Wisdom from the Trenches

Years ago, I horribly injured my foot hiking a local trail. This was a hike I had hiked countless times without issue. And yet, I headed up that slope without stretching and came home barely able to walk. If I had any commonsense, I would have gone to a doctor and taken appropriate measures to heal. But I was due to hike into a gorgeous portion of the Grand Canyon just three weeks later. Like a total fool, I avoided the doctor because I did not want to be told to delay the hike. I babied my foot, rested, took pain pills, iced. I did all that I could in home remedies to prepare myself for an extremely difficult hike in my near future, which meant that I couldn’t exercise to keep myself physically fit. My left foot began to heal. Then I headed into that canyon…

In three days, I hiked over 30 miles. I gained, and lost, thousands of feet in elevation. To say that I suffered is an understatement. By the end, my foot was utterly destroyed. To this day, I consider that hike totally worth every step. But was it? I sacrificed my body for the joy and pleasure I experienced seeing turquoise waterfalls and surreal canyon views. I always describe to people how wonderful everything was when I hiked to Havasu Falls, almost always leaving out how absolutely devastating this trip was to my health and well-being. When I talk about this trip, I wax poetic about the beautiful cascading turquoise waterfalls, the blue skies, the red rock backdrop. I conveniently leave out the price I ultimately paid to see all of this.

After returning home, I stubbornly refused to see the doctor. Barely able to walk, I was stuck most often in my house. The inactivity wreaked havoc on my body: I gained some weight. I lost my strength. My lungs were not as efficient. I went into a depression. I gained more weight. It took more than one year of hobbling around, icing, resting, and massaging before my foot had healed enough to hike once again. And then one day, when I was probably upset about something, I headed straight for the very trail that destroyed my foot in the first place. I do not claim to be a smart woman.

I huffed and puffed up that hillside. I rested often, my lungs screaming for mercy. My legs were Jell-O. My head throbbed. It was painfully obvious (literally) that I was not physically fit enough to be back on that difficult trail. In the midst of this, I heard the voice of God speak to me, “You will make it to the top of this mountain from sheer willpower, but you will struggle.” As my heart pounded in my ears, it beat His message through my thick skull and into my mind.

I would love to tell you that I learned my lesson that day on the mountain, but that would be a lie. I struggled to the top and made it, just as God said I would, before limping home and collapsing on the sofa. One week later, I was out tackling another difficult hike. I was a firm believer of mind over matter – sheer willpower had gotten me to the top before and my strong mind could do it again. While it’s fantastic that I have a brain strong enough to press through difficulties to reach a goal, I have learned over time that I do not actually have a smart brain if it is willing to completely ignore obvious signs of duress and sacrifice my health to achieve something.

Before I knew it, I was finally in a doctor’s office…unable to walk. The doctor was appalled! Why hadn’t I come to him sooner? Wasn’t I in pain? Giggling a little, I recited a phrase I had beaten into me while I was in the military, “Pain is just weakness leaving the body.” He looked at me in horror and then educated me that pain is not a weakness. Pain is a sign that something isn’t right – that my body isn’t adequately prepared for the challenge set before me. Do I watch out for signs when I drive so that I don’t get in a car accident? Why am I not paying attention to signs and signals my body sends me to avoid injury?

On a superficial level, self-discipline can keep me looking my very best, when properly incorporated in my life. On a deeper level, self-discipline builds my resiliency and mental fortitude for the earthly tasks set before me. It is the character trait that pushes me to do the very thing that is annoying, uncomfortable, or slightly unpleasant. It teaches me that it is entirely possible to gain mastery over my thoughts, press on toward a goal, and travel purposely through difficulties. It trains me to persevere through difficult times for personal betterment, to focus on taking present steps for future development, to use resources available to me to shape my body, heart, and mind.

At least, this is what I am learning. But back then, I was using self-discipline as an excuse to blow past red flags and warning signs. I was using self-discipline to force myself to do things I was in no condition to actually do. I was using self-discipline to prove to myself that I wasn’t weak in moments where I felt powerless in life. Or maybe I wasn’t using self-discipline at all. While there are bits of truth in all of the above, there was one thing that I completely overlooked: Self-discipline is consistent action and should be practiced regularly to build up, not infrequently to tear down. Self-discipline exists to bring my actions in line with my goals, values, and beliefs. If I want to climb a mountain (which is a lofty goal), I need to work up to that goal and that is where self-discipline comes in.

But I did not work out to prepare myself for a return to hiking, so climbing a mountain was a strenuous activity and, the times that I struggled to push through, I risked re-injury with every step. My brokenness after each hike was evidence of a much deeper issue: I lacked appropriate self-discipline and was instead using “self-discipline” as punishment. I was moving forward in life through sheer willpower and bull-headedness, but because I didn’t regularly invest in my growth and development to build strength, I was instead using my determination to hurt myself and I was struggling to thrive. In all areas of my life – not just in hiking – I was barely limping along because I was always using self-discipline as punishment for perceived weakness.

Part of self-discipline requires that I also learn to listen – to experts, to others, to my own body and that I choose activity levels that correspond with what I need in that moment. Health in my body, mind, and soul only comes if I’m willing to listen to the truth about my reality, warning signs being thrown my way, and the conditions surrounding me…and I must respond accordingly. I can stubbornly push through to lay hands on what I want, but if that is far too difficult of a task in the moment, I will receive ample warnings as I pursue it and I will pay dearly in various ways if I foolishly persist. Not everything in life is about achieving, accomplishing, striving and reaching. The most wisdom lies in knowing our limits, being aware of circumstances surrounding us, and following sound advice. Self-discipline isn’t always about barreling forward when life is painful. Self-discipline is progress toward a singular goal by taking steps that are realistic to take on a regular basis…and sometimes, those steps include rest days, setting more realistic goals, choosing easier tasks, or turning around when the body says continuing would delay achieving the goal.

How does this apply to mental health? In my life, there is a chemical imbalance that causes chronic depression. That is my baseline existence, but sometimes, I sink lower into depression. It is often at those times that I foolishly choose to pack so much into my schedule that it overwhelms and mentally cripples me. I compensate for my feelings of powerlessness by heaping responsibility upon myself to prove that I am strong, I am capable, I am NOT WEAK. Mind over matter, right? If I can just push through THIS and THIS and THIS and THIS with the power of sheer determination, I can “cure” myself of this ridiculous weakness I feel. You see, I don’t just set my mind to push through normal days…I add on monumental tasks that would be difficult to accomplish even on my best days and then, like an Army drill sergeant, I berate myself for not being strong enough to do it all. Being vulnerable or even just human is scary, so I abuse myself for needing self care, a break, or simply a moment to breathe by incorrectly applying self-discipline. I punish myself. I cause further injury when all I needed to do was listen, rest, and heal before moving on to the next thing in life.

Maybe I’m alone in this. Maybe this isn’t something others do. But if you’re anything like me, allow me to pass on what I have learned the hard way: Pain is not weakness leaving the body. Mind over matter is not an excuse to abuse myself. Self-discipline is not supposed to be punishment. Stay wise in your choices out there and when you face more difficult days, be kind to yourself. Rest. Cry. Journal. Breathe. Eat a snack and drink some water. Shower. Listen to those red flags. Take it back to the basics on hard days so that you don’t inflict harm on yourself during a more difficult season.