Body Talk

The voice comes unbidden.  “Get up, get up, get up!” I must heed.  It is as though this isn’t really me, but some Other; a small, but insistent creature that lives inside me.  I’m not sure it’s there all the time.  Maybe it is.

Sometimes it sings.  Sometimes it speaks.  Sometimes it is just a whisper. Sometimes it makes me do things that really aren’t in the best interest of my body. “More cookies!” “Have another glass of wine!” “Sit.  Read.  You’re tired.”  My body seems to have no voice.  Or rather, my body’s voice is not speaking in words.  If my body could talk, it would probably say, “Move, dammit!  Use it or lose it!”

I am not listening.  Or, I just don’t hear it because it’s in a silent language.  The language is Fatigue. Its nouns and verbs are aches and pains. Fatigue is a hard language to understand.  Sometimes I translate incorrectly. Often I know exactly, but I put my fingers in my ears and say “Lalalalala, I can’t hear you.”

My body fights back. It has its way with me:

It gets heavy.  Sluggish. Gravity insists on pulling down on me.  I keep thinking, if I spent more time upside down, could I reverse the effects?

It gets diseased.  A couple years ago it yelled really loudly: “YOU HAVE CANCER!  HELP ME!”  And now:  “YOU HAD CANCER!  IT COULD COME BACK!  EAT SOME KALE! TAKE A WALK!

I am forced to respond. Ok, ok, ok!  Sheesh. Pipe down, will ya?  You’re scaring my family.  And me too – you are scaring me.

And so it goes.  Vigilance begins. The watching of what goes in, and what comes out.  The worrying.  Am I getting constipated again?  Did I eat too much bread?  Not enough vegetables?  Should I stop drinking wine altogether?

Meals are starting to feel like a chore I must get through.  Working out is feeling like an obligation.  I’m having trouble finding the fun part of all this.  Yes, I’m alive.  I’m grateful.  But this need to make every decision be about my health 24/7 is exhausting.  My body is so demanding!

That little creature who talks and sings to me – I really like her much better.  Her demands are much more fun.  Although sometimes she tries to keep me up late.  If she won’t let me fall asleep, my body takes the heat.  She can be kind of thoughtless, actually.  Why does she do that to me?  Doesn’t she like my body?

Religious and philosophical people often claim we are an integrated unit, a trinity of mind/body/spirit.  I haven’t even gotten into the spirit aspect, but what with all the discord I’m experiencing between the other two, I’m not sure if I want to add a third wheel into this relationship.

Come to think of it, maybe she’s like the mediator, and I need to ask her to get in here and counsel these two past their differences.  Hey, that could be the missing link!  Now if I could just get her to make an appearance today.  She’s a little shy; a little ethereal.  She doesn’t like to hang around in the concrete world.  I should see if she’s hanging around the gym, though.  I’ll let you know what I find over there.