Don’t Stop Moving

Be an active participant in your own healing.
By Susan Magestro

This article has been published and can be viewed online at the Aquatic Exercise Association’s website.

No one knows your body better than you do. Once you get over the fear associated with an extreme medical diagnosis, it’s time to be an active participant in your own healing.

There is ‘no one way’ for everyone to heal. It is up to each of us to listen closely to what is medically recommended, then walk the path best suited for our self. I know this to be true. My story was so unbelievable that I only knew two things with absolute certainty: (1) the only way for me to survive was to have faith in the healing potential of my body and (2) remain attuned to what my body was telling me. With great clarity, my body said, “Don’t stop moving!”

I hadn’t been home in years. I tried to come home many times over the years. I had the airplane tickets, packed my bags, but I couldn’t make it to the airport, let alone get on the plane. For decades, I have worked with horrific crimes involving children throughout the United States and internationally. I had been able to stay grounded and focused with this challenging profession, while also enjoying my personal life as a wife, mother, daughter and friend. One of the ways I was able to enjoy my demanding life was to make exercise an essential part of my day.

Throughout my life, I have spent at least an hour a day in step aerobics classes, biking, walking, kickboxing, and dancing. Eventually, during my fifth decade, I become a yoga instructor, with a focus on restorative and yin yoga within the Hatha Practice. I was a master at pranayama, the art of breathing. That was to be one of my biggest assets as I kept this new season of my life moving. As a child, I played baseball even though it was frowned upon for girls. I rode my bike for hours and tore the ligaments in my ankle jumping off the roof of my house playing Super Woman. I made the cheerleading squad because it was ‘socially acceptable’, but I was picked last of twelve on the squad. I had the athleticism, but not the panache. I earned a brown belt in judo, never admitting to anyone the fear I experienced as I was slammed down on the mat. I lost more matches than I won but mastered the moves.

Then suddenly, right after earning my yoga certification, life as I loved it, changed. It was a mere moment in time that was about to define the last decades of my life. It was far more gut wrenching and unbelievable than any crime I had come in contact with as a criminologist. A betrayal I had just experienced was so insurmountable, the violation of trust so unimaginable, I lost everything, except my life.

This time, I was NOT the criminologist working on a case, I was the casualty in a situation perpetuated against allegedly thousands of women. It was horrific and unconscionable. Many women died; mothers, daughters, sisters of all ages. I was faced with the agonizing decision whether to disclose this unconceivable atrocity or focus on myself. You see, I was faced with a choice; leave my home and possibly survive or stay home and be dead in months. It may seem like it was an easy choice, but it was by far the most agonizing journey of my life. I was told, within a month of my story being shared, thirteen other women with the same experience, followed me to the leading hospital in the world. They too were said to be traumatized from the appearances of our monstrously, deformed bodies developing over a matter of just days. All from taking a prescription written by a doctor, filled by a pharmacy, and paid for by medical insurance.

My new team of doctors at a leading research hospital encouraged me to share my story with other women. While I could not stop this unconscionable crime, I could educate other women not to follow in my footsteps. They continued to remind me that my shoulders were wide, I was of a certain age, I was a polished speaker; so, who better to uncover this egregious story than the criminologist. I absolutely did not want to be the one to tell this story, but I started writing my book. The only way I made it through this challenging time was to make sure one thing for certain, I could not stop moving.

Some moments, the only way for me to make it through hour by hour, was to keep moving in order to survive. I started walking two miles a day no matter how exhausted I felt. I even walked two miles each way to and from chemo. There were days I had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and breathe with each step. I practiced yoga twice a day, every day to feel my inner strength. This allowed me the time to just be. I avoided elevators at all costs challenging myself to climb stairs, no matter the floor. I walked and ran around all nearby parks with my mini Aussie pups. Dance, dance, dance. While struggling to finish my book, I did so while standing and dancing to the beat of my favorite music, inspiring the words to just flow out of me. I started stretching every day. While I had the television on at night, I stretched on my mat. I reminded myself frequently, I was not a newbie to the benefits of exercise and working out. ‘Keep moving’ became my mantra and for these last eight years, I have seldom sat still.

If not for my love of movement, I don’t believe I would be here, today, to tell this story. Movement brought me peace to navigate the anger, the injustice, and feel alive again. It brought me both the internal fortitude and calm to be able to tell my story. I could not find forgiveness, even as a woman who has lived my life embracing forgiveness. Eight years later, I came home. I took the boards off the home I had boarded up and dreamed once again of a future. That future looks very different than the one I planned or would have wished for anyone. I have stepped away from boots on the ground cases. I have stepped away from presenting to audiences of hundreds. And I stepped into a path that was unforeseen yet feels like the perfect fit.

While my new life still includes wonderful family and friends, I have added the gift of sharing how movement has changed my health and my life even when faced with the most agonizing of diagnosis. I am completing an Ai Chi Certification through the Aquatic Exercise Association. I look forward to working with clients in small groups. My goal is for my clients to feel attuned with their bodies; it is empowering and invigorating. Movement allows us to get past whatever our fears are; to bring a gentle strength and peacefulness from within when we are most vulnerable. Our bodies are talking to us. We must not be afraid to have faith in ourselves. We are an integral part of our health and healing along with medical care from a doctor or what a medication can provide. My incredible teams of medical professionals have provided me with unique care; as well as inspirations of hope.

No one knows your body like you do. Of course, pain creates fear and tension. I have learned to make friends with my pain; the physical pain and the mental pain. I ask my body to tell me what it needs; I listen, and I touch the pain. Movement has not only allowed me to heal; it has allowed me to thrive. So now, eight years later, as I took a warrior pose on my deck overlooking the blue waters and snow-capped mountains of my home in Homer, Alaska. I breathe deeply for the first time. Can you come home again? I think you can. Now, I embrace my future; one I never thought I would have. I never stopped moving.

AUTHOR

Susan Magestro, thirty-five year criminologist, interventionist, international presenter, teacher, and university instructor, is now returning to writing full time. A former newspaper columnist and author, she is excited to be merging two passions: criminology & writing and teaching Ai Chi & yoga in the water. You can reach Susan at sulamaestra@gmail.com or www.susanmagestro.com