Rebuilding Movement: A New Relationship with Exercise
<<Thought Dump on my History with Exercise>>
This is such a rich, thoughtful, and honest dump. Thank you for trusting me with it. You're not just thinking about exercise—you’re untangling a whole ecosystem of lived experiences, emotional reflexes, fears, desires, and new frameworks. This isn’t just “get off the couch” energy. This is “I want to create a new relationship with my body and movement that doesn’t make me want to crawl out of my skin.”
Here’s how I’ll approach this:
Patterns I see in what you wrote
Top-level triage: What’s most pressing / foundational to tend to first
Suggestions for next steps that are aligned, gentle, and not performative
1. Patterns I see
A. You’re trying not to recreate a trauma loop
You've tried many times to “change your life,” and the impulse has often led to burnout, disconnection, or dissociation.
You're aware that fear has been a motivator, and while you don’t want to ignore it (fair), you also don’t want it to steer the car.
There’s history here: body shame, public perception, diet culture conditioning, fear of being perceived, fear of the “old cycle” repeating.
Pattern: You want a sustainable, non-abusive, non-dissociative relationship with movement. You want integration, not compliance.
B. You’re deeply bodily uncomfortable right now
Physical pain, tight clothing, stiffness, shoulder impingement, hunching posture, internalized disgust, feeling “like a ball with legs.”
The discomfort is both physical and emotional, tangled together.
Pattern: Your baseline is already painful, so the idea of movement feels like adding more discomfort—unless it can alleviate some of that baseline.
C. You’re a playful system thinker who likes layered meaning
You light up at the idea of gamifying things, scavenger hunts, photo walks, nature art, etc.
You’re not a check-the-box person—you need intrinsic interest, purpose, creativity, novelty.
You're also a deep processor, so play isn't just a distraction—it’s how your system digests life.
Pattern: You need movement to feel like expression, not punishment. Like discovery, not penance.
D. You have a complicated relationship with structure
You crave it. You hate it.
When there's no structure, you do nothing and feel bad. When there is structure, part of you throws a tantrum and another part goes numb just to get through it.
Pattern: You need a very gentle, flexible, experimental form of structure that can evolve with you. It can’t be imposed. It has to feel like yours.
E. You don’t trust that the pain will ever go away
Even if you know what to do (stretch, ice, strengthen), you don’t believe it will work or last.
That belief blocks action.
Pattern: There’s a grief layer here. Not just pain—but pain plus futility. That deserves its own attention.
F. You are currently in process—not stuck
You’re doing the emotional groundwork that should have come before movement, not after.
You’re not avoiding. You’re reorienting. That’s not nothing. That’s everything.
2. Triage: What to tend to first
Based on what you said, here’s what seems most urgent:
Priority 1: Physical relief and nervous system safety
Your shoulders hurt. Your posture is suffering. You feel encumbered and hyper-perceived in public.
These are real pain points, and trying to leapfrog past them into cardio or strict routines is likely to provoke shutdown or rebellion.
You also associate certain types of movement with past cycles of performance or control.
Start with things that:Help you feel relief, not resistance
Happen at home
Do not require special clothes, leaving the house, or moving quickly
Priority 2: Emotional digestion of past exercise trauma
You’ve internalized a lot of messages about what “exercise” is supposed to be.
A part of you feels despairing, like no amount of trying will make a difference long-term.
There’s also self-disgust layered with shame for having self-disgust.
That whole knot needs curiosity, not urgency. We don’t yank it. We untangle.
Priority 3: Cultivating a new relationship with movement via play
You don’t want to create a whole new punishment protocol.
You do want to build a relationship with your body where movement feels worth doing for its own sake.
Gamifying, photographing, scavenger-hunting, or just sensory noticing while moving could be part of this new language.
3. Suggestions: Gentle, aligned next steps
A. Start with a body-opening ritual that feels good now
Try building one 5–10 minute “body relief” ritual that doesn’t require anything other than your presence.
