Loving my sick body
Thoughts on what it means to be strong
I’m sitting in bed in a beautiful hotel room in Scotland. The soft turquoise hydrangea wallpaper matches the colors of the window looking out over a mirror-smooth loch. Mr. Handsome is out for what was supposed to be our third day of hiking a 5-day trail through Argyll, while I wait for a taxi to bring me to our next stop. This morning, my body decided I wouldn’t go any further after having barely eaten and still walking for the past two days. After I got food poisoning on the night before our departure, I was determined not to let it stop me, and I’ve been quite amazed at how far I can push my body under the circumstances, but to keep going on mere mental strength does have its limits. This week was supposed to be a holiday after all…
It makes so much sense that I can’t go on today, but still, it feels like my body is failing me. I always thought I had a pretty healthy relationship with my body. I would rather have sex with the lights on than off. When I stand in front of a mirror naked, I am generally happy with what I see. And although I do often think I could benefit from more exercise, this is mostly aimed at feeling stronger in my body rather than looking a different way. And perhaps that’s exactly the pain point that’s been surfacing a lot lately. I’m scared that my body will fail me. And when it does, I get angry and disappointed. It happened when I called in sick with burn-out symptoms, every time I had a relapse, last year when I felt unwell during our summer vacation in Sweden and now again in Scotland. I might not show it on the outside, but deep down, I’m furious and very disappointed that I’m not strong enough to continue walking. Even though I know that listening to my body is a specific kind of strength that I should nurture, actually doing so fills me with feelings of shame and defeat. It is as if letting my body call the shots somehow makes me weak.
Where this strong judgment of my physical limits comes from, I’m not sure. Perhaps it’s the socialized idea of mind over matter. My generation was brought up with the idea that as long as we set our mind to something, we can do anything, which - as it turns out - simply isn’t very true. There are also the mind-centric self-help doctrines that tell us that as long as we think positive thoughts, we can heal our bodies and manifest any reality we want. Yes, our thoughts can have an immense effect on how we feel and experience our reality, but sadly, they can’t fix everything.
Feeling unsteady in my body actually makes me feel unsteady in my mind, even more so than it does the other way around. Being unwell away from home and its simple comforts has me question much of life’s existence. It makes me wonder where that strong young woman has gone, who’d move abroad on her own, travel the world on her own, and buy and build a home on her own. Sometimes, I feel an urge to go and find her. To prove to myself that the girl who doesn’t need anyone is still there and that I can call upon her whenever I need her. At the same time - while I do miss her courage to take on the world, her naive boldness, and her complete trust in life - I also like not having to be her all the time anymore. Maybe I’m still strong, just in a softer way. Maybe that’s what getting older is all about. Maybe I do need to work out more often. Who knows. One thing I do know is that my mind can’t solve all the riddles of life, even if it tries very hard.
So while I’m grateful for the view, the kind Scottish people who let me rest here for a bit, and the option of letting myself be driven to our next stop rather than having to walk another 28 km today, I’m also acknowledging that sometimes life doesn’t go as planned and that, for the will of god, I can’t do anything about it. I’m allowing myself to be really pissed about that for a bit, and then I’ll try to show myself some grace. I’ll try to speak some kind words to myself - as if I’m talking to a child who’s sick rather than one who needs to be disciplined. And I hope that tomorrow will be better again.