My Body is An Unreliable Narrator
Listening to our bodies is a lifelong challenge. Conflicting messages add complexity.
My body is an unreliable narrator.
It tells me moving more will be fine and then it’s not.
It says small pains will grow larger and they don’t. My body assures that big pains will diminish and they won’t.
It indicates agreement with the food. But it was only joking, I realize too late.
Looking for patterns and ways to live well in this structure is hard. Some physical reactions are unpredictable.
I try to listen to cues and warnings,
yet the limits my body declares to have can be wildly inaccurate.
Some symptoms I see coming and don’t prevent, filling me later with regret.
It’s not an easy thing caring for so many living cells keeping me upright and functional. Especially when they are unreliable narrators. All of them.
Still, this body has been there breathing, holding and carrying me all along.
Despite how I’ve treated it. (Despite how it treats me).
All these bones and tissues keep me here, dysfunctional as they seem. So I must persist.
I listen carefully and proceed to live inside this biological wonder, best as I can, knowing more surprises await.
We will navigate together.
kek
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Note: This post was initially published on my Medium site.
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