a letter for my body
this one is long overdue 💟
Below is a letter I wrote to my body, longhand, transcribed here unedited. This is the second in a series of letters to myself; I plan to write to my ambition next. If you have an idea, suggestion, or request for a letter you’d like me to write, please do let me know. And, should this inspire you to write a letter to your own body, I would love to hear about it. xoxo - Nishta
Dear Body,
I owe you an apology. In fact, I owe you multiple apologies. It’s time to make amends.
For so long, I judged and evaluated your worth based on what you looked like. I did this as I strived not to judge anyone else’s body, as I claimed not to care about external appearances, as I spoke hypocritical words of encouragement to friends and students as they struggled with their relationships to their bodies.
I was thirteen the first time I cut you, out of despair that you didn’t look the way I thought you should, the way I thought would make my life easier or better. I hurt you in this way on and off for years, until as recently as three years ago, whenever the pain inside of me became too much to bear. I showed and told few, some of whom minimized the damage I had done to you as “not that bad.” Perhaps they did not realize how much self-loathing is required to pierce your own skin with a sharp edge.
My anger at you was misplaced, of course. You are perfectly made, if not perfect, capable of amazing feats and adventures. We’ve climbed mountains, played piano, rocked babies, cooked magnificent meals, had terrific sex, dance and laughed and cried our guts out. I owe you so much.
I know that I have swallowed poisonous messages along the way, messages that have driven a wedge between us, messages that kept me from hearing your wisdom, messages that discounted your ways of knowing. I am so sorry that I believed them instead of you.
For so long, I saw you as separate from me—a thing instead of an animal. But now I know you are my home, inseparable from the me of me because this is the only place I’ve ever existed, here with you. You make it possible for me to write these words, to move my pen across the page without a second thought. Every day I take for granted what you can do, what you have done.
Sometimes there is still pain but no longer do I purposely inflict it on you. I’m proud of that, because I know that means I have better tools now for managing my hurt, and also that I am learning to take better care of you. I’m trying to remember to ask you what you need: food, water, medicine, affection, movement, rest, fresh air, yoga - and then give that to you as a gift, as an act of love & service to myself. I am not as proficient with this as I would like to be, and I appreciate your patience.
As I watch my daughter struggle to love & accept her body, just as I did at her age, I want very much to model for her what it looks like to cultivate a partnership with your body, rather than to dominate your body or ignore her altogether. The messages still register from time to time - those vicious, nasty ones that have me look at you and see only what you’re not, what you can’t do or don’t look like, rather than admiring with gratitude the miracle of your systems and functions.
I am blessed to have people in my life who teach me how to treat you well: my love, who caresses and praises my curves, my child, whom we once fed from milk that you made inside of me (how insanely cool is that?) and who still returns to. me as her home base, snuggling in close at night. The baby with whom I spend my days sits comfortably on my hip - your hip - our hip! - just as hips were designed for. He reaches for me each morning, this body a place of safety, your geometry familiar and sacred.
This is how I wish to map you going forward—as a lush, ripe landscape filled with possibility. As a physical accounting of these amazing forty-one years on Planet Earth—testament to a life well and fully lived, all made possible through you.
Love,
Nishta