Growing up I wasn’t allowed to be barefoot. I was hardly allowed to pet dogs. I wasn’t allowed to do much that scared my dad. My dad, who was a lineman for over 30 years working one of the worlds most dangerous jobs, was scared. He was scared of everything it seemed like growing up. Being sick, getting sick, trying new things, flying, going somewhere new, you name it. He is a man stuck in his ways. My dad could live off canned green beans and cereal the rest of his life. I remember when I finally started high school and I tried out for the track team. I made it as a 400 meter runner, but I was really interested in pole vaulting. I went home and told my parents how excited I was about it. My dad quickly shut it down with “one bad fall and there goes your back”. I don’t want you to think my dad is this mean, unsupportive man, he isn’t. He is just scared and portrayed his fears onto me throughout my life. It’s safe to say growing up I didn’t move my body much. 

Because of this upbringing, this fear influenced me. I grew a lot of fear myself that I am slowly having to face and confront head on. Being barefoot though is not one of those fears. If I could go everywhere barefoot and it be socially acceptable, I’d do it. Unfortunately I can’t, so ever since my first teacher training I put more importance on the type of shoes I wear. Especially my work shoes because I stand at an operating table for hours on end. Along with my shoes, I take note of how I’m standing because I’m looking down into an incision. I keep bent knees, slightly tuck my chin and see that I’m elongated my cervical spine, and this helps me not to hunch over. 

With my dad being such a picky eater and not wanting to try new things, that’s how I grew up too, my poor mom had to accommodate both of us. I didn’t even have my first hamburger till I was 18. As I got older and began cooking for myself and learning about all these pretty vegetables and how good they actually are, my mind was blown. I even went vegan for a little while, you can only guess how my parents handled that. 

I loved how Katy Bowman talks about we are not our familial genes and age isn’t an excuse. My grandparents are 87 and 89 and still drive tractors, have two to three big gardens a year and cook for their small community. My mom on the other hand is about to have her second hip replacement. The difference here, my grandma squats and gets on her hands and knees on the regular tending to the garden, my grandpa keeps his mind sharp by buying and fixing up old tractors. 

Even though I have evolved from a lot of my upbringing, there is still room for improvement. I can bring more movement into my life. More functional movements. Squat more. Introduce a stool to the bathroom. Use my non dominant hand more. Simply walk more. Just like the caterpillar becomes the butterfly through metamorphosis, realize we are not separate – we are nature. 

Shontel Stott