Dear Body, why do you hate me?
I take care of you. I eat healthy…except when you crave French fries or chocolate. I exercise as much as I can until you retaliate against me. You like it when we do Yoga, but you’re not so nice when I try to run. You get more massages than any other body I know, yet my neck and shoulders continue to feel like cinder blocks. I listen to you. When you tell me it’s time to sleep, I go out of my way to give you the restoration you need, no matter what time of day. I feed you medicines and vitamins to counteract the problems you are so intent on giving me. I’ve even tried detoxing from meds, but you really didn’t like that.
This is not a new thing, Body. When I was a baby you forgot how to form a valve in my heart and how to form my spine properly. You decided to give me migraines, and more often than I don’t. remember when my knee cap ended up on the side of my knee? Or when you decided that you wanted to rip apart the ligaments in that knee, the same one that grates and pop when I walk? Then there was the fun of when you decided to decorate my femur and pelvis with fractures, forcing me to walk with a cane for years. Remember when you formed a golf ball sized growth on my thyroid that impeded my breathing? Ok, fine I do have a pretty rad scar from that though. Entertaining yourself with every disease known to man, just to make the nice man from the cdc want to turn me into a new science project. That isn’t even the tip of what you have entertained yourself with. But after being quiet on the home front for a bit, being pampered, I don’t understand why you are now waking me up in the middle of the night with piercing pain and panic. Not cool, Body, not cool.
Countless drs appointments, ER trips, ambulance rides, even a stay in the ICU. Babies ripped from my body, more broken bones than I care to remember. Every day I struggle with the pain you seem so willing to give me but why? What is it im not giving you? What is it you need from me?
But now what is up with the sleep? Waking up with bruises, sore throat, scratches. Night terrors and panic attacks. Some so vivid I end up sleep walking or flailing about in bed. Even one instance where I had to be woken up cowering under the dining room table. Panicked and hiding from the memories I tried so hard to lock away but you don’t want to forget. Every subtle noise brings me back, fight or flight seems to be your favorite game to play. Why torment me so? Is the physical pain not enough?
I do give you credit, Body. You could be meaner to me. You do let me have good days. You’ve forced me to reinvent myself. And if you hadn’t started attacking me from a young age, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. All I’m asking is that we get along. Or at least be on speaking terms. Is it too much to ask for you to stop giving me new issues to worry about? Because seriously, I don’t know why you hate me!