On Forging a Relationship with Your Body
Experiencing the body as vessel for life > grounds for war
In April, I shared an image on Instagram. The image was of my body, on a swing, smiling in front of a sunset over the water.
That night, I was on a beautiful property near water, swaying to music with my partner, surrounded by family and new friends. The night was perfect.
We snapped some photos, and after the night as I scrolled through the images, the first thing I saw was my hips. I thought I looked “big.” I thought, “wow, I’ve gained weight” and immediately went into a shame spiral.
Forget the sunset, the smile on my face, the moment captured.
The sunset forgotten, the moment captured.
Shame told me, “I should work out more,” “I don’t get enough steps,” “I should eat more protein, less carbs.”
All I saw was what was wrong with my body, and my pitfalls as a person.
Our culture places a ton of morality on what it means to have a “good” body. If I don’t look like x, I’m a failure. If I look like y, I’m a success.
And in that moment, where shame swelled in my body, I forgot what it actually meant to have a body, my body. The body that carried me to an evening of listening to live music with my love, swinging on a (questionable) swing at sunset, dancing and swaying as the excitement of new sounds bubbled up in my being.
This body is where I have experienced my entire life up until this point, and where I will continue to experience life until it’s time for me to give this body back.
Our bodies are our signature for life. Where we experience love, heartache, joy, and sorrow. Our bodies are the playgrounds, where we will experience everything life has for us—the good, the harrowing.
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I was at the peak of my eating disorder during the Winter of 2013. My infatuation with food and body was coupled alongside health anxiety—If only I could conquer this body thing, portraying the perfect image of health, then maybe my body would be a safe place to inhabit, an okay place to be.
While orthorexia isn’t acknowledged in the DSM, it’s characterized by an obsession with “health” and mass distress when seemingly “unhealthy” circumstances arise.
I would break down and cry if I didn’t make it to the gym, and become overwhelmingly tense if I didn’t have full control over the food in front of me. Exercise and food was restrictive—I saw everything as a balancing game between caloric intake and deficit.
2013 was also the year I decided to study health sciences. A part of me very much believed that maybe I could master my health, and help others do the same. Today, in 2023, a part of me cringes for the 18 year old who wanted to teach her disorder to others. And another part of me sighs with compassion. She had no idea.
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Since my undergrad, I’ve certainly pivoted toward greater body appreciation. But something far more valuable to me than body positivity—or even neutrality—is the relationship I have with my body.
The phrase, “I’m so much more than my body” rings less and less true for me these days. To be more than my body implies a type of distancing, mind over matter, I think therefore I am.
I’m more interested in being in dialogue with my body. I’m here for you body. What do you need from me body? What are you trying to say? I love you body. I’m sorry body. I’m listening body.
I share this not to say I’m over any grips with my body. I struggles at times, too. Yet, I’m committed to being in conversation with my body; to hear her, and to be willing enough to listen when she needs.
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So much of the healing “work” is forging a relationship with Self. I think it’s time our bodies were held in this consideration, body as Self and Self as body.
Fortunately, my career aspirations no longer include sprinkling my disordered thoughts around like confetti. Some of my most heart-led work includes supporting women as they navigate fluctuating bodies and identities; how their longing and authenticity bumps up against familial and societal conditioning; how we find a way back to our bodies, a way back to ourselves.
Many of us dream of a life far more expansive than the objectifications of our body and appearance, yet are trapped like birds in a cage. Our desires die alongside the unmet beauty standards. I know I felt this way in 2013, the years leading up to, and in the many of years that followed.
Here’s to meandering our way back home, toward a relationship with body as Self.
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Go Deeper
Write a letter to your body, asking the voice of judgement, or shame to step aside as you write. Begin with “Dear body, …”
Find a moment to pause, maybe while eating your favourite food, at your favourite park, or while listening to a song you like. Notice what it’s like for your body to experience that food, place, or song.
