Lengthening and Softening
finding flexibility in physical and creative strength
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I used to be at the gym all the time. Workouts 5 days a week. Back and bicep day, glute day, tris and chest day, quad and calf day, and cardio. I did this routine pretty consistently for about two years. I loved the structure. I walked into the gym each day, knowing exactly what I was going to do and how long it was going to take me. I bought a lot of cute, overpriced gym clothes from Paragon and Oneractive, a symptom of watching workout girls on Youtube. But I loved seeing the changes in my body. My toned shoulders, a curvier bottom, tighter thighs. I was building a stronger, sculpted version of myself and I felt so capable.
I didn’t do sports as a kid, opting for dance classes instead, and I have always wondered if I would have thrived in a space where I used my athletic skills. Not that dance isn’t athletic, but there is a softness to it that I have always gravitated towards. Lifting weights at the gym and succeeding at it gave me that feeling of athleticism that I had never experienced before. The process— that feeling— was addicting.
But then, I hurt my back.
I’m not even sure how it happened, but I tried ignoring it at first. I tried stretching longer. I tried using my standing desk more. I lowered my weight and my reps. But the discomfort spread to my hips, which felt tight and achy all the time. There were certain exercises I couldn’t do anymore without aggravating everything. I had to cut my workouts short. Soon, I stopped going to the gym altogether, thinking a week or two of rest would help fix the problem.
But it didn’t.
A few weeks without the gym had me feeling something like guilt. All that hard work I had put in—would it be ruined? And while I knew that scientifically, it takes a solid month without exercise to lose muscle gains; the stillness had me feeling anxious. My gym workouts weren’t solely about my exterior. It affected my mental health, as all exercises do.
“I just need to move” is something I often say when I’m feeling low. I know moving my body will make me feel better.
My sister-in-law told my husband about a chiropractor she had been seeing, and he had worked wonders. This doctor did something called dry needling, sort of like acupuncture, where the quick jap of the needle in the right spot relaxes the injured or tight muscle so it can heal. My husband, who has a shoulder injury, and I decided to give it a try.
During my first consultation, the doctor asked me about my discomfort and how I had been working out. When I rattled off the list of exercises I did on leg days, he shook his head.
“You really shouldn’t be doing any of those things,” he said, explaining why my weighted hip thrusts and deadlifts were hurting my body.
The issue was in my back, which in turn was hurting my hips. After he adjusted me on his special table with all those levers and knobs, he jabbed my back and hips, my neck and shoulders with the needles. Some of my muscles twitched, an unsettling feeling that had me picturing my hamstring as a wriggly fish out of water. Sometimes there was pain. And then sometimes pressure decreased instantly like my muscles breathed a sigh of relief.
I was a little sore after that first appointment, but the pressure in my hips and back had dramatically decreased.
As grateful as I was for the relief, I still wondered how I would accomplish my workouts. On my first day back to the gym, I tried a routine using only the lower body exercises the doctor recommended.
I hated it. I didn’t feel as strong as I usually did. Either from the long break of no gym time or the low weight reps I was doing to ease back into it. But I also felt scattered and all over the place, like the familiarity of my local Planet Fitness, in all its horrendous purple glory, had somehow changed.
While I usually enter the gym with focus and determination (it is also the best way to avoid men from talking to you —always look super busy), now I feel bored and irritated.
I needed a new way to move.
*
In my last post about my novel writing progress, I mentioned how much I’ve been enjoying writing draft 4. I can’t believe how well it’s going, I told Tamar, my writing partner. I’m actually having fun.
But then, I hit the 50k mark.
It's the exact same chapter that sent me into a panic during draft 3.
“What is it about this damn chapter that makes me feel like the novel is falling apart?” I said to Tamar.
I spent two writing sessions moving words around, working on the outline I have on my wall with new sticky notes, and adding plot and emotional points. I paced my apartment and stared at the page with the heavy weight of defeat.
Tamar and I send each other daily video messages on the Marco Polo app. That day, I told her I was scared. That my plot wasn’t delivering. That I’m putting all this effort into the story, and it's not coming together in the way I see it in my mind, or even on my plot planner.
Everything suddenly felt so serious. Like all the dialogue wasn’t profound enough, or the story itself wasn’t meaningful.
I was losing the fun, and I suddenly felt blocked—crippled on the page.
*
I have found yoga again. My mom recently told me about Move with Nicole, a YouTuber she likes who posts Pilates and yoga routines. I hadn’t practiced yoga in years, but when it was part of my life, I really enjoyed it, so I figured a nice 30-minute flow would be a great excuse not to go to the gym. But would that be enough? Would it even count? I had gotten so used to my gym routines that not adhering to them felt like I was shorting myself. Like I wasn’t really working out at all.
I’m aware of how that sounds. I’ve had to work on letting go.
And surprised, surprised, practicing yoga has been exactly what I needed.
Long stretches, heart opening poses, strong planks, and deep breaths. It's the complete opposite of my heavy lifting days, and I can’t help but notice the difference. But feels like a new phase of my life. My body is telling me something, and I’m finally listening.
*
Today, as I write this, I’m a little more optimistic about my draft. Part of that is because I found the tension in this blasted chapter and can now see how it's meant to move forward. But also because I’m in my follicular phase—the most rejuvenating and optimistic of my whole cycle. I’ve spoken about cycles and creativity in this newsletter before. I wrote about the luteal phase, how that affects me each month, and the number it does on my creativity. I actually had a plan to track my cycle for a whole month, noting the ebbs and flows of my creative energy and its effect on my writing life in order to write an essay about it. But it was hard to track. There are so many factors that affect my writing life every day, that are outside of my cycle. Even if I’m follicular and feel juicy with ideas and stamina, with the energy to write and write and write, my work day could be overloaded, and I’m fried at the end of the day. Family, friends, other responsibilities can come up. But I do believe it's important, for me anyway, to honor my body during each phase of my cycle.
When I was venting to Tamar on Polo about how sad I felt about my draft last week, I added, “Oh, and I’m in my luteal phase,” she knows me by now—she knows this means something valid.
Every day is about finding the harmony in the work. Finding out what this story needs. And finding out what my body needs in order to do it. Right now, mine is telling me to take long and deep breaths. To not take everything so painfully seriously. To open my heart. I can’t tell you how beautiful heart opening stretches are for me right now, how good it feels to reach my arms over my head, lengthening my spine. In moments of doubt, I have to remember that heavy lifting does not always bring the best results. That I have always been capable, even when I crave softness, in my writing practice and within my body. Determination is what will get this draft done, in whatever way I can muster it.
The yoga has helped. My apartment doesn’t have a lot of open floor space, so the only area big enough for my mat is in my office. Every time I turn to my right with my arms open and my heart exposed, I face the novel outline I have posted to my wall. I can’t help but read over the sticky notes as I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.
As Nicole leads me through lengthening stretches and invites me to connect deeper with my body, and its movements.
As I’m changing my energy flow, there she is—my novel.
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i love this, feel this 🫶🏻
Determination is much of the battle. You can do it, Kailey!