Trying to be friends with my body

We’ve finally reached the end of January which, for many, is a season of self-improvement and making commitments to change our surroundings for the better. Renewing our interest in these areas is a wonderful concept in theory, but it often leads many down a path of self-loathing and never knowing when enough is enough.

Adding to that slippery slope, the uncertainty of our current political and economic climate makes it seem trivial to be concerned with waistlines, bullet journaling, and meal prep. Not even every day, but every half hour we are presented with a new headline displaying how so many individuals are facing threats on the scale of actual life and death. 

With the stress of current events, it makes sense to try and withdraw where possible for the sake of your own sanity. However, focusing on the self is still an unsafe avenue for many. How do you simultaneously escape the world and yourself? 

This is a question I still struggle to answer to this day. I have a long history of unhealthy behaviors relating to body image and my sense of self while also struggling with feeling helpless in the face of everything that’s wrong with the world. This leaves me with oppressive anxiety and a tendency to freeze up, not knowing what to do or where to go. The only thing that seems to resonate as truth in those moments is knowing that I am not enough. 

I do not have a solution for this dilemma and I don’t know how to escape the dread entirely. All I have to offer is a few behavioral changes that have helped reduce the weight of that dread in my day-to-day life. And while all of this has been helpful to me, none of it is a replacement for medication, therapy, or other accommodations a person may need to live a more fulfilling life. 

I intend to primarily focus on feeling more comfortable in yourself rather than tackling the subject of handling existential dread. That is an entire book waiting to be written. But taking control of our lives where possible is a great step toward feeling prepared to make a change in your community.

Very recently, I had the unfortunate experience of requiring three surgeries in just four months. This took a hell of a toll on me physically, mentally, and financially. I lost weeks and weeks of income from my job, I missed out on several trips and social events I desperately wanted to attend. I was no longer able to exercise as I had before and lift weights to feel strong and confident. I spent months with persistent pain that affected me every moment of every day and it held me back from making progress in my flight training as I worked to obtain a pilot’s license. Now that I am through this months-long struggle (hopefully), I’m left with a financial disadvantage, a loss of time toward my goals, and a body that doesn’t look like the one I had before. I’m weaker, more broke, and covered in scars that are unpleasant to look at and not common for someone my age.

I have encountered many days where I’ve felt completely disconnected from my body and not knowing who I was looking at in the mirror. As someone who has struggled to appreciate my body even when it was strong and healthy, this was a waking nightmare. I haven’t handled it with grace at all times. There were plenty of moments where I was critical of myself for how I looked even though what happened to me was not my fault and could not be prevented. I knew it wasn’t my fault, but that didn’t matter. There is a difference between knowing and believing. I believed I had to have done something wrong at some point to deserve this.

Time and small efforts went a long way to helping me to pull out of this horrific cycle. I went on small walks as soon as I could and went a little further each day. There were times when my impatience led to me pushing myself too hard and I would slowly make my way back home in tears and feeling defeated from the pain. Then I had to remind myself that healing often doesn’t go at the speed you want it to. But progress is still progress, so I would only walk at a pace and distance that felt challenging, but not painful.

I spent more time doing skincare and trying to appreciate the healing process that was at work on my own skin. I didn’t look how I wanted, but I was slowly recovering and the changes were noticeable. And taking time each day to notice and appreciate those changes helped me feel more hopeful. 

I slowly started incorporating healthier foods rather than the soups, crackers, and broths I had been living on while I was in the throes of nausea after surgery. This helped me feel less inflamed and more energetic. 

I also continually reminded myself that I was lucky that I had access to the surgeries I needed. Modern medicine saved me. If I had been born in a different time I would have lost a great deal of my independence and potentially my life altogether. There is a significant privilege in the fact that I was able to repair my body at all. Yes, I was left scarred and permanently altered from these treatments, but I’m still here, and that’s remarkable in itself. 

But then when I had to have surgery a second and third time, and I had to repeat these cycles over and over, it began to feel impossible to maintain a positive attitude. What was the point of all of my handwork if all of it was reversed again and again?

These were the times I really had to get creative to get myself back together, especially in the moments I didn’t think I could escape the despair of my situation. I definitely wallowed in my sorrows for a period. Every moment of every day revolved around me healing and getting better and being preoccupied with the unfortunate circumstances I found myself in. I found myself apologizing to friends who were checking in on me because when they asked how I was doing, all I could tell them was that I was in pain and depressed. Then they felt helpless because there was little they could do to help, then I, in turn, felt guilty because I made them feel guilty. Not to mention the extra work my partner was putting in every day to keep me fed and as comfortable as possible while also having to act as an impromptu therapist when I was being consumed by my feelings. I  was convinced I was nothing more than a drain on everyone in my life. 

I found that expressing appreciation to my loved ones was helpful. I wasn’t in this alone. I had a lot of help and telling people how much I loved and cared about them helped me to not focus on self-pity and realize that there were others that wanted me to succeed. I couldn’t really go out, but I liked having friends come over to drink coffee or tea with me and do a little craft. The social interaction reminded me that this nightmare would eventually come to an end and I was lucky to have friends that were rooting for me. 

I was having trouble doing physical activities, but I used the time I was forced to be immobile to try out new makeup looks, write, color, and watch movies I normally didn’t have time for. Having tiny projects like that helped break up the monotony of napping, eating, and doom-scrolling on social media.

All in all, there isn’t a grand fix to these unfortunate seasons of life but to continually remind yourself of everything that is still good in your life. When you’re struggling to hang on, those tiny moments of clarity where you remember everything you still have despite everything that has been taken away, are the only thing that can help when nothing else will.

A lot of what I’ve learned in this stage of life is still applicable as I’m returning to my normal routines. I’ve found it's been helpful to see my body as if it's another friend of mine. I support my friends, I lift them up and help take care of them. If I see a friend who’s scarred, exhausted, and feeling weak, the last thing I would ever do is berate them and make them feel worse. My body is my friend and it's trying its best. So being more gentle and understanding of it has helped me look at it with less criticism. 

Also reminding myself that the people in my life who love me couldn’t care less about the fact that I look a bit different. When I’m gone, no one will ever think about my scars, acne, cellulite, or the times I gained or lost weight. They’ll be remembering how I made them feel, the jokes I told, the times I showed up for them for support. 

And when all else fails, remember that liking yourself and how you look is an act of rebellion. If you can’t be happy with your appearance for the sake of yourself, do it to spite the industries that want to see you fail. The beauty industry, the fitness industry, the fashion industry, and even your own government have something to gain by you not seeing your own value. Don’t let them have it.