I’ll admit, I was afraid to share openly about these very personal topics for years. It still feels edgy. And yet, I’ve long yearned to let these experiences breathe and be known. Today, I want to claim my own story.
My Body and I
When I was about thirteen, I noticed that my belly had grown a visible smattering of dark hair. I was horrified, and felt like a freak. “Girls aren’t supposed to grow hair there”, I thought. “There’s something wrong with me.”
After finally getting permission from my mom to shave my legs, I started going wild removing hair from other areas of my body where I felt it did not belong. “Those blonde girls and their cute peach fuzz”, I thought. “They have no idea how lucky they are”. Later, I’d realize that everyone has their own body-related hangups, their own ways of wishing their skin/ hair/ butt/ you-name-it was more like someone else’s. At the time, I loathed how quickly my thick, dark hair would grow, and how prickly it’d be when it came in.
In high school and college, I coveted others’ more “feminine”-looking bodies and the way they seemed to be able to make any outfit look good. Thinking about how flat my chest was pained me, and I hated that a skin condition I had caused the pigmentation on my back to look spotty. It didn’t matter that the skin condition was benign. My physical appearance disappointed me. I avoided the beach for years, so I wouldn’t have to be seen in a swimsuit.
Conflicted Feelings
I was hyper focused on my flaws, and spent so much time and energy trying to correct what I thought was wrong with my body. At one point, I decided that sharing a home with a future partner would be impossible. I couldn’t tolerate the idea of allowing someone, especially a lover, to get close enough to see my flaws revealed. I needed to be able to hide my flaws, to keep secret the great lengths I went through to look normal.
I didn’t believe it when I heard that one of the heartthrobs of my high school had a crush on me. In true high-school fashion, he sent a friend to deliver this message—while he was sitting 20 feet away, too shy to tell me himself. I couldn’t even consider the possibility that someone like him would be attracted to me when I felt so imperfect. I rejected the invitation without thinking.
I can see how I had a habit of denying myself the opportunity for connection, and pushing away people who didn’t reflect my view of myself—someone unworthy of love and acceptance.
Early Adult Life
Later, as an adult, I found myself treating my body like a machine. I made it do what I wanted, typically spending long hours on my computer—both in the office, and after returning home. Self-care, or my attempts at such, consisted primarily of treating myself to good eats, sleeping in on weekends, online education and shopping. I bought and returned so many items in my first few years of being a working professional, I was a burgeoning retail therapy addict.
My sense of self-worth and my identity were tied up in the job I had as an engineer. I struggled with feelings of inadequacy, in more ways than one. While it wasn’t all work and no play—I took myself on occasional backpacking trips in beautiful places like Yosemite—I’d push myself a little too intensely on these outdoor excursions, trying to show myself I had a life outside of work, one that was balanced. All the hard work I did was an effort to prove myself.
Though I was no longer an embarrassed teen, I was still disconnected from my body. The ignorance I had about my body’s needs when I was younger had not been overcome; I was still largely unaware. At the same time, some part of me knew where I might be headed if I continued down this path—I had a nagging fear of calcifying as I aged, hardening into a stony mass of muscle and tissue that could no longer move.
In 2014, when my bodily aches and pains became chronic, I could no longer ignore them, and I was forced to confront the truth: I was not healthy. Not physically, not mentally or emotionally. “I can’t do this anymore”, I thought. “How did it get so bad?”
Looking Back
What seemed like a health crisis was really part of a larger spiritual crisis for me. I didn’t know how to break out of the painful existence I had bought into and helped create for myself. When I looked within, the message echoing inside was “I’m deeply unhappy. Where’s the meaning in my life?”, and my body was at the intersection of it all.
Choosing New Ways
It was on the dance floor that I noticed my knee really hurt when I moved from the floor to a standing position. Previously, I would have brushed this off as a fleeting annoyance. But because dancing helped me be more “in my body”, more in touch with myself, I had the capacity to recognize that this was a serious issue I needed to address—I couldn’t ignore it anymore, especially if I wanted to continue dancing without pain.
Just as ignoring my body lead to a vicious cycle of isolation and poor health, taking care of my body lead to a positive cycle: I signed myself up for massage therapy training and learned my body was something to be kind to and enjoy; making a habit of daily exercise gave me a reliable way to feel good and stay connected with my body; my relationship with Toby has helped me internalize the fact that there is nothing wrong with me and I am lovable, just as I am.
