A Love Letter to My Body

I am not at war with my body. My body is at war with chronic illness.

This war is for life, as the chronic illnesses I am plagued with are a part of me. My mind and my body both put up a great fight, but they are tired. I am tired. Chronic illnesses inflame the discs in my spine and the organs in my abdomen. They intensify my mental pain. And when one chronic illness is inflamed, it nearly always provokes its fellow chronic conditions. And since they are all especially feisty, they punch right back. And the fight goes on until an outside source comes in to quiet their griping and calm their nerves.

I am a happy, lucky, and fulfilled human being. But living with chronic pain can make me feel frustrated, sad, and anxious, too. I often have to schedule my life around my chronic conditions, and that’s no fun at all. 

But I should never take out my frustration, sadness, or anxiety on my body. My body is my hero, my sanctuary, and my home. I will live in my body for the rest of my life, so it’s important to take great care of it. Care goes beyond healthy food, exercise, and sleep. Care is self love. Care includes indulging in my passions, saying no when I need to, surrounding myself with supportive people, and pouring love over my head like water. 

When I treat my body with kindness and speak to it with love laced into my voice, my body responds with love and kindness right back.  

I wrote a love letter to my body. It’s shaped like a poem, a defense mechanism, an explanation, and even activism. It feels sad and soulful and happy all at once. It can be read and digested and felt by anyone. But it’s addressed to my body and it’s an expression of my love, all the same.

Dear Body,

A silhouette in a foggy mirror

is a distorted reflection of body and curves.

Silky, rounded edges,

a sensual, tasteful figure,

a delicacy like hors d’oeuvres.

At a Glance

When I stand in front of a foggy mirror, you look like a stunning work of art. You fit somewhere into society’s definition of beauty, at a glance, which makes my life easier. My mind isn’t at war with you because you just so happen to be this beautiful mural, I think, and because my mind has decided to worry about much more pressing matters, or so they seem to me.

I’ll never know what others truly think of me because I’ll never sit inside their brain. The foggy mirror is all that people will ever see of me because they’ll never sit inside my brain, either. It has mattered so much, all my life; my image, others’ perceptions. We paint pictures, hide feelings, and bury traumas. All anyone sees is a foggy mirror. You can perceive a distorted image in absolutely any way you want to.

Water droplets on a mirror evaporate,

revealing wet skin embellished with scars.

Tales of pain and anxiety,

of perseverance and courage,

stories as beautiful as stars.

Look Closer

When the filters disappear, it’s easier to notice flaws. Through the painted pictures and the curtain that hides our feelings and traumas, there is depth. There are cracks in our skin, and sometimes you can glimpse the truth through them when you look closely.

Inside rest two metal rods,

twelve inches in length.

Twenty bolts, twenty screws,

cadaver bone, damaged discs,

scar tissue, and a great deal of strength.

Inside burns angry inflammation,

lighting up my nerves with fire and pain.

Outside, I quake like the earth.

When you peer deep into my core,

you understand why I complain.

Inside, I scream questions, demanding answers.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Are you going to be okay?

Why are there endless aches?

Why are there infinite anxieties, too?

Look Even Closer

Empathy allows you to feel the pain of others. You can ask questions when you don’t understand, you know. If you knew what was going on inside everyone’s bodies and minds, you’d feel a lot more compassion for the people you touch and encounter every day.

I am a mechanically engineered masterpiece.

I am a piece of artwork sculpted by biology.

My body is complex and capricious.

Doctors never have all the answers,

but I hope to be saved by greater technology.

Still, I have a heart that beats, without stopping.

It beats for words that tell a story.

It beats for the people.

It beats for the planet.

But it beats the loudest for me.

Step Back, Bigger Picture

Love trumps pity, always, with time. When I speak my truth, I am raw and emotional. I think I sometimes give the impression that you, body, are compromised and weak and that I am struggling so deeply. But you, body, are strong and phenomenal, and my struggles are human. We all struggle deeply, but sometimes I think I am the only one who talks loudly and honestly about it.

After I’ve been able to process my negative emotions, I don’t pity you, body. I mean, look at everything you can do despite the pain and diagnoses.

I feed my body proper nutrients and exercise,

but it also needs love to grow.

So, I feed my body a fertilizer mixed with kindness,

I water it with gratitude and compassion,

and I shelter it with this warmth I call home.

Body of mine,

I am in awe of what you can do.

I wrap my bare arms around you,

around my naked chest and scarred back.

Will you love me if I love you?

I am not at war with my body.

I never was because my love is so strong.

My body is at war with chronic illness,

but it peaks mountains anyway. You see,

my body has loved me back all along.

Feed My Body Love

I nurture you so we can have the best chance at happiness. You are a garden and a home, and when I love you and care for you, you reciprocate. Thank you. 

Love, 

Me

Mental Health Blog Disclaimer

I am not a medical professional, therapist, or mental healthcare professional. The information provided on this website is for informational purposes only, comes from my own personal experiences, and may be read, interpreted, and practiced at your own risk. Do not rely on this information as a substitute to medical advice or treatment from a healthcare professional.