Rhythm disrupted

Four months ago, I left Canberra, leaving my pool, and my rhythm of regular exercise in that pool, behind.

I had been for a few walks in recent months, some of them, delightfully, by the beach. I had not found a rhythm of walking regularly.

I had been for one swim in a friend’s pool, and enjoyed the spa there, too. Our hoped-for rhythm for fortnightly swims had not unfolded.

New diagnosis, new opportunity

Then a diagnosis of another chronic illness, on top of life with Fatigue and the Black Dog, got me access to an exercise physiologist, and eight group sessions with an individual exercise program in the pool. Water has proved so helpful for the Chronic Fatigue; warm water soothes inflamed, aching muscles; held in the water, I can move more freely. We agreed I would do two sessions per week for a month – that will use up the sessions for which I do not have to pay. After a month, I’ll return for a longer one-on-one session, when we will assess my progress, and plan an ongoing rhythm I can manage and afford.

The days between pool sessions, I will walk. I had told of both my love for walking, and my lack of capacity for longer walks while the Chronic Fatigue flares. That walking or swimming helps with my writing process. That walking outside in the fresh air and sunlight helps with depression. I had also mentioned that I had found a short, not too hilly walk in my neighbourhood. I was encouraged to do that walk, between the sedentary work of writing in which I am mostly engaged. If I cope well with that walk, I can add another – do two, even three, short walks a day, but don’t do longer walks yet.

Gifted

Can I tell you the first gift about this first session with the exercise physiologist?

I was heard.

She heard me as the expert of my experience with Chronic Fatigue – I know I need to move, and take care not to move too much.

She heard me as the expert of my experience with Depression – I know walking helps me live well with that illness.

She heard me on the type of exercise I enjoy – walking, swimming.

Further gifts I received in that half hour introductory session included:

When we agreed the plan for developing a rhythm of exercise, she worked with my capacity. What can you do? Do that.

There was no shame for, nor even focus on, what I cannot do.

There was no shame on the weight issue: indeed, there was affirmation for a hard-won perspective I now hold. I do not have a size in mind; rather, my aim is to be healthy. To be well. good, she said. That is a helpful way to go. (I also received no weight-shaming from my GP or the clinic nurse as we worked together on responding to this diagnosis, which for me has more cause in genetics than weight, which has been coming down in recent years after many years of illness and medication induced challenges.)

I hadn’t even started exercising, apart from thirty seconds of squats for a baseline against which we can test progress, and I already felt better. I felt empowered. I felt supported. I was not alone.

Rhythm returning

I have been to two pool sessions, and the program my EP wrote for me again showed me I’d been heard. She included an exercise I know addresses my old injury of chronic shin-splints, and a balance of cardio and resistance exercise. I have walked around the block twice, as well as some shorter walks from office to shops, inspired and empowered to look for opportunities to move. I am also parking my car further from doors, a few more steps more often, claiming again that I am recovering from Chronic Fatigue, however many ebbs interrupt the flow of healing.