Photo by Camille Brodard on Unsplash
Whenever I day-dreamed about my upcoming holiday to Italy, I landed on the same image: me, reclining on a lounger by the Adriatic shore, beneath the shade of a parasol, a book in my hands, a warm breeze caressing my skin.
The year before, visiting the same place in Puglia with my husband and our three-year-old, this scene had been a reality. Albeit one experienced in occasional snatched moments, when I’d leave my son and husband and dash to the beach. I’d savour every precious minute of peace, and leave ravenous for more.
This year, my husband and I would be returning without our son. There’d be plenty of opportunities in which to relax on that lounger, reading, or to feel the magnetic pull of eyelids towards cheeks as I slid into a post-lunch nap.
A week before we left, I did something to my lower back: a familiar pain in my sacroiliac joint, clearly a weak spot in my body. I wasn’t too worried. Usually, after a few days, it settles down by itself, or one appointment with an osteopath sorts it. As I knew I’d be travelling, I booked the osteopath. Then, because my back made a seemingly supersonic recovery, I cancelled. But, on the morning of my flight, I woke up to discover the pain had flared. It was bad enough for me to question how I’d manage to travel.
By the time we made it to our hotel in Italy, I was maxed out on Paracetamol, and moving at the pace of a snail. The hardest thing was transitioning from one position to another. All those actions I usually took for granted, such as lowering my feet from my bed to the floor each morning, and seamlessly rising to standing, had to be broken down into a series of very slow, considered – and uncomfortable – moments.
For example, to get out of bed, I now had to roll onto my side, towards the centre of the mattress, push strongly into my hands, to bring myself to kneeling, then crawl backwards to the edge of the bed and lower my feet to the ground, landing in a low squat. From there, I’d inch my way up to standing, where for those first minutes of the day, it felt as if my sacrum could no longer properly support the weight of my spine.
The only position where I was completely pain-free was lying down. So, just as I’d wished for, I spent most of my time on that beachside lounger, devouring some great books – I shared details in this post. And, given getting up from, or finding my way back down onto the sunbed was arduous, it forced me into long stretches where I was physically still. Being anchored in one place was frustrating in some ways – not easy to jump up and order a cappuccino or go for a quick dip in the sea – but also a rare luxury. And when my husband, who’s not a fan of the beach, wanted to go and explore local towns, I could send him off without feeling a shred of guilt I wasn’t joining him.
Luckily, about halfway through our holiday, the pain started to subside. I was, of course, relieved. And while I certainly wouldn’t have chosen the encumbrance of an injury during my one foreign holiday this year, I was also grateful to it for reminding me what a privilege it is to live in a body that usually feels easeful. Something we can too easily forget.
This happened three months ago. I’d almost forgotten about it, until I found some notes, scribbled in my journal while in its throes. So I’ve written these words today to help me - and perhaps you - remember the wonder of having a body able to move freely in the world.
And if you too share this privilege, can you take a moment to slow down and bring your attention to your body: to feel your breath rise and fall, or reach out through an arm or a leg. Or perhaps push your feet into the floor and rise from your seat to standing. And as you do so, can you sense the magic and brilliance of this creation we call body; this home we are given during our time here.
Love,
Annabel x
THINGS I LOVE RIGHT NOW
TO COOK
I’ve been really enjoying chef and writer Hetty Lui McKinnon’s Substack, To Vegetables, With Love. I’ve made both the recipes below on repeat:
These eggplant rolls are delicious and worked really well, even the time I made them without the tomato sauce, as I’d run out of tomatoes.
And I loved this summer lasagne, made with courgettes, corn and ricotta. One time, I did it without the corn, and it was still delicious. As well as very easy to make, as there’s nothing you need to pre-cook.
Such a beautiful reminder thank you Annabel. I went to a yoga workshop today (something I don’t get to do very often these days!), we moved so slowly that it was like moving for the first time in many ways. It was really amazing to bring such awareness and feeling to movements that I take for granted every day...
Thankyou so much! I love reading your insights. This was so apt for me as I'm led in a hospital bed recovering from surgery- phase 2 breast reconstruction from previous breast cancer. Being forced to rest is a rare thing as normally have an endless list of jobs to do. I'm embracing it as a pause in the busyness of life. So grateful I found you! Every-time you write feels a reflection of where I am too.. you write with such beauty and honesty it's truly magic xxx love and respect Leanne