Why stopping to feel might be the bravest thing you can do
If you’re navigating an injury or a setback in your physical abilities, you probably know the feeling. That gut-wrenching moment when the pain flares up again, maybe worse than before, right when you thought you were making progress. The feelings of disappointment come in, and old automatic thoughts rear their head instantly “Here we go again,” “I’m right back where I started,” “This feels like it’s never going to get better.” “when am I going to get a break?”
It’s a horrible place to be. And often, our first instinct, fuelled by many things; frustration, societal pressure, or habit, is to grit our teeth and push harder. We tell ourselves to be strong, to not give in. We might throw ourselves into work, chores, anything to stay busy, to keep moving, hoping to outrun the disappointment and sadness nipping at our heels.
I know this pattern because I’ve lived it. Dealing with a persistent injury, I’d finally felt like I was inching forward, painstakingly slow step by step. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the pain roared back, fierce and familiar. The despair was instant and overwhelming. My immediate reaction? To become incredibly busy. I launched myself into endless tasks, from cleaning, organising, de-weeding– anything to keep my body moving and my mind distracted from the crushing disappointment that yoga, walks, and swims felt further away than ever. If I just kept myself busy, then maybe the sadness won’t catch up? Maybe I won’t feel the pain that my body feels like it’s failing me…But it always does catch up, doesn’t it?
One day, exhausted and still hurting, I made a different choice. I decided to stop. Not stop trying forever but stop the frantic pushing and avoiding. I let myself actually feel the sadness that had been simmering beneath the surface. I spoke to my husband, letting the words tumble out - the frustration, the sense of my body failing me. Later, I sat with a journal, not trying to find solutions, but just letting the anger and deep disappointment spill onto the page.
It felt counter-intuitive. It felt messy. Part of me (yes, even the psychologist part of me that knows what’s going on) just wanted to go back to being “productively” busy. Facing the feelings head-on felt vulnerable, and well, too time-consuming.
But here’s what I’m trying to gently remind myself: pausing isn’t weakness. Stopping to acknowledge the emotional reality of a setback isn’t giving up. In fact, it might be one of the bravest and most necessary things we can do.
Why? Because those feelings – the grief for what we can’t do, the anger at our bodies for not being able to do what we want them to do, the fear about the future – they don’t disappear just because we ignore them. They often just get louder, leak out sideways in irritability, or drain our energy reserves. Pushing them down takes immense effort.
Allowing ourselves to pause, to simply notice and name what we’re feeling (“Okay, I feel really sad right now,” “I’m feeling angry and helpless”), creates space. Space to breathe. Space to stop fighting ourselves for a moment. And often, it’s only in that space, once the emotional storm has been acknowledged (even if it hasn’t fully passed), that we can begin to explore where to go from there. For me, that pause was what allowed me to revisit my physio’s advice with a calmer mind and start thinking creatively about what movement was actually possible, rather than just mourning what wasn’t.
So, if you’re caught in that cycle of pushing through physical or emotional pain, maybe consider this as a gentle invitation: Could you give yourself permission to pause, just for a little while? It might feel uncomfortable, even scary. But acknowledging your hurt, your frustration, your sadness, isn’t admitting defeat. It’s an act of profound self-kindness. And sometimes, it’s the very thing we need to do to gather ourselves and find a sustainable path forward.
Okay, I Can’t Do [My Thing]… But What Can My Body Do Right Now?
There’s a particular kind of frustration that settles in when an injury or chronic pain puts your favourite ways of moving on hold. Maybe you’re a runner sidelined by knee pain, a swimmer with a shoulder injury, a person who loves yoga, nursing a back issue, or perhaps walking the dog is suddenly off the cards due to hip pain. You know you need to rest, to modify, to follow the physio’s advice. But facing the reality of not being able to do your thing can feel incredibly deflating.
It’s so easy to fall into an all-or-nothing trap. The thinking goes something like this: “If I can’t run, there’s no point.” “If I can’t lift heavy, I might as well do nothing.” “If I can’t make it to my usual class, I’m completely stuck.” The door to our cherished activity slams shut, and it can feel like all doors to movement and enjoyment have closed with it.
I know this feeling well. When my ongoing struggles with my injuries flared up badly again after a period of slow progress, the loss felt immense. My go-to activities for my sense of joy and well-being – floor yoga, short walks, open-water swimming – were suddenly off the table, feeling further away than ever. It was incredibly easy to stay stuck and dwell on those closed doors, feeling trapped and despondent.
But after allowing myself to pause and actually feel that disappointment (which is crucial, as I wrote about before), I started to ask a different question, prompted by my physio’s advice for ‘relative rest’. The question wasn’t just “What can’t I do?”, but shifted slightly to: “Okay, acknowledging my current limits… is there anything I can do? Is there any way to move my body right now that feels okay, maybe even good?”
This is about searching for the ‘adjacent possible’ – the options that lie right next door to the ones that are currently unavailable. It requires a bit of creativity and a willingness to think outside our usual frames of what constitutes exercise.
My own search looked something like this: Could I manage some simple arm weights while sitting, focusing on upper body strength? Turns out, yes. Could I still experience the mental reset of cold water by just going for a dip, even if swimming laps was impossible? Yes, that felt achievable. Could I try kayaking, using my arms and core in a way that didn’t aggravate my legs and back? With care, yes, that became a new possibility.
Were these activities the same as my beloved yoga or long walks? No. Did they give me the exact same physical or mental release? Not always. But finding something I could do, within my limitations, was empowering. It broke the feeling of stagnation. It reminded me that my body was still capable, just in different ways for now. It provided a sense of agency and, honestly, a bit of much-needed enjoyment.
So, how can you find your own ‘adjacent possible’ when you feel stuck?
- Know your boundaries: First, get really clear on your actual limitations from your doctor or physio. What movements are definite no-gos? What needs caution? Understanding the boundaries is key to exploring safely.
- Think outside your box: If running is out, what about cycling (stationary or outdoors)? Swimming with a pull buoy? Aqua jogging? Using an elliptical or cross-trainer? If high-impact is the issue, explore low-impact options.
- Focus on parts, not just the whole: If your legs are injured, what upper body or core exercises are safe and accessible? Resistance bands, light weights, or seated exercises might be options. If it’s your shoulder, what lower body work can you do?
- Chase the feeling: What did your usual activity give you? If it was the stress relief of rhythmic movement, could gentle swimming, seated marching, or even mindful breathing exercises offer a taste of that? If it was being outdoors, could you sit in the garden, find a comfortable bench in the park, or try that gentle dip in the water?
- Ask for ideas: Your physio is a great resource. Ask them: “Given my limitations, can you suggest any creative or alternative ways I could move safely?”
- Listen intently: this is crucial. Try new things tentatively. Pay close attention to how your body feels during and after . This isn’t about pushing through; it’s about gentle exploration.
Living with injury limitations is undoubtedly frustrating. It’s natural to mourn the loss of familiar activities. But challenging the all-or-nothing thinking and exploring your ‘adjacent possible’ can be a powerful act of resilience. It’s a way to stay engaged with your body, support your mental health, and maybe even discover new ways of moving that you enjoy, all while respecting the healing process. There might be more possibilities within your current constraints than you think.