Dear Body: I love you.

On my way home for grocery shopping (task 1 of 2 done for the day!) I made the decision to get off and walk four blocks home, with my groceries. Granted, it was a light shopping week as we’re trying to cook more and more from home, from scratch, and we already have a lot of our staples put by. Since my leg issue started back in late fall of 2014, I’ve been pretty bus-happy. Instead of getting off the bus and walking with a load, I’d have to take the bus to the station and wait for the bus that goes closer to my home, or else loop around, both of which take about the same amount of time. My leg has been getting better. It’s been a number of months since the last time it hurt on a regular basis.

I’m hard on my body. I don’t practice safe or smart body mechanics. I don’t move it properly, and I don’t exercise key areas to help out weak areas regularly at all. It’s easy for me to pull my back out, and these days my back rarely suffers a strain without bringing my sciatic nerve along for company. Two weeks ago I fucked my knee up, and last weekend I was on knee rest. Not that long ago I spent four days in bed because I really fucked my back up.

Today, I walked four blocks with four bags of groceries. I stopped once to rest my arms. My knee moved without the slightest hint of pain, though there’s a ghost of a memory of it, and so I move carefully and watch my steps.

I thought about my complaining about being exhausted in my last post, and trying to find a reason for why I am so exhausted. I thought about the way that my body (of which my mind is a part) is effected by stress and what a wonderful, closed system bodies are. My body generally heals quickly — the leg injury/sciatica crap was the first time I’ve had chronic pain (beyond migraines) that existed at that level for that long. I’m not trying to sound ableist here — I appreciate that not everyone has a body that will heal injuries so fast or without  hard work. I just wanted to say, though: I love my body.  I love that, in a society that wants me to admit that I’m less worthy, less deserving, less capable, because I’m fat, that I fucking love my body. Even if my back is weak and I get stressed out easily, and I need more rest than some people do, and if I have limitations that I sometimes think I should be able to train myself around or out of.

It’s been over a year since getting off at that stop and walking home with a burden was an option, and today I did it without really thinking about it.

I might have cried, a little.


2 thoughts on “Dear Body: I love you.

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