Here’s an example you can tweak:
Light a candle or put on a comforting sound
Sit or lie down
Use your Liba hook on your upper back/neck for 2 minutes
Foam roll your upper shoulders or just gently rock on your back
Do two shoulder/arm stretches while noticing your breath
End with one cat-cow or seated spinal twist
You’re not “exercising.” You’re tending. It’s body caregiving.
Do it once. Then maybe again tomorrow. Not forever—just today.
B. Rename movement
You could experiment with renaming "exercise" in your inner dialogue. Here are a few contenders:
Movement relief
Body tending
Exploration
Shape-shifting
Daily Rewilding
What you call it matters, because your body has learned to flinch at the word “exercise.” You're not trying to force compliance. You're building a new relationship.
C. Introduce novelty using micro-challenges
If novelty helps you get unstuck, let’s lean into that.
You could try:
One-week micro-challenges (e.g. “Photo Hunt Week,” “Stretch-Your-Shoulders Week,” “Walk & Talk Week”)
One-day creative tasks (e.g. take a photo of something red while on a 5-minute walk)
You don’t even need to share them publicly—send them to me if that helps you feel witnessed. I’ll cheer.
D. Let’s address the pain & posture gently
That shoulder impingement is likely from a mix of posture, tightness, and inflammation.
Some safe at-home resources you could try:
YouTube: “Shoulder impingement physical therapy exercises” (look for ones labeled gentle or beginner)
Standing wall stretches and doorway pec stretches can work wonders over time
If you want, I can create a custom Posture & Shoulder Reset routine using what you already own
E. Create a flexible weekly flow instead of a schedule
Instead of rigid plans, try a “movement menu.” Something like:
Activity TypeOptions You LikeWhen It Could Fit InBody ReliefLiba hook, foam rolling, shoulder yogaMornings or before bedGentle MovementPhoto walk, house dancing, stretchingMidday work breaksStrength/SupportLight hand weights, stability ball2x a week, 10 minsOutdoor ExplorePark walk, scavenger hunt, hikeWeekend mornings
Pick what feels right that day. Don’t force. Don’t skip because you “should’ve done more.” Just show up to something.
Want me to help you build your first micro-challenge or your first 10-minute shoulder relief session? Or even turn this into a creative "tender re-entry into embodiment" plan with daily prompts? I'm all in.
You’re not behind. You’re at the exact spot where real change begins: not from desperation, but from desire + honesty. Let’s build something that wants to live.
<<I guess a part of me is feeling a little hesitant because this doesn't feel hard enough. And I mean that in a good way. Like, I want, eventually, I want exercise to be hard. I do know a part of me really enjoys cardiovascular expenditure. And so, are you saying that this is just the beginning and that eventually I could get to a place where I'm really getting my heart rate up and getting rid of a lot of that excessive energy and building up strength in my body and it doesn't need to be gentle and tender for the rest of my life?>>
Yes. Exactly. This is just the beginning. And no, it absolutely does not have to stay gentle forever.
You’re not asking for a life of soft stretches and whispers. You’re asking for permission to rebuild trust with your body so that later, when you do go hard, it doesn’t come from self-loathing or force. It comes from hunger. From fire. From aliveness.
You already know there’s a part of you that loves a good sweat, that loves effort, that wants to feel spent and strong and like your body is a fully-operational beast-machine. That part of you is just in the waiting room right now, waiting for the body to stop flinching at its own damn name.
This phase—this “isn’t hard enough” part—is about clearing the wreckage from the old systems. You’re patching the roof and relighting the pilot light. Not because that’s the end goal, but because you’re about to move in again.
There’s a beautiful, gnarly, gritty future version of you who is:
Breathing hard
Holding planks
Doing real pushups
Sweating through her shirt
Going on trail hikes that kick her ass and make her feel alive
That’s real. That’s available. But it won’t come from dragging your heavy, shut-down system out the door by the neck. It’ll come because you invited it back in with the kind of patience that says: I know we’re gonna crush it. I’m just not gonna crush myself to get there.
Let’s get you to hard. But let’s do it in a way where you actually want to stay.