Resourcing the Body
One day in 2016, I found myself standing nude in front of a crowd of fifty-some other people. I was baring it all at a workshop for helping people embrace their bodies, and when a volunteer was requested, I knew it needed to be me. As I slowly turned and allowed myself to make eye contact with the many onlookers, something in me broke open; what came rushing out was a flood of tears, a lifetime of pent-up emotions, and overwhelming relief.
Where before I had isolated myself in order to hide my insecurities and flaws, I now felt I could connect with others from a place of vulnerability, by revealing myself and my experience in all honesty. As I felt more and more accepted by my fellow humans, I realized that this was only possible because I had begun to accept my own self more fully, and allow myself to show up and be seen. It was never about being flawless.
Becoming aware of my body, and building a tight-knit relationship with it, has been the most impactful act of my life thus far. I’m not perfect and I still experience challenges with my body, but what I’ve learned about allowing the body to be a guide, ally, and resource is too good to keep to myself. I know that many of us have wounds around body image, or they way we treat ourselves, and now I feel that this is part of my calling—to help others connect more deeply to themselves and their communities through caring for their bodies.
***
Being embodied comes naturally to us.
With all the time we spend leading with our intellect, though, is it any wonder that most of us could use balancing out?
To help nourish the balance of our whole selves, here are five creative embodiment practices I’m excited to share with you. Consider this a starting point, and please feel welcome to share & adapt. For best results, practice regularly, stay curious and reflect on your experiences with others.
Speaking of which, I’d love to hear about your experiences!
“OMG.. this dog is dying!”, I thought to myself at 1 a.m. on a Monday night. When I picked Buffy up from the dog hotel earlier that evening, I’d noticed that her belly looked a bit swollen. She seemed otherwise fine at the time – energetic, interested in food, and excreting waste, as usual. I did some research anyways to inform myself about the possible health risks of canine bloating. Little did I know what hard-hitting insights were to come.
At bedtime, when she suddenly began panting and behaving in a subdued manner, I grew concerned. It seemed very possible she had GDV (the life-threatening type of canine bloat) and might not make it through the night without prompt medical attention. As I waited late in the night for the foster agency to approve my request to take her to the emergency room, I watched her closely, stroked her gently, and I’ll admit – got watery-eyed at one point.
Although she seemed to show only a couple key symptoms of GDV, I wasn’t about to let my first dog – foster or not – take her chances if I there was something I could do about it. And so, after a trip to the local animal ER in the wee hours, I learned what was wrong with her.
She was simply, and there isn’t really an elegant way to say this, full of sh*t and food.
**FACEPALM**
Initial Thoughts
Thinking back, I recalled that Buffy’s been pretty ready to go to the bathroom when I’ve picked her up the other few times she’s stayed at the dog hotel. I suspected she might be “holding it in”, though this wasn’t a particularly long stay, and I hadn’t observed any bloating after her previous stays. What concerned me, was that her belly distension didn’t seem to improve after a walk and a bowel movement, she didn’t seem to need to go again during our later pre-bedtime walk, and her condition appeared to take a distinct turn for the worse.
In summary, Buffy ended up having four sets of bowel movements in the sixteen hours since I picked her up from the dog hotel—once before our trip to the animal ER, once right after, and twice during our first walk the following day. These were four sizable droppings (yikes! poor thing), especially for a dog of her size. She’s a sweet little senior peanut of a chihuahua mix, about as large as a house cat.
Getting Schooled
As distressing and troublesome as the experience was for me – not to mention, majorly uncomfortable for Buffy, I’m so glad that I pursued the better-safe-than-sorry option AND that it turned out to be a best-case scenario.
In one sense, this “false alarm” was an exercise in practicing my observational skills, using my best judgement, and engaging in emergency protocols. The obvious lesson learned, was that my pooch is potty-trained to a fault, and that I would need to advise the dog hotel staff of her need for outdoor potty walks when boarding her. As I realized, the underlying lesson is:
Sometimes we are too well trained to “hold it in” and be polite, much to the detriment of our own health and wellness.
Bringing more awareness to our inclinations to “hold it in” – in doggo’s case, her biological needs; in my case, speaking my truth – can help prevent us from getting seriously backed up and ill, physically, emotionally, and beyond. As such, here are some questions to consider:
- When do you find yourself “holding it in”?
- What benefits & challenges do you experience as a result of this behavior?
- How might you like to respond instead of “holding it in”, and what would help you feel safe or empowered enough to do so?
Noticing an urge to “hold it in” is a potent place to start.
Please feel welcome to share your thoughts in the comments section at the bottom of this post.
Part II of this article to come…!