Lately, I’ve been thinking (or not thinking). Let’s just say that when I have been out on my long, easy runs something has been coming to mind quite often. The issue of how I have treated my body the over these last 44 years. More and more, I am beginning to separate my mind (thoughts), body (my physical self) and spirit (the light within). I have come to realize that, in my lifetime, I have not been the best hostess to my body.
Let me explain.
In the past I have always been unconscious of my body, letting my thoughts/mind run everything, kind of like a dictator who has no regard for the people (the people being my body). Ok, let me use another analogy: my mind has been an abusive parent to my body who is the defenseless child. I hope this makes sense.. Anyway, I was unaware, but I am seeing the light and I am feeling regretful and wanting to change my ways. In light of this amazing post by my beautiful friend, I thought I’d write a little letter to my body…
My most beloved body,
I am so grateful that I was fortunate enough to be given you. You are strong, healthy, and free of disease. When so many things can go wrong in creation, I was blessed with a healthy body. You’re a miracle. With all of your intricate systems working in perfect harmony to make one sublime form.
When you were born, my mother gently cared for you and made sure you were fueled with healthy whole foods. She cherished you and made sure you played outside and moved. When you fell and were hurt, she would clean and tend to the cut to be sure it healed free of infection. As I grew into adulthood and became responsible for you, for a variety of reasons, I focused only on your superficial aspects, primarily with how you looked on the outside. In my twenties, I baked you in the sun with baby oil and fried your tresses with Sun-in and lemon juice, only to be disgusted with the horrible outcome. I forced you to ingest candy, soda, recreational drugs, alcohol, and smoke. I permanently placed ink inside of you in the form of a tattoo.
In my early thirties, I starved you into nothing, and a few years later stuffed those same sad feelings that starved you with mountains of greasy, fatty unhealthy food. In my late thirties I ran you into the ground, made you work when you were injured, punished you over and over again when my mind felt “not good enough”.
I made you work when you were exhausted and have pushed you beyond what any good parent or host should have. I have berated you for not being fast enough, good enough, or responsive enough. Like a horrible parent yelling and spiting profanities on the sidelines of a game, I have been cruel to you. You have accepted and quietly done what I have commanded you to do for my entire adult life. Now in my forties, this letter is to say, “I’m sorry.”
I can’t change what has been done, but I can move forward and try and do better in our future. First and foremost, I will be aware of you, and know that you are there and separate from my mind. I will care for and nurture you like a good parent would to a child. I will make mistakes and mess up sometimes, but I will be aware. Aware of what I put into you, aware when you are hurting. I will listen to you when you are tired, and fully accept your limitations.
I did not get to choose you, I was given you as a gift and I feel incredibly blessed about that. I am proud of you and I will celebrate all of the many things I love about you and focus less on the very minor imperfections. I plan on spending many more healthy years together. Thank you, for all that you are.
Enternally Grateful,
Lisa
