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I am coming up on my one-year anniversary since the evening in which I had the joyful experience of tumbling down the last stair on a staircase and severely spraining my ankle. While this may not sound like the end of the world, in the moment, I was stunned and unable to move from the pain. This was the night I learned what “trauma tremors” were as my body was uncontrollably shaking and an ice pack was reducing me to a puddle of tears. Very sadly, this took place on the last night of a vacation in the mountains. I was grateful this fall didn’t happen on the hike I had been on the day before, but it definitely put a damper on the trip as a whole. Upon returning home, a visit to an orthopedic surgeon’s office prescribed me crutches, painkillers, and to stop and smell the roses. You might be wondering, “How did that happen?! Weren’t you paying attention??” Valid questions. I wish I could blame it on being dark or that I wasn’t holding on to the railing (there was a light on and I was holding the railing). Or even that I was so tired from pushing myself the day before on the hike (which was true, but not a good excuse). The unglamorous truth was that I was rushing to get down the stairs. Other things felt more important like getting dinner started and packing so I was ready to leave the next day. As I was crying while trying to keep ice on the ankle and distracting myself with the latest episode of Love is Blind, I had to ask myself, “Where else does rushing and emphasizing efficiency show up in my life? Is there a cost I haven’t been seeing?” In the days and weeks following, I was definitely side-lined, pulled off to the side of the road, benched. The images were never-ending of how halted I felt. The consequence of moving too fast on the stairs resulted in me needing to slow way down. Every movement I took was painful for a long time, which meant being more meticulous with when I got out of bed or up from the couch. Cooking took longer. Showering took longer. The activities I tend to mindlessly glide through in my daily life were forcing me into a space of mindfulness around my movement and speed. Despite the pain, this became the reminder I needed that being present and taking my time leads me to enjoying these activities more, even the mundane ones. Nearly a year later, my ankle has made a full recovery, but it will never be the same. There are times when I am pushing myself too hard and my ankle reminds me to slow down. It’s a slight stiffness that comes and goes, just loudly enough to ask me to pause and stretch, while also quiet enough to whisper that there is strength in sustainability. I can go further when I take my time and respect the natural signs that arise in my body. I can go further when I notice the beauty around me. What might this look like for you? Could it be… Showing yourself grace that your pace may not look the same as others? Showing yourself grace that society’s standard of accomplishments are set impossibly high and holding the knowledge that you have permission to decide how you want to proceed? Scheduling in more days of rest to your schedule where being productive is not a part of the agenda? Choosing relationships that create space for you to be yourself without any pressure to perform or contort into an inauthentic version of yourself?
The image above represents a sweet moment of pulling over to the side of the road and noticing beauty. I was on the way down from a volcano summit after watching the sunrise in Maui, which was nothing short of magical. Pulling over for a moment to observe the clouds was special on its own. A secondary purpose of pulling over was to let people go around who wanted to drive faster. In this moment, I wanted to make space to slow down myself. The image of the car above the clouds feels like the reminder I need that I do not have to be moving, producing, or creating in order to be surrounded by beauty, find value in the moment, or find value in myself. Just being is enough. The questions from the ankle recovery period are as true now that I’m healed as they were when I was healing: how often do I hit the proverbial “gas pedal” and feel the need to stay on track with others? How often do I tell myself stories about how my capacity is less than others based on their output and, therefore, I must do more and stay in the fast lane? Can I choose to slow down without an external force telling me I need to? What organic, precious moments would I miss if I wasn’t taking the time to pause and notice the world around me? Mountain clarity: A slower, more sustainable way of being and life in the fast lane cannot exist simultaneously. Slowing down does mean others will pass by. Their story isn’t your story. There’s a reason we are prone to making errors when we go too fast and don’t double check our work. Accuracy and sustainability should be prioritized over speed. If you crash and burn, it was all for nothing. But maybe in the slowing down, you are able to catch beauty and inner peace that would be missed otherwise. Being aware of the small details around you allow you to feel more connected to the world at large. This small act is a reminder of how much more there is outside of ourselves, which puts life in perspective in a way that moving swiftly will never be able to. As you reflect, I encourage you to consider choosing to slow down and pull over on the speedway of life before something or someone else forces you to. And if you do find yourself missing the last step, it’s okay, as long as you allow yourself to learn and grow from the experience. Journaling prompts for reflection: When did you begin valuing speed over stillness? Was there some sort of intrinsic messaging you learned growing up that told you that you were more valuable if you moved faster and produced more? What do you feel afraid of missing out on if you let others pass you on the speedway of life? Do you feel like you might be judged if you went at a different speed than your peers? What feelings might come up if that became your reality? What value do you see in slowing down? Does this notion sound appealing to you? Why or why not? What conditions would need to be met for you to be able to step out of life in the fast lane? Would it mean being in a certain location? A certain tax bracket? Securing a higher job title? What are some ways for you to find more inner peace and slowness today even if none of your immediate circumstances changed?
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