A Letter to my Body

Dear Body:

Today you decided that you have had enough of my abuse. I recently said to Laura Brown that I have been neglecting you, but that’s not true, is it? No, I’ve been hearing your screams begging me to stop certain things — but continued to do them anyway.

You tried to tell me once before. You had been asking me for a conversation when I got into an abusive relationship, but I ignored you — even though you had shut down my womanhood — until you screamed into my brain for me to literally, stop — with a stroke.

Today I had 8 cups of coffee. Even though you don’t like coffee. And then I added in some natural stuff to calm you down. I figured, instead of confronting the root of the issue — my abuse — I would do another quick fix to shut you up.

But you’re tired of my quick fixes, aren’t you?

Now, as I write this from my bed, feeling your discomfort, unable to move, tears streaming down my face — half your relief and half my shame — I remember. I remember the times you’ve begged for sleep and I’ve prioritized others’ opinions of me. I remember the times you’ve begged for water and I’ve sadistically taken dehydrating substances. I remember the times you’ve begged for mercy as I dealt blow, after blow, after blow.

But most of all: I remember that you are the best friend I’ve ever had. The type of friend I’ve been looking for, but who was with me all along. You carried me and held me when I hated you for not being beautiful enough, for not being strong enough. You moved gracefully despite the drone of my incessant criticism at how your movements weren’t the way I wanted them to be. You supported me when I showed nothing but anger and meanness to you.

I spend so much time trying to be good to the world but I forgot to be good to the one who needs me most.

I’m sorry. I love you. I need you.
Thank you for showing me how to be a friend. Now, it’s my turn.

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