body

If you’ve met me, read one of my blog posts, or even just interacted with me in a moment of my innate ability to completely overshare, you probably know about my very up and down relationship with my body. Actually, let’s not sugar coat it, you probably know that I’ve detested my body pretty much for as long as I can remember. It's been years of therapy and treatment for an eating disorder, and eating well and working out and practicing the good ol’ self love, doing yoga, mindfulness therapy, finding some coping skills that didn’t include malnourishment or self harm... I know that I am more free, but I am still suffocating in this hatred towards my body. Sadly, I think a lot of people - too many people - can relate to this statement. This comparison may seem extreme, but we are in a semi-modern day plague, but this time the plague is not only cast into the body but also the mind.

They say in eating disorder treatment, "the thoughts are the last thing to go." That can be thoughts about food in general, labeling foods as “good” or “bad”, guilt after eating, and most of all, thoughts about your body. I expected it to be difficult, I wasn’t going in naïve, but I wasn’t expecting it to be such a long and difficult process. Simultaneously though, it didn’t surprise me because of how deeply ingrained my negative body image is. According to the Mayo Clinic, body dysmorphia is defined as, “a mental disorder in which you can’t stop thinking about one or more perceived defects or flaws in your appearance - a flaw that, to others, is either minor or not observable. But you may feel so ashamed and anxious that you may avoid many social situations”

I remember from either 3rd or 4th grade, screaming at my mom in front of my full length mirror, “I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR!!!!!!!!!!!” My poor mom would run quickly to comfort my bloody-murderesque scream. My excess of clothes were strewn across the room and I lay, in the middle, sobbing, screaming, and in complete hysterics. This wasn’t rare, considering how dramatic I was am. But I stared in the mirror, crying because I looked terrible in every outfit. “NOTHING FITS!” “Honey,” my mom would gently respond, “we bought those clothes just last week! You loved those pants a few days ago!” “Yah!! Well now they make me look fat” (note: I have NO idea how my mother made it! God bless her!) I pulled myself together and found something to wear, making us 30 minutes late to everything, and me, with fresh tears streaking down my face.

Unfortunately these hysterics continued well into middle school, high school, and even college. Granted, the sobs are quieter, the reaction is toned-down and usually consists of me sitting in front of my mirror making a to-do list of every part of my body I need to “fix.” I love how there are so many Instagram accounts dedicated to body positivity and normalizing parts of the body that society labels as “disgusting” or “bad” But honestly, I can’t help but look at my body and fall into those labels. I grab at the cellulite along my thighs. I obsess over acne that absorbs seemingly every part of my body. I cry at the sight of my stomach rolls. I hate the way my knees fall into each other. I obsess over the minuscule misalignment of my teeth. I’m too white. My hair is too dark. My butt is too small. My boobs are too big. The next thing I know, it’s been an hour, my homework is sitting on my desk… untouched, my head is consumed with thoughts about every scar, pimple, blotch, cellulite thingy, and fat roll on my body.

Usually my blog posts try to intertwine some positive note and I guess my positive note is that I most definitely don’t want to feel this way anymore. I saw this post on Instagram from @mikzazon (an Instagrammer who dedicates her page to being real about bodies and helping normalize things that society pushes into the “abnormal” category) She posted a video from a fitting room while trying on a pair of jeans. I think this is incredibly brave because a) I HATE fitting rooms - the idea of fitting rooms is probably one of the top reasons I choose to do all my shopping from the comfort of my bed and b) she takes that fear that plagues so many people, and posts a video of herself laughing and simply enjoying life. This hit me hard. I ended up sharing it with this caption

Dear Body,

I hurt you, but still you stand.

I hated you, but still you cared.

I know you down, but still you stood for me.

I broke you, but still you held me.

Thank you.

I’m sorry.

I’m learning to love you the way you loved me.

photo credit: selnaART, etsy

It’s crazy to think that all this hatred I project on my body doesn’t phase it. My heart still beats, my legs carry me to beautiful places, my hands allow me to write, my voice allows me to express (which sometimes I do too much!) I remember a time when my body fought even harder for me. I took away its food, its fuel, its energy, its basic needs. I deprived it of the very things it needs to keep me alive. I tried to dig it into a hole, and still… STILL it loved me. It fought for me. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why or how I made it through that eating disorder. Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t. Sometimes I look at my body and wish that I could go back, restart, gain less weight, and therefore be “prettier” now. Sometimes I get mad at my body for doing its job… for saving me. But when it comes down to it, what would I do without why body (I mean literally). I might hate it right now, I hope it’s not that way forever, but I quite literally would not be alive without it. While I might not be jacked, or my little arms may not be able to do any push ups, and my muscles aren’t exactly “evident”, I swear my body is one of the strongest bodies. So while I may not like my body or accept it, I’ve got to acknowledge how much it has given me.

Bodies - we’ve all got them (profound statement I know!) So why is it so hard to be ok with something that everyone has but is simultaneously unique to everyone. Think about it - no body is the same, so why do we hold them all to this society-dictated standard? I know these questions and I know my irrationals thoughts, but I don’t know the answers and that is where I get confused. I don’t write any of this for pity or empathy or as a search for compliments. I truly think this topic is relatable and has such a stronghold on my life right now. My body is going to be with me, struggle with me, change with me, and fight with my forever - I think I’ve got to acknowledge how much it truly cares, despite my anger towards it.