Flexibility

How far should you bend?

When I was a child, I used to entertain my friends with the strange ways I could bend and contort my fingers. I could – still can – wrap each finger over the next and effortlessly bend them backwards and forwards into unnatural positions.

For years, I’ve impressed yoga and Pilates teachers with my flexibility. Just last week, I noticed another gym-goer clocking the ease with which I can reach over my shoulder to clasp my hands behind my back. Not only can I touch my toes, I can still put both palms flat on the floor.

People used to say I was ‘double-jointed’ and I was proud to be so bendy. After all, we’re encouraged to stretch and stay flexible, especially as we get older.

But, as it turns out, being flexible isn’t always a good thing.

The first time I heard the word ‘hypermobile’, I was at a hospital appointment with my then five-year-old daughter. She’d had two surgeries after badly breaking her arm – literally snapping it in two just above the elbow. It took six months of physio for her to regain function and the doctor explained that the only reason she still had a full range of motion was because she was so flexible: she was hypermobile. We assumed this was positive news – at the time, we didn’t realise that she was unlikely to have suffered such a nasty injury if her joints weren’t unstable to begin with.

The next time I heard it, I’d been referred to a podiatrist because the balls of my feet felt like they were on fire. I’d been doing a long school run twice a day, clocking up an average of 15,000 steps – and my feet were getting increasingly painful. During my assessment, I learned that it’s not normal to be able to move each of your toes independently. I always thought it was a personal failing that I was terrible at walking in heels – but the doctor was astonished I’d managed it at all. The biggest revelation of all: I hadn’t realised that the unpleasant sensation I sometimes experienced when I put weight on the balls of my feet was, in fact, my three smallest toes briefly dislocating then popping back into place.

Official diagnosis: hypermobile toes, aka peripheral hypermobility.

A few years later, my daughter experienced such severe hand pain and swelling during her GCSEs that we were advised to ask our GP for a letter to support her request for extra time in exams. One ten-minute appointment later, we had a diagnosis: hypermobility spectrum disorder (HSD), which is part of a syndrome of connective tissue disorders, including Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS). Unstable joints are just one of the symptoms – others include joint pain and dislocations, muscle, tendon and soft tissue injuries, fatigue, dizziness and anxiety.

Being flexible isn’t always a good thing.

There isn’t a cure for HSD, but it can be managed with lifestyle modifications and exercise. It’s not even all that uncommon, and is believed to be widely undiagnosed – mainly because many of these symptoms can feel ‘normal’ if you’ve lived with them for years. It’s often genetic – so it’s less likely to seem like a problem if there are other people in your family who feel, and move, in the same bendy way.

It took over 35 years for me to find out that hypermobility was behind the neck issues I’ve suffered with since my teens – the same neck issues that have cost me a fortune in osteopathy, physiotherapy, Pilates classes and fancy pillows. It also explains my reactive, easily-bruised skin – and my ability to cut myself on even the most innocuous plastic packaging. It explains how I’ve managed to dislocate my thumb twice (once opening a sash window, once putting the bins out), not to mention the time I hurt my back by unknowingly over-stretching doing Yoga with Adriene, or the month of back pain I endured over Christmas after adding a little extra weight to my barbell hip thrusts. There’s even a link to the severe sickness (hyperemesis gravidarum) that I endured for most of pregnancy. My mum has experienced a few of the same problems, and when I look back at old photos of my gran, she’s often holding her (long-fingered) hands in some recognisably bendy shapes. It’s pretty obvious where it came from – but none of us experienced as many debilitating symptoms as my daughter.

So we just put up with it.

I mean, I didn’t even question it, it was just a bit inconvenient.

I tolerated the discomfort and didn’t make a fuss. I was flexible. Very accommodating.

And that’s not always a good thing.

Because many of us – hypermobile or not – are way too flexible. With our time, our feelings and our relationships.

Take it from me, that’s not a comfortable way to live your life.