“I Don’t Know How You Do It”: Choosing to Show Up When Life Hurts

“I don’t know how you do it.”

I’ve heard those words more times than I can count.

Usually they’re said with kindness.

Sometimes with admiration.

Sometimes with a little disbelief.

And lately, they’ve landed differently.

Because the truth is…

I don’t always know how I do it either.

My hip journey is not over.

After years of surgeries, rehabilitation, setbacks, pain, and learning how to adapt, I am facing another major surgery.

Another total hip replacement.

Another season of recovery.

Another reminder that sometimes the body doesn’t follow the timeline we desperately want it to follow.

And if I’m being completely honest, there are days when I am tired of being the person who has to be resilient.

You See Me Showing Up

What people often see is the yoga teacher.

The business owner.

The person teaching classes.

The person making videos.

The person working with residents.

The gardener.

The person creating essential oil blends and body products.

The person laughing.

The person making plans.

The person showing up.

And I am all of those things.

But there is another part of the story that isn’t always visible.

There are days when walking hurts.

Days when sitting hurts.

Days when getting comfortable feels like an accomplishment.

Days when I have to calculate how much energy I have and where it needs to go.

Days when I wonder how I am going to keep doing all the things I love while also taking care of a body that keeps asking me to slow down.

There are days when the simplest things require planning.

And there are days when I am simply exhausted from thinking about my body.

That part doesn’t always make it into the picture.

I Don’t Have a Secret

So when someone says, “I don’t know how you do it,” I sometimes want to tell them:

I don’t have a secret.

I don’t wake up every morning feeling strong.

I don’t wake up inspired.

I don’t wake up without pain.

I don’t have some extraordinary ability to ignore what is happening.

What I do have is a choice.

I can choose to show up.

Not perfectly.

Not at 100%.

Not by pretending everything is fine.

But by asking:

What is possible today?

That question has changed everything for me.

Because sometimes what is possible is teaching a class.

Sometimes it’s working on my business.

Sometimes it’s filming a video.

Sometimes it’s taking a walk.

Sometimes it’s gardening.

Sometimes it’s sitting with a cup of coffee and doing absolutely nothing.

And sometimes showing up means admitting that today I can’t do what I wanted to do.

That counts too.

Learning to Navigate Pain

One of the hardest lessons pain has taught me is that there is a difference between giving up and changing the way you move forward.

I used to think resilience meant pushing through.

Now I think resilience is much more nuanced.

Sometimes resilience is pushing forward.

Sometimes it is resting.

Sometimes it is modifying.

Sometimes it is asking for help.

Sometimes it is saying no.

Sometimes it is changing the plan.

And sometimes it is doing the thing you love differently than you imagined you would.

Yoga has taught me this in a way nothing else could.

A pose is not a performance.

A practice is not a test.

And my body is not failing simply because it cannot do something the way it once did.

The practice is learning to listen.

To adapt.

To notice.

To breathe.

To stay present.

And then to make the next choice.

Keeping a Business Going While Navigating Pain

There is another layer to this that doesn’t get talked about much.

Pain doesn’t put your responsibilities on hold.

Bills still exist.

Clients still need you.

Emails still arrive.

Content still needs to be created.

Classes still need to be taught.

A business doesn’t automatically become easier because your body hurts.

And when you’re self-employed, there isn’t always someone else waiting to pick up the pieces.

So I’ve had to learn how to build a business that can bend.

I’ve had to become creative.

I’ve had to learn when I can push and when pushing is going to cost me more than it gives me.

I’ve had to redefine productivity.

I’ve had to accept that some days the most productive thing I can do is recover.

And perhaps most importantly, I’ve had to stop measuring my worth by how much I can accomplish in a day.

Because I am still worthy on the days when my body asks me to do less.

And Then There Is Sanity

Let’s talk about this part too.

Because chronic pain can consume a lot of mental space.

It’s not just the physical sensation.

It’s the appointments.

The decisions.

The wondering.

The waiting.

The planning.

The uncertainty.

The fear of another setback.

The frustration of having to explain something that other people cannot see.

And the constant mental negotiation:

Can I do this?

Will this make things worse?

How much energy will this take?

What happens if I push too far?

That can wear a person down.

So I have had to learn how to protect my mind as carefully as I protect my body.

Yoga helps.

Breathing helps.

Getting outside helps.

Gardening helps.

Creating helps.

Laughing helps.

Connecting with people who don’t need me to pretend I’m okay helps.

And sometimes, simply acknowledging that this is hard helps.

I don’t have to turn every difficult experience into a beautiful lesson immediately.

Sometimes it is just hard.

And I can say that.

Showing Up Doesn’t Mean Pretending

This may be the biggest thing I have learned.

Showing up does not mean pretending I don’t hurt.

It doesn’t mean being positive every minute.

It doesn’t mean turning pain into inspiration for everyone else.

It doesn’t mean pushing myself past my limits so other people can admire my strength.

Showing up means being honest about where I am and then deciding what I can do from there.

Some days that looks strong.

Some days it looks messy.

Some days it looks like teaching yoga.

Some days it looks like canceling something.

Some days it looks like making plans for the future.

Some days it looks like grieving the life or body I thought I would have.

All of it is part of the practice.

So, How Do I Do It?

I don’t know.

Maybe I don’t.

Maybe I simply do the next thing.

I get up.

I breathe.

I listen.

I make a choice.

I do what I can.

I rest when I need to.

I ask for help when I need it.

I laugh when I can.

I cry when I need to.

And then I try again tomorrow.

I am not some extraordinary example of someone who never gives up.

I’m a human being who has learned that sometimes you don’t have to know how you’re going to get through the whole thing.

You just have to know what the next step is.

And right now, my next step is preparing for another surgery while continuing to live my life in the meantime.

I will teach.

I will create.

I will garden.

I will work.

I will rest.

I will adapt.

I will have hard days.

I will have beautiful days.

And I will keep learning how to inhabit this body with compassion instead of constantly fighting against it.

Because perhaps that is what resilience really is.

Not standing tall all the time.

Not being fearless.

Not pretending it doesn’t hurt.

But continuing to participate in your own life, even when it hurts.

One choice at a time.

One breath at a time.

One day at a time.

And if you’ve ever looked at someone and thought, “I don’t know how you do it,” maybe the answer is simpler than you think.

They probably don’t know either.

They’re just choosing to show up.

Today, that’s enough.

Enjoying this content? My book 52 Weeks of Wisdom & Wellness goes deeper — find it here.