Write it Out - Part 2
Jan. 30th, 2006 10:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morrigirlDear Body,
Last night I was thinking about the good old days, roughly 1995 through summer 1998. Do you remember those days? Back when you were physically incapable of getting sick? When I had to fake a sore throat, stomach cramps, or any number of other ailments if I wanted to take a day off from school? I can only remember falling legitimately ill two or three times during high school and it's all because of you. You were just too sturdy, too strong, and too determined to stay in tip top condition.
Dude, what happened? I know college was a real blow. Entering that hotbed of germs and stress did a number on you. All of a sudden I quit exercising, started feeding you even crappier food then I did during my teenage years, siginifcantly reduced the amount of sleep I allowed you, and increased the number of activities I expected you to engage in. I was worrying all the time, my self-esteem was shit, it only makes sense that you'd start breaking down. Bronchitis, flarengitis, ear infections, cysts, yeast infections, vertigo, sinus infections, strep, anxiety, depression, the environment in conjunction with my own lack of care made you susceptible to all of it. At least once every three months I was laid up with one or several of these illnesses. They were your way of telling me to STOP MOVING SO FAST! But I never listened. School was way too important. I had to put it first. My future depended on it.
I thought as soon as I got out of school, stopped stressing out over classes, started eating real food again, that the health issues I was experiencing would stop. But they didn't. The blow I dealt your immune system had just been too strong. The problems got worse. Now there was intense lower back pain, problems with my ankles, a deviated septum, and now the possible development of yet another chronic biological malady as if one wasn't enough.
I'm angry with you. On one hand, I don't understand why you can't continue to hold up the way you did in high school. On the other hand, I feel guilty for not taking better care of you. I feel frustrated because I don't know what to do to improve your health. I've been told to feed you more vegetables, but you reject vegetables because you don't like the way they taste. I've been told to give you certain drugs and suppliments, but you react badly to many of them. The older you get the fewer foods you are willing to eat, the fewer treatments you respond to. I fear by the time I'm 30 I will have exhausted every possible treatment for every problem you have and will have to spend the remainder of my life in extreme physical and emotional pain.
But your stubborness in conjuction with your frailty also scares me. You ARE frail. I don't know if I'm saying that to remind you or myself. Sometimes I can't figure out which one of us is pushing the hardest. It's probably me. I need you to be able to put up with a full-time job and two hour commute, I need you to be able to eat good foods, I need you to be able to exercise, I need you to have energy. Only...I don't know if that's too much to ask of you. Maybe you are no longer capable of doing this stuff. Maybe I've abused you so long that even care feels like abuse to you now.
I don't know what to do for you, Body. I wish I did. I wish you could spell it out for me. I love you. I really do. I love your feet that take me wherever I want to go whenever I want to go there. I love your calves that are so strong from years of cavorting through the city. I love your round little tummy that's so soft and fun to jiggle. I love your skin that everyone always says is so pretty. I love everythig inside that moves involuntarily and keeps me going even when I'm unconscious. Please, tell me how to nurture you. I want you to live a long, healthy, and comfortable life.
Love Always,
Carla
Last night I was thinking about the good old days, roughly 1995 through summer 1998. Do you remember those days? Back when you were physically incapable of getting sick? When I had to fake a sore throat, stomach cramps, or any number of other ailments if I wanted to take a day off from school? I can only remember falling legitimately ill two or three times during high school and it's all because of you. You were just too sturdy, too strong, and too determined to stay in tip top condition.
Dude, what happened? I know college was a real blow. Entering that hotbed of germs and stress did a number on you. All of a sudden I quit exercising, started feeding you even crappier food then I did during my teenage years, siginifcantly reduced the amount of sleep I allowed you, and increased the number of activities I expected you to engage in. I was worrying all the time, my self-esteem was shit, it only makes sense that you'd start breaking down. Bronchitis, flarengitis, ear infections, cysts, yeast infections, vertigo, sinus infections, strep, anxiety, depression, the environment in conjunction with my own lack of care made you susceptible to all of it. At least once every three months I was laid up with one or several of these illnesses. They were your way of telling me to STOP MOVING SO FAST! But I never listened. School was way too important. I had to put it first. My future depended on it.
I thought as soon as I got out of school, stopped stressing out over classes, started eating real food again, that the health issues I was experiencing would stop. But they didn't. The blow I dealt your immune system had just been too strong. The problems got worse. Now there was intense lower back pain, problems with my ankles, a deviated septum, and now the possible development of yet another chronic biological malady as if one wasn't enough.
I'm angry with you. On one hand, I don't understand why you can't continue to hold up the way you did in high school. On the other hand, I feel guilty for not taking better care of you. I feel frustrated because I don't know what to do to improve your health. I've been told to feed you more vegetables, but you reject vegetables because you don't like the way they taste. I've been told to give you certain drugs and suppliments, but you react badly to many of them. The older you get the fewer foods you are willing to eat, the fewer treatments you respond to. I fear by the time I'm 30 I will have exhausted every possible treatment for every problem you have and will have to spend the remainder of my life in extreme physical and emotional pain.
But your stubborness in conjuction with your frailty also scares me. You ARE frail. I don't know if I'm saying that to remind you or myself. Sometimes I can't figure out which one of us is pushing the hardest. It's probably me. I need you to be able to put up with a full-time job and two hour commute, I need you to be able to eat good foods, I need you to be able to exercise, I need you to have energy. Only...I don't know if that's too much to ask of you. Maybe you are no longer capable of doing this stuff. Maybe I've abused you so long that even care feels like abuse to you now.
I don't know what to do for you, Body. I wish I did. I wish you could spell it out for me. I love you. I really do. I love your feet that take me wherever I want to go whenever I want to go there. I love your calves that are so strong from years of cavorting through the city. I love your round little tummy that's so soft and fun to jiggle. I love your skin that everyone always says is so pretty. I love everythig inside that moves involuntarily and keeps me going even when I'm unconscious. Please, tell me how to nurture you. I want you to live a long, healthy, and comfortable life.
Love Always,
Carla
