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A Letter to My Body
Note: As part of my practice for this past week of expanding my tenderly loving relationship with my body, I wrote it a love letter. You can use it as a jumping-off point for your own love letter to yourself.
My dear Body,
I’m sorry. I feel that’s where this has to start. Even before any explanation of what I’m sorry for.
I’m so sorry.
I told you that the other night, but I know I have to tell you again because I’ve neglected you for so long and so casually. That’s not OK. That’s not what friends do. You haven’t been important to me. I’ve treated you like you’re nothing more than an extension of me without your own needs or rights, without your own story or life. It hasn’t helped that lots of people around us share this understanding of you. They don’t consider your autonomy a thing. And even though I do, I find it hard to remember to think in such terms.
I’m just not used to it, you see. Of course, you do. You see everything. You’re always there. It’s easy to overlook you, to use you and to think of you purely as a utility, of what you can do for me. And even the things I do for you, I think of in terms of how they will serve me later, like walking you around or taking you to the gym. Sigh. I’m determined to do better.
The past two days have proven, yet again, that this is the right path. Since I started to hear you with tenderness when you indicate what does and doesn't feel right to you, since I’ve resumed my old habit of telling you that I love you, I’m suddenly happy again. It’s that happiness I cherish so much that’s caused by the simple fact that you and I are alive.
I’m so grateful to you. I’ve been putting you under a lot of stress over the past two years. The least I can do is to love and appreciate you. And make a habit of asking you what you want. I must remember to keep this going because, historically, you will put up with almost anything and won’t remind me, except to get sick now and then when I run you low.
Thank you for carrying me, for homing me, for caring for me, for living this life with me. I couldn’t do it without you.
Thank you for being my beautiful loving body.
I love you.
Henry India Holden
I write about the divineness of life in its many forms. Writer, artist, spiritual director, life coach, tarotist. Nonbinary.