A Love Letter to My Body (and Yours)

Dear Body-

I’m so sorry.

I didn’t listen. I ignored you. Berated you. Beat you up, literally at times. Beat you down.

You were too much:
too big, too jiggly, too broken.

You weren’t enough:
skinny enough, strong enough, fast enough, good enough.

You weren’t the one keeping me down this whole time though. I was. Me and my brain and my twisted thoughts about coulda/woulda/SHOULDA.

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I’m so sorry body.

Not for the food. Not for pushing you. For not shutting the fuck up and listening.

You’ve been crying for help for years, and no miracle cure will fix it. No one can fix you.

Because you aren’t broken.

Yes, even with:

the injuries
the eating disorder
the Crohn’s
the hypothyroidism
the muscle imbalances
the medicines

I’m more than my diagnoses, more than a list of diagnostic codes.

This pain I feel, it’s coming from me. From wanting you to be different.

Better. More. Less.

I’m sorry for thinking others can heal us.

The “right” food. The “right” touch. Just one more “right” workout, cookie, cracker.

A different physical therapist.
People loving me more.
The right diet.
Restricting foods.

All of this, it was my attempt to give you what you longed for: love and attention and space and listening and healing.

All of this was misguided.

You do need help.

You don’t need someone else to tell you what to do. How to be.

We wouldn’t have gotten this far, you and me and our entire species, if that were true.

I’ve been doing my best. And I’m sorry. For thinking you needed what you didn’t, for ignoring you, for pushing you!

But you do need help. It’s not all or nothing (remember that brain).

I can heal, we can heal. But not alone.

You need the right context – like with sex – the right environment in which to heal.

Space
Time
Love
Orgasm
Joyful movement
Support

And yes, food is part of this context. But not what anyone else tells us. You’ll tell me.

That’s just it: you don’t need labels or told what to do. You already know. You’ve known all along. It’s me who hasn’t been listening, or doing so half-heartedly.

None of this is revolutionary. To me, it absolutely is.

Dear Body I'm Sorry6

You’ve known what you needed all along.

And I’ve been resisting and wrestling that this whole fucking time.

I’m sorry body.
I love you body.
I’m open to trusting you, body.

I’ve been listening to the chatter instead of you. Doing everything in my power to drown your voice out. Because trusting you means…

I don’t know.

(Yes I do).

It means challenging the status quo. Owning my power fully.

Trusting you means I can’t hide anymore.

It means I may have to make decisions I don’t love. That people will question. It means choosing the proverbial path less traveled.

(When has that stopped me before?)

Trusting you means letting go of the stories.

Surrendering.
Not having control.
Freedom.

There’s more here, I’m sure. But it’s not coming to the surface…yet. It’ll be here soon, I imagine. But this is a good place to start, a lot to start with.

I’m sorry body.
I love you body.
Thank you body.
I’m listening body, starting to.

Kait xo

10 thoughts on “A Love Letter to My Body (and Yours)

  1. Well fucking said Kait!

    Here’s to your continued healing. Thank you for sharing this party of your journey so it might heal others.

    I am sharing this on my biz page and personal page now xxx

  2. damn. daaaaamn damn damn. this is SO good – thank you for bearing your soul. reading your words has helped me squash some of the fears i was still holding on to, especially around birth and my post-pregnancy body. thank you for being you.

    1. I won’t tell you how many times I’ve reread this in the days since. Especially as I start on a meal plan this week that’s more open than anything I’ve eaten since March and it’s fucking terrifying plus more food than I’m used to so I’m worried I won’t listen to my body saying, “hey girl we’re full now.” Love to us both.

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