Six years ago, I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis – although I’d been living with its effects for longer than that. Some mornings, especially in the colder months, it can take up to an hour just to get moving. Simple tasks like holding objects, opening jars, or even brushing my hair can be painful.
But here’s the thing: I keep moving. Yoga has become one of the most important tools I have to manage the pain, physically and mentally. It helps keep my joints functioning and my spirits lifted. On the bad days – and there are bad days – it’s my anchor.
Of course, I’ve had to adapt my practice. I move slightly differently, I adjust poses, and I make space for what my body needs. And you know what? No one notices. Or more importantly – no one cares. And that’s a beautiful thing.
In a yoga class, we all come as we are. We don’t have to move the same way or look the same as the person on the next mat. We all breathe, move, and show up in our own way. If something doesn’t feel right, you change it. It’s really that simple.
Just because one part of your body isn’t working as it used to doesn’t mean the rest of you is broken. You still have a whole self – body, mind, and spirit – to work with.
A brilliant woman I know, my client Daphne, puts it like this: “You open the fridge and see what food you have. You might not be able to make a spaghetti Bolognese, but you can make a chilli.”
Daphne was born a thalidomide baby and has no arms. Yet she swims, cycles, and practices yoga. She’s unstoppable, not because her path is easy, but because she looks at what she can do, not what she can’t.
We can all take something from that. Don’t let an injury, a disability, or a diagnosis stop you. Let it teach you how to move differently, live differently – not less.
Adaptation isn’t failure. It’s courage. It’s wisdom. It’s how we keep going.