One of the best pieces of advice my physiotherapist gave me was to keep moving. Even if I was in pain. Even if I felt crappy. Even if I was stiff and sore and scared I needed to keep moving.
It was great advice and I am trying to remember it.
At the end of the semester I got out of the habit of taking care of myself and working out when coursework ate me. I am trying to get back to that.
I’ve been doing yoga again — on the days when the piles on my floor can be shifted enough to make space for my mat, that sacred wonderful space — inspired by the Everyday Therapy Podcast. They did an episode about yoga and how the breathing part is actually super valuable for managing anxiety and depression so I am giving that a shot instead of rolling my eyes. Apparently I am really bad at breathing. It’s a lot harder to do while also trying not to fall over.
On top of the need for me to take care of myself or suffer the consequences (feeling awful) I love the sentiment of keep moving. Keep going, keep trying, move forward, fumble through it even if it’s hard and unclear and scary.