain to flare up again.

So I move on.

When in Pain . . .

I have been trying to use common sense in dealing with my pain.

I switch back and forth between activity and rest.

I alternate standing and sitting.

I make a point to stretch—gently—when I have been busy.

I stopped pushing myself. As I said, there’s no deadline. If it takes me a month to move everything from the garage into the house, so be it. Rushing might turn my short-term injury into a long-term problem, so I allow myself to go slowly.

I lie down with a heating pad when I am sore.

Yesterday I took it very, very easy. I did only things I could do sitting, and I spent much of the day on the heating pad. This morning I felt so much better, so I risked the walk to the post office, just two blocks away.

At first, I felt fine. It was great to move my legs normally again—and then, half a block from the post office, I realized that my leg was about to go into spasms.

Fortunately, this happened as I was walking by the village park. I sat down in the gazebo for a while, enjoying the shade and the sounds of children playing on the playground. I noticed that there is a free little lending library stand right there. As many times as I have been in this village to visit my husband’s family, I had never noticed the gazebo before—and I realized that it was a lovely and refreshing place to be. I had found unexpected joy in this place for rest and shade.

I stretched my legs and back, I rested a few more minutes, and then I finished my trip to the post office.

On the way home, I sat at the gazebo again, this time because I knew it would be good for my heart, not just for my body. I wanted another moment of joy before heading pack to my unpacking.

Moving into New Seasons of Life

Moving into new thoughts, feelings, or actions in life can be painful as well—including making changes in our marriage in general or specifically regarding sex.

Sometimes we’re sore just from doing what is necessary to prepare us to do the work—handing off a volunteer responsibility, finding the right counselor, or making time for extra prayer or Bible study.

Some of our pain can grow from facing difficult memories, addressing past trauma, dealing with our own guilt or shame, or learning how to speak up about things we don’t even like to whisper about.

When we try to do something different, we find that we are using mental and emotional muscles that haven’t gotten much activity lately. Every effort makes us sore, and a whole lot of effort in a short period of time can be downright painful.

If we aren’t used to the level of reflection, prayer, and effort involved in making changes, even one step can make us freeze or ball up in pain.

When we’re making a change we don’t particularly want to make, we might be resisting against our own efforts. This is going to hurt, too.

Many things that help with physical pain can also help with the growing pain of making changes:

• Take it slowly. Slow progress is still progress.
• Switch back and forth between activity and rest. If you work really hard at new thinking or actions for a week, it’s okay to not push yourself the next week.
• Alternate being attentive and intentional with being responsive to your husband.
• When you’ve been putting out a lot of effort, make a point to gently stretch yourself in ways unrelated to your marriage. For example, pray gentle prayers or test out your new thoughts in your head before trying them out on your husband.
• Don’t push yourself to go faster than you are prepared to do. If it takes you longer than you would like to make progress, so be it. Rushing growth doesn’t really solve anything.
• When you are sore, apply aids that give you comfort—a bubble bath, tea, or even a nap when you need to rest.

Find Your Gazebo

On those days when you find that you need to pause because you pushed yourself too much, give yourself permission to rest, whether you have only taken a few steps or you are only a few steps away from your goal. Look for a place where you can catch your breath and even stretch a bit.

If you need to rest, rest—and perhaps you will find yourself in an emotional gazebo, a place that gives you some unexpected joy as you rest in the shade before getting back to work. Then you’ll be ready to get back to your journey.

And so you move on . . .

Image credit | StockSnap at pixabay.com