Hello body, it’s your soul talking.
I know we haven’t always been on great terms, but please hear me out… I’m not going to beat around the bush: there have been days I didn’t like you very much.
At times, you have brought me pain, stress, discomfort, disease. And I let my frustration control me. I acted out. I was very harsh with you. I was raised better than that, and I apologize.
I regret a lot. I’m flawed, oh so very much. But I’m sorry and I love every part of you. I want to move forward, body. I am so grateful that you surround me. That you keep me safe and give me a place to call home while I’m on this earth.
I hope you’ll accept this love letter to you.
To The Body I Love Dearly:
I woke today and thought, “I’m alive!!” I breathed deeply and let out a sigh. I know I’m here because of you and all you do.
There are so many parts of you I want to send my love to. Let’s start at the top.
To my hair:
We’ve been through a lot together. You’ve been long, short, and everything in between. Remember that time when I was a model in a hair show and you were turned into Mohawk? Remember how we “fixed” it by shaving it all off and dying it brown so you couldn’t see my pale scalp peeking through? Remember when we tried to dye it back to my natural blonde and my scalp had gotten burned and inflamed from the severe dye, and instead of honoring you as you were, I wore a wig? Thank you for always sticking it through. Thank you for growing back in your beautiful golden state, and giving me back my confidence. And most importantly, thank you for becoming thin and frail, and for falling out, while I was at my sickest. When you found the strength to let go and began to leave my body, it became clear how sick I had become. Because of you I was able to start to turn off autopilot and take care of myself. Thank you.
To my eyes:
I often hear that I can’t hide anything because you always tell the truth. My fiancee loves you. Eyes, you’re so wide and curious, but I have been told multiple times that you appear sad because you take on the pain of the rest of the world. Big, blue eyes, with your long eyelashes, thank you for allowing me to see the beauty in life. Because of you, I’m able to see into my own soul. Thank you for allowing sparkles to shine and tears to fall. Thank you for expressing my heart when words fail me.
To my mouth:
You give me the gift of kissing my loved ones. You give me the gift of communication with those around me. There have been times, many times when I wish you hadn’t said what you said, but together, we’re learning. Thank you for your bright smile, for your loud and often disruptive laugh, and for the gift of the spoken word. You have opened yourself up to others to share how dark your days were becoming, with the hope that you are helping others by sharing your story. Thank you for the beauty of your expressions.
To my stomach:
We’ve had some tough times. Remember when they diagnosed you with Helicobacter pylori? I always thought you didn’t work as if it was a choice, as though you were refusing to do your only job. I forgot you were struggling too. You probably felt accomplished when you digested something, and instead of being grateful for when you worked, I only focused on when you were in pain. You deserved better. Please forgive me for the years of distrust. For the lack of nourishment, I failed to give you. From now on we’re a team. Always.
To my hips:
You’ve been through so much, friend. You’ve been broken and healed after being struck by a moving vehicle. You taught me that when I feel your pain, I can love more, care for myself better, and become one again. When you ache during cold, rainy weather, you remind me of all we’ve been overcome. When you stretch deep and open into yoga poses, you remind me of all that we’ve accomplished together. Thank you for reminding me to stand tall, to believe in myself, and to know my strength.
To my legs:
I used to despise you, and I’m sorry. I used to think you were too short, too big, and too pale. You’ve given me the gift of movement. You have allowed me to ride horses, to walk, to run – and when the doctors and specialists told me that you won’t be the same again due to the accident; that I can’t run or jump or do high-impact movements anymore, I’m grateful that you helped me prove them wrong, and that together we can still do all those things with mindfulness. You show the scars of what we’ve been through together. You shared the pain, and you’ve worked hard to continue to give me an amazing life. You’re so strong; you carry me gracefully through my yoga practice, and through my daily life. Thank you for your strength.
Body, this letter could go on forever, but frankly, I just want to say that you’re amazing. There have been many years that I’ve taken you for granted. Your flaws are your beauty because they have made you strong. You work so hard, you accept so much pain, you overcome challenges, and you never ever give up on me.
Thank you for always being there.
With all my love,
The soul that you house inside.
Originally written by Danielle in 2015.