Rebuilding in Softness

I’ve been struggling with left knee injuries and recently got an MRI, and I did what any investigative Virgo-minded person would do: I went down the radiology rabbit hole and spent hours researching knee anatomy, studying MRIs, comparing healthy knees to various injuries, and then comparing mine to everything I found online.

I wasn’t trying to diagnose myself, but we can say curiosity and impatience won while I sat impatiently waiting for my radiology report and follow-up appointment.

Eager for answers, I did a little self-check at home and quickly found out that my knee had, in fact, forgotten what a healthy range of motion was. It won’t fully straighten. It refuses to bend past 90 degrees.

Whatever my diagnosis ends up being, I’m very aware that I’m in a rebuilding phase. It’s time to stop revving the engine and shift from high-impact intensity into low-impact flow, which, if I’m honest, my body has been screaming at me to do for over a year.

It started with an inflamed hip, during which an MRI accidentally revealed a herniated lower back disc that had already been hurting for quite some time. Then came the initial knee injury: the full dramatic package of popping, locking, and swelling during a hike. Then it happened again a few months later. All of this within 14 months.

Mentally, I haven’t been doing particularly well. My 27-year-old body is behaving in ways I never expected it to. But recently, I had a perspective shift: the sooner I find these things out, the sooner I can make the necessary changes, rebuild, and come back stronger. The sooner I listen, the better my chances of creating a healthier life long-term.

Listening, surrendering, and accepting that my body is not what my mind wanted it to be also feels like a deeper lesson for me. The mind surrendering control. In some ways, it follows the same principle often tied to the idea of ego death.

Did life really need to force me into surrender this way? Highly offensive to my ego. Could’ve just sent an email. Apparently, that’s not how this works.

These mobility injuries have been life-changing, not just physically, but in what they’ve taught me about surrendering, releasing control, trusting myself, trusting my healing, and learning how to let go.

Letting go of sports I wanted to improve in. Letting go of dreams I had attached to certain physical goals. And opening myself to finding alternatives that are more aligned with how my body is actually built.

And not to mention learning compassion, both for my own struggles and for the life journeys of others.

I looked at my body with awareness recently and really noticed how my joints are built. They seem delicate. Small. Almost fragile. They ask for softness, not intensity.

And when I applied that realization to my love life, something clicked.

I had been asking for softness, empathy, and compassion, yet I kept receiving intensity, pain, and endless lessons instead.

In some strange way, the way I had been treating my own body mirrored how I had been allowing myself to be treated in love.

I have endurance. I have a high threshold for discomfort that allows me to push through both physical and emotional pain. I stayed in situations that were clearly hurting me longer than I should have.

I was a 200-meter butterflier, and if you know anything about competitive swimming, you know that event teaches endurance, pain tolerance, discipline, and mental toughness. It made me resilient.

But not always in ways that served me.

I suffered overuse injuries in my teens, and later I suffered emotional injuries in my relationships because I didn’t know when to stop pushing.

You don’t give up in the middle of a race because you’re exhausted. You push through.

My mistake was applying that same principle to love.

Now, I choose a softer, slower life. One built on compassion, pleasure, self-love, acceptance, and surrender.

When we look at our lives with awareness, we can often begin to see how everything connects.

And if we allow ourselves to change slowly, step by step, with baby steps, and with a little more compassion when our minds tell us we’ve failed, I really believe we can rewire the ways we were once programmed.