Let Me Hear Your Body Talk

Let Me Hear Your Body Talk

In the times of darkness, there was a period of a couple months where I all I ate was six soda crackers a day. I drank a lot of pop and coffee, and took a lot of speed, and some cocaine to keep my energy up. And then I had to have a few drinks and smoke some weed to go to sleep. Seriously.

My body was the enemy.

I hated it. I had allies who hated it with me, from my boyfriend to strangers on TV and in magazines. Poor little body.

I did horrible, hurtful, scarring things to it. I was at war with a burning fury in my heart.

It turned out that my body wasn’t the enemy, I was. And let me tell you, that was a bitter pill.

I had to make amends. I had to correct behaviors. I had to find a way to love my body, when I had hated it since I was little.

I quit the drugs and alcohol. I started eating again. I took up yoga, and walking, and dancing. I went to therapy.

It was a slow process. I gained a lot of weight, but I also started to pay attention to the information I was getting from my body. I got a little more sleep. I slowed down a little. I stopped before I was exhausted.

I made exercise a normal and fun part of my day. I noticed when I said horrible things to my body, and corrected that.

I stopped trying to “fix” me, and instead, began trying to understand this physical being my mind lives within. I wanted to find a way to address all my physical symptoms and maladies in a different way.

I began using the model of body-mapping where you assume that your body is making sensations happen in certain places to tell you what’s going on with it, and with your unconscious mind.

On the one hand, this is a new idea, and a radical new idea at that. On the other hand, we have it built into our speech. Uh. Yes. We use dozens of body metaphors every day.

Carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders = sore shoulders. She’s got my back = feeling supported. He’s a pain in my neck, or elsewhere = sore neck, or elsewhere. I can’t stomach it, I’m scared sh*tless, I need elbow room, toeing the line, not a leg to stand on, I feel p*ssed off. The examples go on and on, and we made them up because that’s how our body talks to us, we just put language on them, and pretend that our body didn’t say that.

The more patient I am with my body, the more I listen to it, respect it, treat it well, the better it responds. When I notice what it wants to eat, or drink, and give it that, I feel good. If I sleep when I get tired, I feel good. If I get a twinge, I pay attention and look for meaning in the location, or type of twinge, and then I address the topic it raises. And then I feel good again.

How have I changed from treating my body like subsidized housing to feeling like my body is a sumptuous place all for me?

(c) Pam Guthrie 2013 all rights reserved 08022013