In the span of less than 18 months, I broke both of my fifth metatarsals (the outside foot bone below the little toe). The first was in February of 2021 while doing agility work in my studio. I jumped and landed on a piece of wood, breaking the bone in 4 places. The other was in July 2022 on our trip to Minnesota while dancing in the grass with my family.
By January of this year, both feet had healed. My body was OK, but my mind and heart were still reeling. Both breaks were tagged by orthopedists as “freak accidents.” The one in the grass, I wasn’t jumping or doing anything bonkers, it just...broke. The first one required surgery but it was the randomness of the second injury that terrified me even more. If that could happen, anything could happen.
Even after some somatic therapy, I was still rattled by even the slightest pain in my feet. After practicing sensation-centered movement for more than two decades, my body awareness is fine-tuned. What I lost after the injuries was an accurate interpretation of the sensations I was receiving.
In her July 2023 New Yorker piece, The Paradox of Listening to Our Bodies, Jessica Wapner explores interoception – our inner sense that links our bodies and minds — and how it can both guide us helpfully and sometimes tell us things that simply aren’t true.
She writes:
[E]ven if you’re receiving a strong signal from your body, it can be inaccurate. Consistently perfect interoception is impossible: sometimes we listen to our hearts, but they have the wrong message; at other times, the message is right, but we don’t hear it. The body itself changes our capacity to listen. … And interoception is complicated by the fact that it’s tightly tied to our personal experiences. Whatever happened to us in the past—a dangerous encounter with a stranger, a scary movie that made a big impression, time on the battlefield—alters how our bodies respond in the future. If a person’s responses are sufficiently shaped by such experiences, then listening to her body might lead her astray.
Since the second fracture, this is exactly where I was. I’d feel a sensation — something I would probably have ignored a few years ago — and spiral into throat clenching fear that I’d hurt myself again. A twinge, an ache, a mis-step on a rocky path and I’d plunge into anxiety that I’d broken something.
Wapner explains:
One of the lessons of interoception research … is that access and accuracy don’t necessarily go together. Just because we have a bad feeling doesn’t make it right. It’s unwise to assume that increasing people’s interoceptive curiosity will solve their problems. It could be that “you’re just training them to read a signal that’s actually giving them really bad information,” [Tim Dalgleish, a psychologist at the University of Cambridge] said; it can even be useful for someone to be “trained to ignore their body.”
After months of cycling in and out of intense anxiety, an x-ray confirmed there was, in fact, nothing structurally wrong with my feet. Since then, I’ve been learning to heal my interoceptive connection with myself. How do I feel sensation and interpret it more accurately?
In a recent episode of the Circle of Willis podcast, Dr. Jim Coan describes his own experience of interoceptive inaccuracy following his near-fatal heart attack. Now instead of calling 911 every time he feels pressure in his chest, he is learning to feel what he feels without stepping onto the ledge of fear. [Dr. Coan’s story is confirming and wise and this whole episode is excellent.]
Anxiety ramped up for me as this year’s big trip to visit our Minnesota family approached. It was smack-dab in the middle of the trip last year that the second fracture happened – while simply dancing in the grass, I’ll remind you – and I was up to my eyelashes in superstitious (maybe even PTSD) anxiety that it would happen again.
It didn’t.
Here is a look at a few parts of the trip and what was happening on the outside and on the inside of my interoceptive head.
Fri, July 7 ~ Warren Dunes State Park
Outside:
Warren Dunes State Park hike to Lake Michigan
A hike over massive dunes along Lake Michigan. Steep climb with deep sand that leads to the lake where we swim and look for interesting stones.
Inside:
Look! A stone that matches my shirt!
I worry about the deep soft sand. How will my feet deal with it? Some say walking in sand is good for them, some say it is the worst. Breathe, Susan. You’re OK. Get in the water and relax.
Sat, July 15 ~ BerGlandia in Elk River, Minnesota
Outside:
Berglandia 2023!
Our yearly big family gathering! Four generations! A class in the grass! Food (Cookie Salad. It’s a thing!), laughter, singing, splashing. Conversations about books and Ted Lasso (you know, the important stuff).
Inside:
Super anxious to be back exactly where the second break happened, exactly one year later. Just walking into the yard zings my nervous system. Offering my family a class in the grass again is scary … and also freeing. I feel lighter afterward. It is worth facing the fear rather than avoiding. Look, Susan, it can go another way.
Sat & Sun July 22 & 23 ~ Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore
Outside:
Perimeter Trail, Grand Island, Michigan.
Our two most physical days of the trip: a 20-mile mountain bike ride on Grand Island (including a messy confrontation with a mud puddle) and a 10-mile hike along the Pictured Rocks Lakeshore.
Inside:
Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. That’s ME!
I am afraid I can’t do this ride. I have a Swiss commuter bike with skinny tires! What if I crash? Just keep pedaling. I can do this. Even with skinny tires. Even if I fall in a mud puddle.
Ten miles on a rocky, muddy trail. What if something happens way out in the woods? What if my feet are tired after all the biking yesterday? One step at a time, sister. Keep walking and taking in the beauty. You’re OK. The cold water of Superior is a balm.
Fri, July 28 ~ Youghiogheny River, Ohiopyle State Park
Outside:
Youghiogheny River, Ohiopyle State Park. Me swimming.
We drive and bike and hike to a secluded stretch of river. We perch on the rocks, read books, watch trains and a flock of mergansers. I make my way through mud and rocks to swim in the cool water.
Inside:
I’ve worn the wrong shoes. My foot aches after walking in muck and on unstable rocks. Oh darlin. You’re OK. You’re walking fine. Give it some rest and some salve. You’re OK, you really are.
My interoception seems to be shifting. Being present with sensation without attaching a whole story about what those sensations mean is a practice. After 26 days of adventuring, I am deeply grateful for everything my body allows me to do.
After any traumatic experience – whether it’s a physical injury, a health condition, or an emotional loss -- it takes time to reorient and recalibrate our sense of ourselves in the world. New experiences and anniversaries can be times of heightened fear and also times to show up and reset our connections both inside and out.