Your Body is Still Your Own

For years I have been angry with my body. At some point, long before my Lyme disease diagnosis, it stopped performing the way it used to perform. It became slow, painful and less agile. Eventually, I stopped listening to its moaning and disregarded its pleas for my attention. Then, I was diagnosed and I started listening again. I did my best to heal and to get better during my treatment. But, I was still angry. I wanted my old body back. Until recently. Recently, I rediscovered my body and realized that this body is still my own. Just as your body is still your own. I didn’t abandon it overnight.  It happened slowly over the course of a decade. 

How I came to lose touch with my corporeal existence

The first physical sign I remember of Lyme disease was fibromyalgia pains. It started in my spine and over time migrated into my limbs. At the time that this symptom began, I was a dance major in college. For the first time in my life I felt like my body was deserting me. I was angry that it was taking opportunities away from me and devastating my hopes and dreams of being a professional dancer. And so I thumbed my nose at it for daring to disappoint me.

About five years later I experienced my first bout of dizziness. I was confused and demoralized by this symptom that was accompanied with brain fog and dissociation. For the second time, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin, which left me dysphoric. Up until this time of my life I had always been naturally athletic, comfortable in a crowd and confident in my intelligence. For that month or so that these dizzy spells ensnared me, all of that evaporated. This time instead of feeling angry I was truly frightened by what was happening to me, and so I ran away. I abandoned myself.

Fast forward through the next thirteen years and you’ll watch me gradually losing confidence in my soul’s home. As more and more symptoms began to appear I dismantled my relationship with my body, piece by piece. Dealing with chronic pain and exhaustion, I ignored its cries for help and forged onward. When the tremors began I went into denial. My memory started to falter and I passed the buck. Over and over, I lost touch with my corporeal existence. I felt like I could no longer trust it so I simply withdrew into my mind, severing the oh-so important mind-body-spirit connection.

Don’t leave your body like an empty sail, dangling in the wind

It may feel as though your body has abandoned you. But, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Your body is doing exactly what it needs to do to protect itself and heal. Your soul is scared too because your body is under threat.

There’s a rumbling under the surface, the ground is shaking, the chandeliers are thrashing about in an unnatural way. Water is dripping from unknown sources and heat is emanating from places that should be cold and calm.  When those fear signals sound, when your heart is racing and your head starts spinning, don’t run. Don’t abandon it in its time of need. Stand still and offer comfort. Wrap your arms around yourself as a mother would her child. Kiss your forehead and soak up your tears. Sing yourself a lullaby as you lull yourself to sleep.

Your body is still your own. Listen to it and stand in awe.

I am no longer afraid of my body. Instead, I listen. It’s always telling me something. All I need to do is stop and be patient. A small discomfort isn’t necessarily reason for alarm. When it sends out a distress signal, instead of running away in fear, tucking my tail and curling into a ball, I simply sit. And listen. I ask, “What are you trying to tell me? How can I help you? I am here for you and I’m listening.”

The body is truly an amazing instrument. All it really wants to do is survive. It is built to grow, heal and thrive. It wants to live, just as your soul wants to live. Listen to each other. Cooperate and disseminate information to each other. Share in your pains, fears, joys and pleasures. I know that it may not feel like it right now but you can coexist, through all of it. However, you have to want it. You have to put forth the effort.

When everything feels foreign, dreadful and dramatic, that is an opportunity for growth and connection. Breathe. Listen. Sit with yourself. Love yourself. Touch yourself. Touch your hands, your arms, your legs and your feet. Run a loving hand over your heart and caress your stomach. Massage your toes and your scalp. Your body is still your own.

Don’t abandon your body like I abandoned mine

In the depths of my misery, during the long days of my treatment, I felt like a shell of the person I once was. Any joy, ambition or sense of self I had in the beginning had been sucked out of me. My essence had seemingly evaporated into dust and left me feeling like a dried up husk. For months I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror because I no longer recognized the woman staring back at me.

So, the next time you’re feeling the same way, stop and listen. Look at yourself in the mirror and smile back at the warrior battling away inside of you. Have a little chat with yourself. Ask yourself questions. You can do this silently or out loud, whichever you prefer. But don’t forget to listen. When a symptom flares or a new one appears, don’t be afraid and don’t run away. Just talk.

If you’re feeling lightheaded and dizzy, maybe you’re pushing yourself too hard. You might need to hold off on that activity or slow down. Has a new rash appeared on your hands, face or chest? It might be a histamine reaction. Ask yourself if you just started taking a new medication that could be the cause. Is your heart racing and your tinnitus is buzzing like a sea of grasshoppers? Maybe you’re herxing and it’s time to step up your detox protocols. Whatever it is, your body is fighting for you and it wants to get better. So, listen and respond with love, compassion and kindness. It is your bodies number one goal to survive and be well. Be it’s partner in your struggle for well-ness.

It has taken me two years of therapy to realize that I have been running away from my myself. My body, and its terrifying symptoms, scared me. So I abandoned it. Remember, while you’re battling this life-sucking disease, that your body is still your own. It may not feel like it but I promise you it is yours, for better or worse. Your body needs you. Don’t abandon it like I did.