A few months ago I was diagnosed with bilateral plantar fasciitis and Achilles tendonitis. And I had let it get really severe before I even registered that it was a problem that I should probably see a doctor about. 

For me, this happened because I have so many other health issues that I feel like I’m constantly playing whack-a-mole with which one is the most urgent or needs the most attention and focus. And as soon as I get one thing under control, something else takes priority. Since chronic pain is a part of my regular existence, it was easy for me to ignore my foot pain until it became so bad that I was struggling to even walk to the bathroom or to the kitchen. Standing up to cook became an impossible task. So finally I realized I actually need to pay attention to it, and I went to the doctor.

My healthcare team gave me a combination of strategies to heal my feet. These included: 

• Intrinsic foot muscle exercises 
• Staying off my feet as much as possible and replacing my regular exercise options with chair yoga 
• Daily use of a fascia release massager on my calves and feet
• Applying Voltaren to the affected areas a few times a day
• Wearing specific braces at night to keep my feet and ankles in the right position
• And buying special shoes for both walking outside and around the house 

This plan felt really good for me and really sustainable. I loved the chair yoga routines and the foot exercises. The only thing that was really painful for me was having to have braces on at night and wear shoes during the day. Because for me, having things on my hands and feet drives me bonkers. It’s one of my sensory sensitivities. Rings and bracelets are a hard no for me, and I prefer to be barefoot whenever possible. If I have to wear shoes I’ll wear flip-flops as often as I can get away with it, and I’ll only wear closed-toed shoes if I absolutely have to.

So this was my routine for the past 2 and 1/2 months, and then one day I was in a hurry to let Miley outside, so I didn’t put my indoor shoes on. I just walked her straight to the back door. To my surprise, my feet didn’t hurt! I was able to walk normally with a smooth, even gait–no limping or hobbling whatsoever.

I was so excited! The prospect of getting to be barefoot again was unexpectedly relieving. I knew it was mildly annoying to always have things on my feet, but I didn’t realize how tired I had grown of it until I thought I didn’t have to do it anymore. 

So I did exactly what I used to judge all those clients for doing: I stopped doing the thing that works because it was working. And unsurprisingly, because I stopped wearing my supportive shoes, my feet got worse again. 

A few days ago I woke up, stood up, and felt a shooting pain up both heels. The sensation conjured up an image of one of those old-timey horror movie posters that says,  “Return of the…” in a bloody font, letting the audience know that even though they thought the monster had been vanquished, it has come back to terrorize them again. 

I felt crestfallen, resentful, trapped, almost panicky. The idea of having to go back to constantly having stuff on my feet made me want to cry. 

And that’s when I realized: even though I have been compassionate towards my clients who have stopped following through with the training plans I’d given them that had been working so well for them, I didn’t fully understand what they were experiencing that made them stop doing what was clearly working. I’d had compassion but not empathy.