I’ve been 152 lbs and I’ve been 93lbs and all kinds of weights in between. I’ve had a body strong enough to run a half marathon and bust out a 6:47 mile on 93 degree day. I’ve had a body so weak and in pain my husband had to help me get dressed and then carry me to the car day after day. My current body is one I never dreamed of.
I’m not sure anyone can ever be prepared to be sick and in this much consistent pain, to lose so much so quickly.
I used to shame myself that I had this 20 year struggle with my eating disorder and then also became chronically ill. It would feel like these continual struggles with my body was surely a sign of how crappy I am. It’s taken some time, some meditation, and (thank you universe) meeting others who have also had eating disorders AND chronic illness to slowly shake off this faulty thinking. I needed to learn that one doesn’t negate the other nor are either proof that “I don’t belong here”.
Pain and suffering are random occurrences, not punishment or revenge.
I’ve had a million different bodies in the past 33 years, and I have slowly come to understand that none of these bodies were 100% good or 100% bad. My body has never been completely perfect or completely flawed. My body is just a vessel and no matter how much emotional or physical suffering it has brought me, I understand that my body above all else is just trying to exist.
These “adventures in owning a body” aren’t always easy or fun but every year I learn to appreciate my body in a new way and to forgive myself over and over and over.
This body is a gift, a curse, a challenge, and most of all a map to always find my way back to my heart. I used to only think of my body in black and white terms but I see now that my body exists in the unending murky grey.