I am learning. Sometimes relearning, but growing nevertheless. Sometimes it’s excruciatingly painful. Sometimes it’s lovely and inspiring and amazing.
Today, it was both.
Painful and lovely. Sad and inspiring. Anxiety-ridden and amazing.
Thank you, God.
Thank you for giving me a vessel to learn in and to build relationships in and to live life in.
This body, perfectly created, has been the victim of disorder and disconnection. It is the victim of trauma and the need to survive.
The behaviors and patterns I used to survive served a purpose. Thank you, for serving that purpose. Without it, I might not be alive.
I am choosing to s h i f t.
I am choosing to lean in to help, with love at my side. With the true and full knowledge and belief that I am loved.
My body is loved. Even if I’ve hated it at every turn. Even if I’ve done everything I could to destroy it, make it smaller, and show it no love.
When I emptied it in every way possible, my body—God’s perfect creation—fought back as hard as it could, with all of its resources. It never gave up.
God never gave up.
My Wolfpack never gave up.
I never gave up. I survived. And I can choose to intentionally shift away from hating every part of myself, now, because I don’t need to merely survive anymore. I have what I needed all along.
Faith & [maternal] Love.
I have always known I needed to find these things outside of what I was given. But I never believed they existed for me until fairly recently. I’m at a loss for the right words to convey how special it is to be offered the opportunity to let go of trauma surrounded by the arms of a loving, caring, safe human being.
I felt this today—the letting go. The healing of being held through it. The little parts of me getting filled up, depression lifting, and the space for seemingly endless tears for all the emotions. I deeply felt the pain of the past and I wasn’t alone. I didn’t shutdown. I held on, and moved through it.
My body moved me through it. My therapist held that body. The body I’ve blamed for all my hurt.
My body houses everything about me in it. I want to learn how to evict the parts of me whose trauma response is to hate the vessel that does so much—those parts don’t belong any more. My body doesn’t deserve it.
All of me, in every state and size and condition, is worthy of love.