Slow Movement Is Still Movement

I have been away from my home, essentially, for four months.

I’ve been using TrustedHousesitters, staying in other people’s homes and caring for their animals while they’re away. My first stay was in Snohomish, Washington, where I spent eight weeks caring for three French bulldogs and two English bulldogs. The home was beautiful, the city was lovely, and I genuinely enjoyed being there.

I was also dealing with quite a bit of sciatica pain. I’ve noticed that when life becomes especially tense, my sciatica gets worse. My body often recognizes the stress before I fully acknowledge it.

From Washington, I went straight to Atlanta to celebrate our youngest son’s engagement. After getting stuck overnight at the airport, we still made it to his engagement dinner—only five minutes late. It felt like a small miracle.

Then I drove to Savannah, where I cared for a sweet dog named Jake and two cats, Kitty and Fluffy. The owner is a SCAD professor, and his art was everywhere. The house was so cheerful that it made me smile every day.

Then my husband met me in Savannah, and we drove home.

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I knew things at home had not really been taken care of while I was away. My husband and daughter had both been working a lot, and neither had been in the best headspace.

But I didn’t understand how much things had deteriorated until we pulled into the driveway.

The grass was nearly a foot tall. The gardens were completely overgrown. The weeds had swallowed the walkway. Inside, it was clear that the house had become overwhelming for the people living in it.

I came home already sore, and suddenly I was facing what felt like an endless list.

And I’m leaving again soon. I’ll be returning to Savannah to care for Jake for another two weeks.

My first instinct was to believe I had to fix everything before I left again.

But I can’t.

Instead, I began choosing what was most important and reminding myself that I could continue when I came home again.

Meanwhile, I’m also building KinThrive. I’m working on my website, figuring out pricing, defining my one-on-one and group coaching, and deciding what I want this next chapter of my work to look like.

Every weekday morning, I work with my friend Jason through body doubling. That deserves its own newsletter because it has been surprisingly helpful—but that is a story for another week.

What I’m beginning to understand is that progress doesn’t have to happen quickly to be real.

It took me three days to mow the lawn.

I learned to use a weed whacker for the first time in my life, and that took two days.

I’ve been cooking dinner so I have leftovers, which makes the following day easier. I’ve stopped during a meal and thought, “Oh, this tastes really good.” That small moment of pleasure matters.

I’m walking my daughter’s dog. I’m eating lunch. I’m taking breaks.

These may sound like ordinary things, but when I’m overwhelmed, they are often the first things I stop doing.

I’ve also started doing about 20 minutes of tai chi movements to keep my body active without forcing it. I’m sure you’ve seen the millions of ads—or perhaps I’m the only person getting all of them. But the movements seem to help. When my body moves gently, my sciatica feels less consuming.

I’m learning not to force myself through everything.

There have been times when I’ve still done too much. I rushed to clean my daughter’s room while she was away because I knew I had only two days to do it. My body let me know afterward that I had pushed too hard.

But overall, I am practicing something different.

I’m identifying the priorities. I’m completing one part at a time. I’m giving myself space to care for my body between tasks.

And I’m noticing that I work more effectively when I do that.

For years, I lived with chronic stress around my children, my marriage, my work, and whatever might happen next. In that state, taking care of myself often felt less important than responding to the latest crisis.

Now I’m trying to recognize that caring for myself is part of moving forward.

I’ve even been using ChatGPT to help me stay on track. At the beginning of the day, it helps me identify what matters most. At the end of the day, I tell it what I completed.

It may remind me about the two things I didn’t finish—but it also reflects back everything I accomplished.

Apparently, I need that reminder.

I need someone—or something—to say, “Yes, those things are still waiting. But look at how much you moved forward today.”

Maybe you need that reminder too.

Progress doesn’t always look like a dramatic transformation. Sometimes it looks like mowing one section of the lawn, cooking enough food for tomorrow, walking the dog, or taking a break before your body forces you to take one.

Slow movement is still movement.

What is one small, regulated action you can take today—and can you let that be enough?

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