Or I write to you.
As it is for so many, facing the self-esteem issue has been a long road for me. As a kid, I had no real solution for my severe depression. Desperately, my mind sought an outlet, and my brain latched on to my self-esteem, my physical self, and my ability to achieve, and there was (and is) a real, constant beating.
Well, the other day, I was listening to the radio, and I heard a writer talk about her body view. She told the story of when she visited a California nudist place and at this particular one, when she ventured into the sauna and glanced at the other women, she thought that they all had nearly "flawless" bodies, in terms of society's stereotypical external standards. From the Midwest, the writer had given birth to two children, and she knew she was fuller figured than any of the women there. At first, she felt like she didn't fit in at all, but then she thought about how each supposed "flaw" on her body actually represented a piece of her life story.
True, she wasn't living in a perfectly healthy way, but she had the following sudden internal revelation: if she hated her body, she also hated all of the experiences through which her body had carried her. As the heat sank in, she thought back over her life; she began to honor the ways that her body told her beautiful tale. Maybe she hadn't had time to tone up like she wanted to, but that was because she was present to raise her children and watch them grow. She hadn't always treated her body well, but it still continued to perform for her. Without retaliation or resentment, her body had selflessly continued to give back. It represented who she was, and she realized that she had to love this outside shell in order to honor her whole being. If she were going to feel complete, she knew she had to forgive herself and love the physical form that had carried her on her journey thus far.
Listening, I thought about the ways that I've daily picked apart my body. But these strong arms, strong legs, and good balance kept me safe while riding horses for many years. And later, this body carried me through yoga. My body has carried me through great trauma, as well as great healing. With this body, I have given talks to thousands of people. With these arms, I have hugged many people and animals. Maybe my voice or smile helped someone laugh. Maybe I helped to save a life. The woman’s words echoed in my mind. If she hated her body, she also hated all of the experiences through which her body had carried her. I was reminded that my body is a vessel that represents the richness present in my life and with this physical self, I have felt and expressed love, and isn’t that why we are here?
C.A. MacConnell
