bodies

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I was invisible, but I am not that girl anymore

I have to write once more for this blog for my grade. I’m highly motivated by grades, so despite feeling as though I have nothing to say, here I am, typing. I thought maybe I’d write about how we adjust to our unique bodily abnormalities (I don’t love this word, but I’m at a loss for another). I thought about sharing my husband’s experience of processing the bodies of fallen soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan, the forced emotional detachment he took on as body after body found its way on a table before him, waiting to be readied to head home in a plain wooden box, back to the states and no doubt a family that would never recover their loss. I thought about sharing the moment my friend, whose son died an hour after birth, told me she can’t bear to hold sleeping babies because it feels too much like holding a dead baby, and how that statement, so matter-of-fact for her, knocked the wind out of me and ripped a hole in my heart for her, right beside the one that grew as her belly swelled with the baby we both knew wouldn’t survive. Somehow, none of these felt like things I wanted to share. And as I stared at the screen, thinking, “I have nothing to say,” I recalled (with the help of some online diary entries) a time in my life when I had the reverse problem: so, so much to say, and no one to listen. And I knew. Despite how very little (very, very little) I want to share this story about myself, I need to. I owe it to my own slow recovery, the future of my children, and the potential readers who’ve maybe been here too. So, here we go.

*Deep breath* *Deep breath*

I don’t generally ascribe labels to myself (they are relentlessly negative), but most people who know feel comfortable placing “emotional” over my picture. It’s a fair assessment. As long as I can remember, I’ve been an emotional girl/woman. I cry a lot, sometimes for justified reasons (see above), sometimes because I’m easily overwhelmed by emotions. I hurt a lot, and for me, emotional pain is easily manifested physically. In times I’ve had my heart broken, I have felt an ache in my chest that made it hard to breathe. It is this essential truth about me that led me down the path of self-injury. And this truth that kept me under its weight for over 10 years. If you need a trigger warning, consider yourself warned. There won’t be images, but this will probably hurt.  Continue reading →

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Should I go on a run today?

I haven’t been feeling great about my body lately.  It’s because I’ve been spending so much time at my desk or hunched over a book (thanks, finals).  But it’s also because I haven’t been able to wear my favorite pair of jeans since I got back from my time abroad (where I ate everything I wanted because cultural experience!).  I’m telling myself not to let a pair of pants make me feel this way about my body, but I’m feeling it. Continue reading →

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Family Ties

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LOVE!

This Thanksgiving break, I went to visit my family in Webster, New York. We do this every year, making the six-hour drive from Annapolis to the upstate NY area, right on the edge of Lake Ontario. It’s beautiful, and it’s cold. Apparently, I am also cold, because I find it really difficult to connect with my cousins, even though I love them to pieces (as you can see in the photo above).

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shield your eyes

Someone told me once that lighter colored eyes–the blues and greens and greys–are more sensitive to the sun than darker eyes, and the reason for this is the way that irises scatter and transmit light into the retina. For me, stepping out into the sun each day is so rough. I groan and gripe to myself every morning while attempting to shield my eyes until they’ve adjusted to what always seems like the most brutal brightness.   Continue reading →

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The Internalized Body

I have to say, there is something incredibly inspirational about some of my classmates. A majority of them seem to be very comfortable and open with talking about bodies. It’s amazing how some people have this ability to say what they feel, and not only that, but say it in such a way that is full of sincere conviction.

This is not something I have, which is why these posts are such a nightmare for me.

I am the internalized body. I am the churning and stewing of the abstract held together in skin. I’m bad at voicing things about bodies at all. Who am I, anyhow, to even have an opinion on someone else’s body? Or to have a general thought at all? The internalized body doesn’t think this way, no, it is far more concerned with eating away at its own guilt.

The good thing about the internalized body is that it can live off its own energy. Far too concerned with the inner demands of self-regulation, constant calculation and extreme analysis, this body comes off aloof and unaware to other bodies. Unless, perhaps, this body dares to compare itself to another body leading to a subsequent re-analysis.

The internalized body is a shell that doesn’t leave room for leakage. It’s a product of its environment, no matter what the substance is inside. This body is never going to let you in on a fear or a worry. No, this body is wound snug. If one thing gets out, the mess will follow, so its better to keep it all in. This body is here to please and protect. It’s a paradox of looking the part on the outside while keeping the true body on the inside safe.

I wish I could be that true body. That fearless, open, wonderful body. I wish I could be the body that moves and shakes, dances and achieves, doesn’t aim to please and doesn’t mind to offend.

Alas, I am the internalized body. And I need to keep it all in.

 

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The Girl That Fat Built

So much of my identity has been shaped by my body and the way the world around me has treated it that I often find myself wondering, “If I’d had a different body, who would I be now?”

Some of my earliest painful memories are of becoming aware of my weight as an issue—my parents’ noticeable concern for my young and rapidly changing body, being called fat by my peers, the inability to share clothes with friends, the list goes on.

As my fat seemed to be under attack by the world around me, I subconsciously began to fashion armor around it. My attempts at protecting myself began with denial, not letting myself believe I was a “fat kid.” At eight years old, I still had the sense that I was fantastic and beautiful and I wasn’t ready to give that up. However, as people grew meaner and more eager to inform me that I wasn’t as beautiful as I thought I was, I came to a sort of sad acceptance.

But because I was a rambunctious and attention-seeking kid, I decided that maybe I could use being fat to my advantage. Continue reading →

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Ugh, I’m sick: Flu, strep, flep?

     Since we’re talking about unruly bodies, I’m going to take some time to talk about how unruly the bodies in this house have been this week. Let’s start with mine.

     Monday: I’m fine. It’s like every other day. By the time I’m ready for bed, my throat is a little sore. I figure it is probably nothing, worst case scenario the start of a cold. Who hasn’t been there? I am mistaken. Sleep eludes me that night (and many that follow). I must have a high fever because I have vivid, lifelike dreams about real life things (I am talking to Kelly about my bad resume in one… in another I receive a package I’ve been waiting on but I misplace it… and in another I forget to write a paper… ok, so these are nightmares). These dreams are clear fever indicators for me because my body always reacts to high fevers with dreams so real that I never know when I’m awake or sleeping. I keep getting out of bed, wandering the house looking for that package, wondering when I’ll fix my resume and trying to remember which paper I’ve forgotten. If it sounds fun, it isn’t. If it sounds more like hallucinations, it probably is. I “wake up” feeling more exhausted than when I laid down. My joints ache, from my knees and elbows to each individual knuckle. My head throbs. My throat feels raw and tingly. I feel like I can’t get myself out of bed. There is just an overwhelming sense of ickiness that I still can’t explain that makes me feel both like I should stay in bed, and like I should head to the doctors… Continue reading →