I can’t believe I’m writing about my body, and not in a deep emrata, critical thinking, type of way. So like, trigger warning? But this isn’t about my appearance or my worthiness or body image. It’s not about sickness or health.
It’s about the moment I realized I have a human body.
I’m driving to dinner with my boyfriend (recently—this Saturday) and I suddenly have the urge to touch my shoulder. To roll my fingers around and explore my bones. I don’t think I’ve done this before and my shoulder is wavier than I expected.
I start to feel a little freaked out, thinking about the term “meat suit” and how it’s always made me uncomfortable, but is that what this is?
I touched my thigh and thought how it felt like a ripe nectarine. It’s not like I want to, it’s just that it reminded me of one.
I live in my heart, my mind, my intuition, my gut. But I forget about my actual body all the time. I’ve never actually processed the facts that I live inside what I saw in schoolbooks and diaphragms.
You’re telling me I just… have a skull?
When I started to think about how human brains look and that I have one in my head, I’m weak and woozy as my boyfriend parks the car, no inclination that I’m having my biggest quarter life realization. He will actually have no clue until he reads this.
But here’s the thing, as nauseated and easily sick as I am about flesh and blood, I’m so grateful for my freaky little body. As I try to become friends with my veins, my cells… and sigh, even my bones. I’m even going to spend more time poking my knees and thinking about my organs instead of due dates and goals.
It always comes back to being present, doesn’t it?
Life. Is. Crazy.
Xx Chloe
Anyway the song of the week is really good