Returning to the body
I've been separated from my body for a long time now. It's strange in a way. How growing up everything can be about your body but you can never really live in it. When I was younger, everything seemed to revolve around what was happening to my body and in my body and what I did or did not put in my body and how my body looked. And I never really lost a sense of having a body, as some women do, but I lost the sense of being connected to my body. I knew I had a body, but it felt like something I had or something that was happening to me as opposed to something that was a part of who I was. I cursed my body, spent hours upon hours wishing it was thinner or flatter or more sculpted, eating and not eating my body into submission. I moaned about countless hospital trips where everyone seemed to scream at me there was something wrong with my body. The message I received about my body growing up was that it didn't belong to me and that there was something wrong with it. I got an ...