I completely love and trust my body. It has brought me so much joy to come to that realization, feeling like I have returned home at long last. But that is a statement I would not have been able to say just a few years ago. My early life experiences were not what I would call encouraging of this sort of self-trust and bodily acceptance. In fact, most of my formative years were filled with loud and intrusive messages and teachings that outright shamed and discouraged a loving, trusting relationship with my body.
False religious teachings about the “sinful” nature of my body, and damning warnings against my joy and pleasure. Harmful church doctrines that made me believe that my existence is a problem to God. Cultural conditioning that repeatedly objectified me. A family culture of disordered eating, abusive behavior, overworking, and prioritizing outward opinions over remaining true to what is right. Fifteen years spent in absolute dedication to a sport where ignoring my body’s urgent messages of pain were praised. Fifteen years spent believing that my body was the problem, and to become worthy of love, acceptance, and success I needed constant training, fixing, and denial of needs so I could push myself harder. Almost twenty years of living with an incurable autonomic nervous system disorder that severely limits how I am able to live and constantly threatens the quality of my life. For most of my life, I have been hypervigilant about not letting the humanity of my earthly home show herself. That hypervigilance naturally began to shift into self-hatred, self-doubt, self-harm, and intense distrust. And my body began to not trust me in return. And as a way to cope and desperately grab my attention, she became sick. She learned that I would not help her, so she began to shut down, instantly activating an ancient, primal collapse stress response at the first sign of any amount of perceived stress. Certain people, certain tasks, a shift in my breathing, a sort of held tension, a particular environment - all triggered my body to begin to prepare for her death. It's heartbreaking to admit to the truth of it all; to finally turn and face my body, asking her to tell me her account of my life. When I began to incorporate yoga into my healing journey, I noticed how my body had learned to mirror this state of hypervigilance back to me. She was constantly on guard against me, not trusting me to take care of her. She had learned overtime that I was not safe, and that I was not listening to her urgent messages of need, love, and acceptance. I learned that she had been carrying the load of my traumas, and she was desperate to feel safe and release the somatic memories of all that we have lived through together. Overtime, I began to learn to listen to her. What is curious about a genuine yoga practice is that it repeatedly asks you to respect the limits and abilities of the body. It demands that I do not abandon her at the door. It first demands that I listen to her, always. I’ll never forget the first few years of my practice and how this realization had dawned on me. It was as if I was living in darkness, and a radiant beam of light had finally burst through. My whole life, my body was the problem. But here, on my mat, in my practice, she is my greatest ally. As I remained dedicated to my healing journey, my body slowly began to trust me again. Overtime by repeatedly showing up to the mat, she learned that I am listening. I showed her that I am ready to feel her sensations of anger, grief, loneliness, sadness, and fear, and that I will not abandon her with these feelings. She began to trust moments of joy, and open herself wide to new sensations of pleasure. She began to trust that I will give her rest when she needs it. She began to feel confident taking up space in my life with things that make me feel more alive. With time, she grew confident to teach me as well. She taught me how to know when I’ve reached my limits. She has taught me that just because I can do something, doesn’t mean that I should. She has taught me that my rest is sacred, and that I am worthy of rest. She has taught me that my bodily intuition is always right. She has taught me which people, places, foods, and activities are right for me, and which ones are not. She has shown me that Divine Love isn’t somewhere “out there”, but an essence that lives within me, as me, and that I can access this blissful cavern of Divine Consciousness through a loving union with my own body. Now, whenever I have a new or recurring ache or pain or injury, or need to troubleshoot a lingering issue, my response to my body is this: what do I need to hear? What is going to help you? What energy or stored trauma needs to be released? Sometimes the responses I get back from her can be validated by Western allopathic medical research and advice, and sometimes it cannot. But one thing remains true: she is always right. My body has time and time again shown me that she always knows the way. Everytime we troubleshoot an issue together, I’m always amazed that at the core of the problem lies a life or spiritual lesson I needed to learn. She truly is my partner in every way. The more I listen, the more she trusts me. The more she trusts me, the more she supports me in fully living the life I came to this earth to live. My body is my incredibly beautiful and perfect home. And I am so glad that I get to experience my life through her. At long last, I can finally say it: I completely love and trust my body.
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Katherine HansonWelcome! This is the home for a selection of my latest musings and reflections, as well as news and event announcements. Archives
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