A love letter to my body

This is long overdue...

How is it that I used to stand in front of the mirror, wet from the shower and feel disappointment?

How is it that I’d find nothing but fault? Softening belly, wrinkled skin, scars and cellulite, parched dry skin and age spots, random hairs appearing in places I’d rather they didn’t?

Why is it that I used to eat and drink things I knew didn’t make me feel great but did it as a way to numb some emotional pain or other?

How is it that I never once appreciated your beauty when I was younger? Breasts were never quite the right shape, stomach was never quite flat enough, waist never quite slim enough, bottom never quite round enough. Never once did I thank you and show gratitude, not even for carrying and growing three babies in my belly. I’m sorry I showed such disrespect.

It took breast cancer for me to stop and give thanks, to finally appreciate you. I am in awe now. I love you fiercely and will never again judge or criticise you. I celebrate each line and wrinkle as signs of victory and a life fully lived. I celebrate each new grey hair and am grateful that it grew back stronger and curlier after chemotherapy.

I’m grateful for my scars for they show me the journey I have been on. I massage them with tenderness and love. I look after my feet each evening, I show gratitude and am grateful for they carry me every day. I wear comfortable shoes for goodness sake!

My body, you have been trying to teach me all my life, you’ve sent me messages over the years. Sometimes I’ve listened, other times I wasn’t ready. The insistence got louder, the lump could no longer be ignored. You’ve taught me to look inward, to slow down, to rest, to be mindful, to be deliberate. I believe that the cancer was your way of getting my attention, to teach me about love, self love and self compassion. My focus had always been on others and not myself. Yet, how could I love others so wholly and completely without doing the same for myself?

What if you’ve given me the greatest gift?

I’m slowly seeing the blessings in it all. Reflecting back on 12 months ago to my very lowest point. My body, you were screaming, no more chemo, you’d had enough. The panic attack which I thought was a stroke was another message from you. I floated for a while, sometimes on Diazepam, drifting. I truly surrendered, you showed me how. I waved the white flag. This was when I stopped being so terrified of living. Thank you. I saw that I didn’t have to be so damn strong. I could exhale. I could cry for god’s sake. I could release it all. The tumour was gone. This was my greatest lesson. There was more to come for sure. Surgery, more chemo and radiotherapy but I felt softer. I felt more relaxed. I could come through this. I knew that now. I had heard you. Finally.

Mary Oliver’s poem Wild Geese kept coming into my mind, she’d got me out of tight spots before. It touches me now as I reread it, ‘you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves’. Are these not the words that our body longs for us to understand?

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on.

Mary Oliver

And I wake today too with yet another realisation. Yes, the deep appreciation for you my human body as a machine. I am also living this human experience in a female body with its softness and curves, with breasts and womb, ovaries and vagina. I have neglected this fact. I realise I have lived in an androgynous body much of my life, ignoring the sensuality of this feminine body. There has been shame for sure, the very heavy burden of the Catholic church bearing down and calling out the female body as sinful. What a waste, what a terrible shame.

I want to appreciate you now, I want to dance and move, to celebrate you, to decorate you, to show gratitude for all you’ve done for me. I’m in deep awe and appreciation for the three babies that grew within my body. How lucky and privileged am I?

You’ve been teaching me all along, you’ve kept me safe by sending early warning signals, so many have gone unanswered by my brain. I’m now tuning into my heart and my gut. Thank you.

I will never again look in the mirror and feel disappointment. I look in the mirror now and feel nothing but love and awe and the greatest of respect.

I will move you every day. I will feed you well and most importantly I will enjoy you and celebrate you my amazing body. I’m so grateful to be living out this human experience in you.

I love you and I am listening. I make you that promise.

Rebecca x