I have been trying to spend less time consuming the internet on weekends. This is harder than it sounds because the internet is right there and my brain is the way that it is. But on the weekends where I mostly unplug, I have thoughts. Sometimes they’re useful. Sometimes they’re just thoughts about thoughts. This weekend it was the latter.

Life is weird and complicated. We never know what’s going on in someone else’s head or what has happened to them in the past and how that shaped them. But that’s a whole large discussion and not the one I’m having today. Today I want to talk about what makes the journey hard.

I don’t think it’s new things. I don’t think it’s change. I don’t think it’s any one specific thing. I think it’s when whatever the thing is feels like a step backwards.

For example. I was diagnosed with a chronic illness about three years ago. That didn’t change my life. It gave me more thinks to thunk, sure, but it didn’t feel like backsliding. It was more of an “Ohhhhh that’s why I hurt all the time” kind of thing. A reframe. An answer to a question I’d been asking my body for years.

However. When that chronic illness directly affected the outcome of my ankle surgery — that fucked me up. It is still fucking me up.

The wound is much smaller than it was. It’s healing. I don’t have to wear the boot thing anymore. I’ve been cleared to get back on a stationary bike — five minutes a day to start rebuilding ankle mobility. These are all objectively good things. Progress. Forward motion. But it doesn’t feel like forward motion. It feels like I’ve been moving backwards. A lot.

For the last two weeks I have been able to walk on my own around the grocery store. This is a BIG DEAL. But five months ago that was just… normal. That was Tuesday. And now when I get done at the store I am exhausted like I climbed a mountain instead of browsed the cereal aisle. I used to be one of those annoying people who could sit on their heels while on their knees — super handy back when I was meditating more. Now I can’t even get close, and if I try I’m winded like I’ve been sprinting. I have always been in good cardio shape. Distance running, soccer, the kind of baseline fitness you don’t think about because it’s just there. Now my five minutes on a stationary bike takes it out of me.

These all feel like going backwards and it is the worst.

What got me thinking about this directly was when I tried to paint war-dollies today. I have a great paint setup — it’s portable, I set it up on the coffee table while we watch TV. But in order to do that I have to sit low. I tried using my meditation bench so I wasn’t all the way down. After about twenty minutes I couldn’t do it anymore. Twenty minutes. Painting tiny plastic guys. And my body said no.

I know a lot of this is my ego. Sarah reminded me of that, because Sarah is correct about most things. The ego is the one keeping score. The ego is the one saying “you used to be able to do this” and “this is pathetic” and all the other helpful commentary that nobody asked for. The problem is that he lives in here with me and I can’t exactly kick him out.

So right now I’m trying to reframe it. Not going backwards. Starting over. It’s the same distance to travel but the direction is different and that matters more than it sounds like it should. Going backwards means you lost something. Starting over means you’re building something. Even if the building looks a lot like sitting on a stationary bike for five minutes and calling it a win.

We’ll see how it goes.