I hate being sick.
I hate more that I am a firm believer that illness can be avoided. So when I get sick I get frustrated with myself.
My life work balance has been struggling to find breath since work went back. I’m not really surprised but a bit upset with myself for it and so I became sick, my body susceptible to a flu virus that crept in just over two weeks ago.
As tired as I was I struggled to take the time my body needed and the virus snowballed; I spent five days last week in bed/on the lounge.
Unable to move much. Unable to think much.
Trying to get back in rhythm with my body. Consuming mostly fresh fruit and veges. Thursday I started to feel human again, although I sweat most of the long day at work away. Friday better still. Today I could get up and shower and haul myself to the local shopping centre. Happy with my progress.
I went to the shops because I need to listen better to my body, and the knots in my neck and shoulders were screaming for liberation. And only one place can help with that.
I love massages. I love that I can feel my body breathing and my mind expanding. That I can force myself to be in the moment and shut out other thoughts. That there is no worry over what I should be doing and there are no interruptions beyond, “Is this pressure okay for you?”
It is only in the last few years though that I have found the courage within myself to be able to get massages. It used to be that the thought of a stranger seeing my body would send me into extreme fear that they would spend the rest of the day laughing at the ugly girl. That I would be talked about for days after and that when I would come back again they would all fight to not have me as their client. Yep, I know – ridiculous.
Because even if they did do that, I don’t know that that’s what happens. I still get my massage and I still walk out with a fuzzy but clear head; a trance like state where I am part of the world and removed from it all at the same time. Cloud Nine.
It’s funny this body image thing. I have no real concept of what I look like. Sometimes I feel significantly larger than what I am, other times smaller than what I am. Sometimes I feel very attractive, other times I am convinced that there is no one alive more unattractive than me.
Funnily I feel best when I am in control and when I am me. Maybe not so funny. Often those times are when I am by myself. No pressure to be or do from anywhere else. Free to be me.
I had an inbox exchange with an ex student on Facebook. She doesn’t like the way that she looks. Amazing in my mind because she has always been a gorgeous girl. I wish I could somehow get her to see what the world sees. But I guess that applies to all of us.
And often what makes someone attractive comes from the inside. The inner beauty created from compassion, openness, honesty and integrity, really can shape the external appearance of someone – they radiate an energy that transfixes those around them. I think of people I have loved who became irresistible to me when I had seen their soul and others, initially irresistible who lost that when their superficiality and egocentric self eclipsed anything physically appealing.
If only we could all trust ourselves and the love of those who love us, to strive to be the best version of ourselves in a more holistic way rather than what social constructs determine as the right way to look.
If only we sharpened our minds and cared for other people and animals as deeply as we strive to be beautiful, what an amazing world we would be nurturing.
What a legacy for future generations …