Backed Into Slowness

When Pain Pushes Us Toward Self-Care

This blog is a bit more personal—because lately, chronic lower back pain has become an unavoidable part of my life. The kind of pain that humbles you, slows you down, and insists you pay attention to your body, whether you’re ready or not.

As therapists, we’re often the ones reminding others to breathe, stretch, rest, and set boundaries. But when it comes to ourselves? Sometimes we need a wake-up call—mine just happened to come in the form of a strained back and a very stubborn sock that refused to cooperate.

The Slow Descent into Stillness

There’s something about struggling to put on a sock for 10 minutes that shifts your perspective. Suddenly, daily walks are out of the question, and sitting for too long becomes its own kind of endurance test. I found myself adjusting to a new, slower rhythm—one that I didn’t choose, but maybe needed.

It turns out, forced rest can be revealing. The heating pad became my constant companion. Epsom salt baths turned into small rituals of care. Stretching, which used to be a suggestion I gave clients, became something sacred. And somewhere in the midst of all that stillness, I noticed my inner dialogue soften. I stopped pushing. I started listening. I began speaking to myself with kindness.

Why Do We Wait?

It struck me—why did it take a physical injury to activate the self-care tools I already knew were important? Why do we wait for our bodies to scream before we allow ourselves rest, gentleness, and permission to slow down?

It wasn’t just about the pain. It was about how quickly I had abandoned myself in the name of productivity. And how healing it felt to return—with care, compassion, and a little bit of grace.

When the Therapist Needs Healing Too

For those of us who support others for a living, chronic pain—or emotional overwhelm—can feel like a betrayal of the role we’re supposed to play. But here’s the truth: we’re not exempt from needing care ourselves. Whether you’re a therapist with chronic pain, a caregiver with fatigue, or simply a human in a high-demand world, your well-being matters just as much as those you serve.

Three Things That Helped Me Come Back to Myself

1. Turning routines into rituals
   Stretching, rest, and Epsom salt baths weren’t just tasks—they became intentional moments of slowing down. When we bring presence to even the smallest acts, they become meaningful.

2. Reframing self-talk
   I started noticing when my inner voice was harsh and choosing instead to speak to myself the way I would a dear friend. That shift in tone matters—it creates space for healing.

3. Making care non-negotiable
   Instead of saving rest for when I was in pain, I started building it into my week. Preventive care isn't indulgent—it's essential.
   
   

A Gentle Invitation

What are your "injuries"? What in your life is asking you to slow down, tend, or listen more closely?

Let’s not wait for the next injury or burnout cycle to remind us to show up for ourselves. Instead, let’s normalize rest. Let’s turn toward ourselves with the same compassion we offer others. Let’s build lives where care is consistent, not just crisis-driven.

Because the truth is: we don’t need a superhero to save the day. We can become our own.