Making Friends with My Body

For much of my life, I have viewed my body as something separate from myself. Sometimes I appreciated her. Often, I criticized her. There were seasons when I blamed her for every ache, every pound gained, every wrinkle, every limitation, every disappointment.

Yet lately, I have been seeing things differently.

This body of mine has been with me from the very beginning. She has carried me through childhood and adulthood. She has endured pregnancies and childbirth. She has healed from surgeries. She has weathered illness, stress, grief, fear, and heartbreak. She has navigated weight loss and weight gain, perimenopause, menopause, and now post-menopause.

She has lived through experiences I would never wish upon anyone, and still she continues to rise each morning and do her very best to carry me through another day.

For years, I focused on everything I thought she was doing wrong.

I complained when she was tired.

I judged her when she changed.

I compared her to other bodies.

I wished she looked different, moved differently, weighed less, aged more slowly.

Meanwhile, she was quietly doing everything within her power to keep me alive.

Every heartbeat. Every breath. Every wound healed. Every infection fought. Every mile walked. Every hug given. Every flower planted. Every grandchild held.

She never stopped showing up for me.

Somewhere along the way, I forgot that my body is not my enemy.

She is my oldest companion.

Perhaps it is because we live in a culture that constantly tells us our bodies are projects to fix, problems to solve, or ornaments to display. We are taught to judge ourselves through the eyes of strangers. We absorb criticism, expectations, and impossible standards until we begin speaking to ourselves in ways we would never speak to someone we love.

I do not want to do that anymore.

I want to spend whatever years I am given treating my body with the kindness and respect she deserves.

I want to become her partner.

Her protector.

Her caretaker.

Her friend.

That means learning to listen when she is tired instead of pushing through exhaustion.

It means nourishing her with wholesome food instead of punishing her with guilt.

It means taking walks because movement helps us feel alive, not because I am trying to wage war against a number on a scale.

It means drinking more water.

Getting more rest.

Strengthening the muscles that help carry me through life.

Spending time outdoors where both body and soul can breathe.

Speaking kindly about her.

Thanking her.

Forgiving her.

And perhaps most importantly, forgiving myself.

The truth is that we can get no closer to anyone than we are to our own bodies. They are with us every moment of every day. They are the homes through which we experience every sunrise, every meal, every conversation, every act of love, every season of life.

What a tragedy it is to spend a lifetime at war with the very thing that carries us through our days.

I am not interested in perfection anymore.

I am interested in partnership.

I am interested in gratitude.

I am interested in learning how to love this remarkable body that has never once given up on me.

After all these years, I think it is finally time that I become her best friend.

🌿