I’m good on my feet and now I’m good to my feet, but I wasn’t always. I took them for granted. I expected them to get me from point A to point B no questions asked, until the day they didn’t.
The day that I stepped on a far too tight muscle, once too often, and pain ensued. The day that with the pain came a message, a reminder of sorts about how a single part effects the whole. The day that the awareness hit me like a freight train that healing comes in its own time on its own schedule not mine.
Now, every day, I wake up slowly languishing in bed for a few moments connecting to my body and spirit, stretching lightly from head to toe, paying special attention to my feet.
I know they intend to support me, but now EVERY DAY I remind myself it’s a two-way street, I must support them, too.
