A letter to me

January 28, 2009

Probably sitting down to blog after I just had a rough time in the bathroom is not the best of ideas. Oh well. My stomach is rolling right now - I shouldn't have drank OJ with my dinner - too acidic. I have a feeling I'm going to be paying for that all night long. My obliques are sore from pushing so much when I have bowel movements. I honestly don't know what's happening to me physically when I go to the bathroom, but it's so exhausting - my whole body shakes to the point that my teeth almost rattle. Too many gritty details? Sorry. This is my life.

I have had a pretty good day today. Yes, a couple of knock out rounds in the bathroom that wiped me out, but I got back up on my feet to face the world in a relatively quick amount of time afterward.

I have these recurring dreams sometimes where I'm swimming in these large swimming pools. I'm swimming deep in the water. My body is light and my motions are fluid. I don't even have to think about air. There are always other people around me, but they don't get in my way. They seem to be enjoying themselves and let me be in my own space.

For me, right now, to know that I could go to sleep tonight and have that dream; it would be a gift. If for just a moment in a dream my body could float and move and just be, just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes.

I've been seeing my body as the enemy these days. When I used to work as a therapist and had clients who were dealing with eating disorders, one of the assignments I would give them between sessions would be to write a letter to their bodies. I was thinking about that on my drive home today. I was trying to view myself from outside of me. There are things I wanted to say, and things I wanted to hear:

Dear Abby,

You, dear girl, don't have to be so strong. Let go. Let go of every expectation you have of yourself as you go through this labor and birth into this new you. Let those expectations turn to a gentle mist and blow past you. If the droplets touch you, let them cool you.

I want to take the empty space in your heart and warm it with orange and yellow. Oh that I could wrap my arms around you and calm you and soothe your thoughts till they slow to a dripping molasses. I want to paint every scar on your body in beautiful colors so you won't be reminded of the pain; so you'll only see the beauty that is coming. And it is coming tired one. A new beauty you've never known. Let go of the ravaged clay that you knew as beauty. Loosen your fearful, painful, grip and let go. It will all be okay. You'll see. It will all be okay.

Love and peace and joy,
Me