It’s midnight, and Daddy is worn out. For four-and-a-half hours this evening I worked at a friend’s house moving boxes of all shapes and sizes from one room to another–because the first room is about to be painted. And whereas moving boxes wasn’t terribly awful, it was challenging because the first room was upstairs and the second room was downstairs–and my friend doesn’t have an elevator. This means me and my bum knee had to work, work, work. Not so much going upstairs–that part I’m getting pretty good at. But going downstairs I still have to walk like a flower girl in a wedding ceremony–step, together, step, together.

This. Takes. Forever.

I kept telling myself this taking-forever was good, that it was causing me to slow down and not rush, rush, rush. And yet the part of me that REALLY wanted to be done (just because it likes being done) kept pushing. And sure, we got it done. That room is empty, ready to be painted. But my hips and shoulders (a yoga friend of mine used to call them “ships and holders”) are anything but thrilled. That is, they hurt.

But don’t worry about me. I’m drinking a beer.

This afternoon I had a dance lesson with a couple who’s getting married. They’re working on a routine for their wedding, and like my box-moving project tonight was, it’s slow going. (And God have we got a long way to go.) Now, granted, today was only their second lesson. If you saw what they knew before they started (uh, nothing) and saw what they know now, it would be clear–they’re headed in the right direction. Will they get “there”? I don’t know. I’ve had plenty of couples drop out over the years. But this couple seems determined, and when someone is determined, watch out.

When someone is determined AND practices, well, watch out even more.

Lately I’ve been reading a book called Trauma and the Unbound Body by Judith Blackstone. I’ve mentioned some of Blackstone’s theories before, like the idea that our bodies will often constrict (or tense up) in response to trauma or stress. Last night I read that when we feel tension in our bodies, it can feel like it’s been done to us, but that ultimately we’re the ones that have done it to ourselves. When I first read this statement, I bristled because I’m tight all over, and who wants to take responsibility for that? But the idea is that our bodies tense up in order to protect us from a perceived threat. They’re trying to help. And here’s the good news–if WE initiated the tension in our bodies, we can initiate the release of tension in our bodies.

Several schools of thought, including Blackstone’s, call this release “unwinding.”

Just last night I got to the exercise in Blackstone’s book about unwinding. All the previous exercises have been, for lack of a better way to describe them, about entering a meditative state. Better said, they’ve been about fully entering your own body and centering yourself, the thought being that before you go about releasing tension in your body, tension that’s probably tied to a lot of emotion (because traumatic events are emotional), you need to be steady and you need to be able to “hold space” for whatever comes up.

All this being said, last night I worked with the exercise to release tension, and it actually worked. Like, not all at once or everywhere at once, but a little bit here, a little bit there, in pieces. The book said it would be like this, slow. Mostly I concentrated on my neck and right shoulder, which has been giving me fits for months now. And whereas I didn’t have a huge emotional response, I did have a lot of memories come up from when I was a child–falling off a four-wheeler, getting hit by a baseball in my face, even being spanked. These instances when I would have obviously braced myself gave me a lot of compassion for WHY my body might still carry tension in it.

I can really identify with the idea of bracing. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even tonight while I was moving boxes and noticing my hips and shoulders were starting to tighten, my natural tendency was to push through. To toughen up. To grit and get the job done. But I’m not a machine, and I can’t continue to treat my body like one. Indeed, since I’ve gotten home this evening, I’ve gone back to the exercise I learned last night (which includes intently focusing on your pain or tension), and it’s clear to me that my body is very much alive and full of wisdom (because it response to both stress and the invitation to relax).

When learning something new like this, I always want immediate results. But healing, usually, takes times. Tonight I thought, If my body relaxes just three percent, that’s three percent! So, like my dance students, it’s just a matter of being determined and practicing. Sticking with something that works for you. Going as slow as you need to. Step, together, step together. Trusting that one step at at time is enough to get you to where you want to be.