Yesterday in yoga, my fourth class of the week, I found myself moving through poses I would have found challenging any day. No, I didn't do everything: I can't backbend, lie on my belly or twist comfortably yet, but I was in the groove.
We then took the dogs for a long walk, had dinner out, and stayed up late watching a movie. We ran into an acquaintance at one point during the evening, visiting the city for a
week, and he asked if we wanted to hook up for a long bike ride. I mentioned I wasn't up for it yet, that my stamina still needs building back up.
He was incredulous. Apparently I'd seemed so myself he'd forgotten I had surgery.
I've been trying to forget it too.
Our plans to head to the beach were rained out and I couldn't stand another day at home. So, we hopped into the car and went suburban shopping. I had no idea perusing the aisles of Target could be so exhausting. Usually an avid shopper I wandered listlessly, nothing, not even summer shades of nail polish able to break through the fatigue.
I was tired to the point of nausea. Or, the discomfort in my abdomen could have been from wearing pants. Or, yesterday's over-stretching could have caused the soreness deep in my belly. 3 of my 4 incisions hurt, sometimes cramping, sometimes stinging.
I came home, pulled on sweats, crawled into bed and crashed. Hard.
On the other side of a 2 hour nap I've learned a lesson. I have to be better to myself. I have to respect what I've been through. I have to stop feeling bad and guilty and like I'm failing because I can't do everything myself.
It's ok to ask for help. And it's ok to not be back in my game yet. I will be. But it'll happen faster if I move with ease instead of force. And if I give myself a break.