When the Body Says No
For most of my young and adult life I had been plagued by aches and pains and health issues that perplexed doctors and always ended up being put in the category “Functional Disorder”. Generally I think doctors give that diagnosis when they think it is all in your head.
In a sense they were right, my mind and the lies it believed held my body a hostage. I now believe that when I deny the heart its truth, the body cannot tolerate the deception.
I was taught to look a certain way, to act a certain way, to chase a proscribed set of brass rings that would lead to contentment. I was a gull, following the lead of the slick snake oils salesmen of dominant culture. I’ve always been a hard worker, and built an edifice to that message. A hollow, rotting carcass.
One of the most dramatic changes since coming out as transgender has been the recession of all of these ailments. Sciatica that used to be debilitating has been reduced to, at worst, a mild annoyance. My Celiac disease reaction to small amounts of gluten used to make me ill for days like the flu. Now? I get a little tired and diarrhea. I’m not even sure if I notice it some times. Once chronic back and stomach pain only flares up when my gender dysphoria or trauma sends me into a tailspin, and then for mere hours or days rather than months. The body, even as my muscles atrophy from having almost no testosterone, is healing and growing stronger.
I love the irony. I used to be able to carry four or five bags of groceries from the trunk of my car to my house at once. Now, muscle is melting off my upper body and the same load takes three trips. Oddly, that ‘weakness’ fills me with profound pleasure. Like everything else in my life, I am taking more joy from simple tasks like cooking, caring for my children, and teaching my students. It seems to all get done. I don’t need to try so hard. What I can’t do for myself, I ask for help to accomplish.
All it took was a few months of quiet to listen to my heart, and a year to muster the bravery to announce my truth.
Painting has always been a medium of release for me. In my months of reflection it brought me to liberation, unpacked my frozen feelings and memories and allowed me to know myself, sheltered from the constant barrage of lies I grew up believing, reinforced constantly by the media and the expectations of those around me.
What painting my truth and telling my story began in releasing my soul, dance is freeing in the body. I can finally dance as I had always wanted, the sinuous, undulating, fully embodied dance of the sensual, emotional woman who I am. There are no rules, no steps. In my years on this earth I have done Tai Chi, Kung Fu, Aikido, yoga, fencing, ballroom dancing, and even a little ballet. Instinctively I find myself creating a blend of all these movements to the music I love, and inventing my own. Shameless and free.
I am certainly not saying illness is always just in the head, but it can anchor itself in your heart if you allow lies to poison your mind, and from their pollute your body.
Whatever way you dance or sing or paint or build, cook or garden. Whatever you do that makes you you, don’t let anyone ever make you believe that you are doing it wrong.
You can only do you.
When the Body Says No
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