<<Okay, I got you. So, back to the original plan. Something inside of me just kind of blinked out when I started to read you proposing... I don't... You didn't really call them schedules either, but it's just, you know, a very tender intention of the week or whatever. And I just felt something about that, like... I'm not interested. I... There's something about it not being big enough. Like, if you had told me, well, let's start out with a walk, a one-hour walk or something, that somehow would have been easier to get me to do. But it's just really hard to get me to do something small. I don't know, maybe it's because I believe it's not enough and it's not going to do enough. Maybe I need some help understanding why this smallness and gentleness is part of an incremental plan towards the bigger stuff, to help convince me that these smaller efforts are relevant and necessary. I don't know, maybe we can start there.>>
God, yes, this is such a real thing. You’re not broken for feeling this way—it’s actually weirdly logical. The small stuff can feel insulting, pointless, like it’s not going to move the needle, so why bother. It doesn’t scratch the itch of "I want change." It doesn’t meet the moment of urgency or restlessness or “get me out of this body right now.”
But here’s the wild part: big change is often invisible at the start. Not because you're doing something massive, but because you're finally doing something that doesn't make your system short-circuit.
Let’s break down what’s going on:
Why smallness feels irrelevant (but isn’t)
You’re trained to think transformation starts big
All those “change my life” moments you mentioned? They started with bold declarations: treadmill, new diet, structured plan.
Your system now associates "doing something big" with "maybe this will finally work."
So small = weak sauce. It feels like bringing a pillow to a knife fight.
Smallness doesn’t scratch the emotional itch
That urgency you feel—the pressure, the weight, the "let's fix this now" impulse—wants a response that matches its intensity.
A 5-minute stretch doesn’t feel like it’s standing up to that inner storm. It feels like a whisper when what you want is a roar.
You don’t trust it will scale
You’re asking: How is a 10-minute ritual going to turn me into someone who can sprint, lift weights, or hike hills?
That’s valid. You’ve seen small things stay small, fizzle out, or die in the cradle.
Why the small stuff is relevant and necessary
Let’s flip it: Small isn’t weak. Small is strategic. Here's why:
1. Your nervous system is a bouncer.
You’ve got inner protectors. Trauma protectors, fatigue protectors, shame protectors. They let big plans through the door because they recognize the familiar push. But they often sabotage those plans later (tantrum, dissociation, dread).
Small, non-threatening movement slips past the bouncer. It rebuilds trust from the inside out.
2. You're proving your own follow-through.
Doing something small and doing it again teaches your brain:
“Hey, I show up for me—even when there’s no scoreboard, no gold star, no external payoff.”
This is psychological weight training. You’re building the self-trust muscle that eventually lets you say: I can take on hard shit… because I know I won’t abandon myself halfway through.
3. Small work = foundational strength.
The shoulder pain? The posture stuff? The tightness? All of that is a drag on your system’s performance.
Doing gentle stretches and foam rolling doesn’t just “prep you for bigger things”—it literally makes bigger things possible. You can’t load weight on an unstable frame. You’re reinforcing the frame.
4. Your rebellion is waiting for a reason to trust you.
The part that throws the tantrum—the I don’t wanna—isn’t lazy. It’s scared, angry, and tired of being pushed past its consent threshold.
By starting with small, doable acts, you’re saying:
“I’m not here to use you. I’m here to partner with you.”
That changes the internal dynamic. Over time, the “I don’t wanna” voice softens… and even gets curious.
Here’s the deal
We can build hard. We can build sweat, cardio, power. But first, we need architecture. And you’re doing that by:
Getting out of pain
Reclaiming body trust
Proving to your inner system that you’re not here to reenact the past
That’s the gateway to eventually craving a walk, or a hike, or a lifting session. You’ll do something hard one day and your body will go, “Hell yes. More of that.”
We’re not starting small because you’re weak. We’re starting small because you’re serious—and because you want to go the distance this time.
Want to try building one “small-but-strategic” movement moment this week that we can treat like a test? Just one thing to experiment with—not to succeed or fail at, but to observe yourself in. We can use that data to go deeper.
