Becoming free of self-imposed compulsion

At the coast, I had a plan. I’d hike from 3rd beach, on my own, camping one night in each place, and keeping a pace to arrive at the Hoh River. Then I would return.
I had chosen the pace, chosen everything about the hike.
And, as I humped past Giant’s Graveyard, towards Strawberry point, I became increasingly grumpy.
In my body, I felt heavy. My hips were beginning to ache.
I noticed an Eagle perched up on one of the rocky points out in the water. He was sitting. Just sitting.
I became more grumpy.
Continuing on, trudging in the sandy, rocky beach, I approached Strawberry Point, and again: an Eagle, sitting. Perched atop the tor, he was looking at the beautiful blue sky, and alternately napping.
I stopped.
Rebelliousness surged within me. Anger. Jealousy.
​Me, jealous of the Eagle.
I began to laugh. Here I was, self-directed, and completely behaving as though I’d been told “you must do this, in this way” and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to keep walking. I didn’t care about making it to the Hoh River.
I simply stopped. Who was I rebelling against? Myself. So compulsive to stick to the plan that I couldn’t even listen to my own system, until I was able to choose.
I chose: I relaxed, looked around. I enjoyed the view.
I set my tent and happily stayed put for the rest of the trip.

Vacuuming

This self-imposed compulsion happens in movement too.
I remember “I had to” vacuum my son's bedroom. Every time, I would hurt afterwards—particularly in my back. 
Vaccum in hand, parts of me were forcing the issue, while parts of me were rebelling.
My hand pushed the handle.
My jaw was set against it.
My pelvis and hips were leaving the room—or certainly not contributing, as if by stillness they were keeping some part of myself free from having to do this chore.
That left my arm and upper back left to do the vacuuming--and that just was a recipe for pain. 
My physical body was not in agreement with my intended action. In fact, half of my intended to not vacuum at all, so I was literally and physically in conflict with my actions.

Does that mean I don't vacuum anymore? Nope. I found out that in order to really vacuum well, I need to be in agreement with it, with my whole self, that this is what I need to do.
Sometimes that is a shift from “should do” or “have to do” to “will do” and “need to do”—and sometimes it means really asking the question:

1. Is this mine to do?
2. How do I do this in a way that respects myself and my own boundaries?
3. How do I make this more enjoyable for myself, or, if not enjoyable, how do I stay present and move in a way that is in agreement with my intentions?

This is one of the many ways the Feldenkrais Method® informs my choices today.