10 Powerful Lessons I Learned from Healing My Back Injury

Sometimes, when we're not ready to change, the universe steps in and gives us no other choice.

It doesn’t ask for permission, it doesn’t check if the timing is right.

It simply disrupts everything.

For me, that disruption came in the form of a back injury. Painful, inconvenient, and at first incredibly frustrating, my injury turned out to be one of the most powerful teachers I've ever had.

Before the injury, I lived in a constant state of overdrive. I pushed my body through intense training, poured myself into work, and silently carried emotional burdens that had been building for years. My sense of self-worth was tied to my achievements—and the pressure to always succeed left little room for imperfection. When things didn’t go as planned or I struggled to grasp something straight away, I defaulted to self-criticism and shame. I blamed circumstances, other people—but most of all, myself.

I kept myself busy, using achievement and constant doing to avoid facing the things I didn’t want to feel—disappointment, fear, not feeling good enough. Productivity became my armour, and as long as I was doing, I thought I was okay. But I didn’t realise that those habits and thought patterns—though familiar—were quietly draining me and keeping me stuck. I was trapped in old loops, repeating behaviours that felt safe but were slowly wearing me down. It wasn’t until I was forced to stop that I could finally see how much I had been running from myself.

My body, however, was keeping score of everything I had neglected. And it made its voice heard through the injury. It forced me to stop. To truly stop. In that stillness, I began to feel what I had long avoided. It wasn’t just the physical pain—it was the accumulation of years of tension, pressure, self-neglect, and emotional weight I had carried for too long. I thought I could fix it quickly, like I had done with other things in life—book appointments, read obsessively, try every technique. But my body had different plans. It gently, but persistently, asked me to slow down. To listen. The body always keeps score, and eventually, it spoke loud enough that I had no choice but to listen.

I realised that healing wasn’t something I could achieve by force. It required surrender. It required becoming present. It required me to meet myself—not just my pain, but also my truth.

Here are the layered, life-changing lessons I learnt on this journey:

1. Healing Begins with Acceptance

When I first injured my back, I fought against the reality of it. I wanted to return to what I once was, but healing couldn’t start until I accepted my current state. Acceptance didn’t mean giving up—it meant acknowledging where I was and letting go of the pressure to heal on my terms.

I used to be scared of emotions—especially the uncomfortable ones. But healing meant feeling. Letting myself cry. Letting myself be angry. Letting myself grieve. Emotions are not the enemy; suppression is. Feeling them allowed them to move through me, rather than stay stuck in my body.

Pain, both physical and emotional, is a signal. It's not something to silence but something to understand. My back pain had a message: Slow down. Come back to yourself. Reassess your life.

And once I started listening, the message softened.

2. Rest Is Not Laziness—It’s Medicine, and Less Really Is More

Rest is how we repair, recalibrate, and reconnect. It’s not weak—it’s wise. We glorify being busy, but what if rest is actually the most productive thing we can do for our nervous system, our body, and our soul?

As Banksy beautifully put it, "If you get tired, learn to rest, not to quit." That quote hit me deeply. I wasn’t meant to give up—I was meant to pause. Rest allowed my body and mind to reset. Rest reminded me that stillness is sacred. And, beyond the physical benefits, rest nurtures our emotional well-being too. It provides space to process, reflect, and restore balance disrupted by the constant demand of doing.

It’s not just about taking time to rest; it’s about creating the conditions for true healing—mentally, emotionally, and physically. Less is often more. Overloading myself only made things worse. I learned to start gently. A few minutes of gentle yoga to feel connected. Light walks instead of chasing steps. A pause to notice how my body felt before deciding what it needed. Healing didn’t demand more effort—it asked for more awareness.

Introducing things gradually keeps you from ending up back at square one.

3. Your Worth Is Not Tied to What You Do, and Your Body Holds the Truth

I realised that I am enough, even when I’m not productive. Even when I’m resting. My value doesn’t come from achievements—it comes from presence, compassion, and how I show up for myself and others. We are often taught to measure our worth by external achievements, but true value comes from the kindness and compassion we show to ourselves and others.

I stopped outsourcing my healing. I started tuning into my own body. It always knew what felt good, what felt safe, what felt wrong. I just hadn’t been listening.

Now I treat my body’s signals as sacred wisdom.

4. Healing Is Not Linear

Some days I felt more capable, and other days I was frustrated that I couldn’t do what I used to do. I resisted accepting the version of me that had physical limitations. And that resistance often led to physical discomfort. But once I allowed the process to unfold—without needing it to be fast or perfect—I began to feel more peace.

Healing became less about trying to return to what I once was, and more about embracing where I was, moving forward with patience, understanding, and curiosity.

5. You Are Your Own Safe Place

No practitioner, no technique, no supplement could replace the relationship I was building with myself. I became my own soft landing. My own safe home. I started choosing thoughts that felt like kindness. Words that felt like safety. The more I leaned into self-compassion, the more I realised that I had everything I needed within me to heal.

6. Movement Is Medicine, but It Doesn’t Have to Be Intense—Sustainable Over Speed

Movement doesn’t always mean sweat. It means circulation. Breath. Flow. Ten squats. A walk after dinner. Stretching while watching your favourite show. These small things add up—they nourish. Movement became my tool for healing, not punishment.

I used to rush everything—rehab included. But I learned that going slower often gets you further. Introducing things gradually—whether it’s exercises, work, or habits—keeps you from ending up back at day one. Sustainable change is built over time, not in a sprint.

7. Being a Beginner Is a Gift

There’s beauty in starting over. In approaching life with curiosity rather than ego. I began asking questions again. Learning. Exploring. When you're a beginner, everything is a possibility. I had to remind myself that being a beginner is not a setback but a chance to rebuild and reframe what I wanted from life.

8. Visualise Your Older Self and Work Backwards

I started thinking about the 60-year-old version of me. What kind of life would support her? What habits would keep her healthy, vibrant, mobile? That long view helped me make more loving choices now. I realised that what I do today will shape who I become tomorrow.

9. Being in the Body Is Being in the Present

Coming back to my body brought me back to the now. I used to live in the past or the future. But when I dropped into my body—into breath, into sensation—I found a stillness that felt like home.

10. Trial and Error Is Sacred

I stopped looking for one-size-fits-all solutions. Instead, I experimented. I tried new movements, breathwork, routines. I reflected. I adjusted. Healing isn’t a formula—it’s a relationship with yourself.

A New Beginning

My back injury slowed me down, stripped me back, and ultimately saved me. It taught me presence, patience, self-kindness, and how to live in a way that honours both my body and soul. I no longer seek to return to who I was—I’m building someone new, someone softer, stronger, wiser.

So if you’re hurting, if you’re in a season of stillness or struggle, know this: You’re not broken. You’re becoming whole again. Let the journey unfold. Let it change you.

Sometimes the body breaks so the spirit can awaken.

You’re not falling apart. You’re finally coming home.

Reference

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University of California, 2024. New Study Explores the Transformative Power of Deep Rest. [online] Available at: https://psychiatry.ucsf.edu/news/new-study-explores-transformative-power-deep-rest [Accessed 22 April 2025].

Psychology Today, 2024. The Science of Deep Rest: A Gateway to Sustained Wellness. [online] Available at: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-compassionate-brain/202404/the-science-of-deep-rest-a-gateway-to-sustained-wellness [Accessed 22 April 2025].

Gatchel, R.J., Peng, Y.B., Peters, M.L., Fuchs, P.N. and Turk, D.C., 2007. The biopsychosocial approach to chronic pain: scientific advances and future directions. Psychological Bulletin, 133(4), pp.581–624.