The Lighter Side of: Limits

Chronic illness has an inventive way of limiting what we do, or more accurately, how we do things.
Having illness does not necessarily mean that we have to stop doing things that we love. What illness tends to do is force us to prioritize what is more important.
Every person has a limitation of some kind. Perhaps there are financial obligations to be met. There are only 24 hours in a day, and people cannot live for long on zero sleep. Our physical bodies do have limitations, so even the average person must decide what they can do, what they must do, and what they would like to do, and find a balance between those three.
Now, if you add in malfunctions of that physical body, those limitations may be altered. Sometimes, if we are lucky, it will allow us to do things that average people cannot. For the vast majority of situations, though, illness may force us to give up certain activities or to go about them in a different manner.

This is not all bad.
Learning that you can still enjoy what you love even if you have to go about it differently is a true eye-opener. Suddenly the world seems to have fewer limits.
Limitations encourage us to prioritize, to really take stock of our lives and decide what we want to be doing.
It also forces us to come to terms with real-life consequences.

When I was playing volleyball competitively, after every single tournament, I would wind up in the ER and sometimes even admitted to the hospital for a couple of days. I would have significant bleeding in my intestines, severe dehydration, drastic weight loss, and I would require additional nutrition and fluids pumped into my veins.
For me, volleyball was worth every bad flare and every awful episode.

After developing Ankylosing Spondylitis, however, when I tried playing volleyball, that ended up being the only thing I could do. My joints would grind together and cause excruciating pain, pain that even I could not ignore. Suddenly I could not jump serve or even overhand serve. My spiking was limited - I could no longer jump as high and my shoulder blades would be on fire.
What did this do?
This forced me to change my position. After years and YEARS of playing Middle or Power positions, I had to learn how to be a setter. I had previously thought this was absolutely unattainable.
As it turns out, I was a decent setter!
I wasn't amazing, but I could manage basic sets, as well as some 3
51s, 33s, shoot sets, and even some 75s, 71s, and the odd 31. That was more than I ever thought was possible with my setting skills. I learned how to pass better as well and became more confident in my entire game, instead of primarily spiking and serving.
Unfortunately, several months after that, the pain became too unbearable to even manage that. The running, diving, and the pressure on my SI joint and hips were far too great to justify the sport.

My softball performances had a similar trajectory. After years of playing the bases or even shortstop on occasion, and sometimes field, I could not longer play those positions. Even running the bases became too painful. My body was losing muscle, and quickly. I was becoming weaker and my joints were becoming stiffer. So what did I do? I played back-catch and we had a runner for me a lot of the time. Of course, that too came to an end, but for the time I played back-catch I really enjoyed myself!! I was always comfortable on the field, never scared of the ball, which made that position even more fun! I proceeded to wear cute little pink outfits and intentionally look like a guest back-catch that was just there to fill a spot, and then play my little heart out. Batting was still something I could do, I just could no longer run. I was on a more competitive recreational team, and requiring a runner was too much hassle, so I left softball. But I know I can still hit. I know I can still catch. One day I may join a fully recreational/beer-league team just to get back out there.

I, instead, turned to other activities.
Rather than putting all of my energy into one activity I cannot even give 100% at anymore, I decided to spread my interests around several things.
I always felt limited artistically to music.... but it turns out that I was able to learn. I have learned how to draw and paint simple projects, and I learn more and more each and every day.

I grew up believing I had many limitations.
Now I know that my limitations rest in my body, and that even then, if I really put my mind to it, I can do so much more than it feels. It is all a matter of sacrifice and risk.
There are certain things I am willing to risk for my health, but so many others that I cannot risk my health to do.
I do have to be more careful in general. I do have to watch the amount of pressure I put on my joints and the amount of risk I take with my physical health. What used to take me a few days to recover now takes weeks or months. An injury now takes months or even an entire year to recover from. I have had to make really tough decisions on what is worth the risk. These days, resting in bed and practicing yoga are the two main components of my life. I can spend one day every few weeks doing something more active or leaving the house for a date or a night with friends. After a day like that, it takes me weeks to recuperate. So I have to choose my activities wisely. If I over-do it, it is not just a matter of 'sleeping it off'. It is about more injections, trips to the emergency room, increases in medication, and flare-ups of multiple conditions that have me writhing in pain 24 hours a day.  Risking those consequences for a simple game is no longer a priority. If I am going to have a major fall-out like that, it has to be something I truly enjoy.

The Lighter Side of limits is that whenever there is another limitation thrown my way, another limitation has lifted in some fashion.

I find it so intriguing how many limitations we place upon ourselves that are a figment of our imaginations - like not being good at something. We need to remember that we are able to learn. Illness has taught me, above anything else, that our bodies and minds are adaptable, changeable, and able to be conditioned.
So when your body says "no", look in another direction.

My body may not allow me to run or even walk very far, but that is what we have tools like canes and wheelchairs for! My body may not allow me to be awake very long each day, but that is when I can take advantage of the days I feel a little bit better. My body may not allow me to play team sports anymore, but that is what yoga, swimming, and even obstacle courses are for. I do not have to be 'good' at everything, but I am willing to try anything to see what my new limitations are, because those are ever-changing.