Falling Into Body Love, Part 2

(Source)

In Part 1 I talked about how (oddly through falling off a staircase) I had a body positivity epiphany. That epiphany, essentially, was that rather than trying (or more precisely, continuing to try—unsuccessfully, no less) to convince myself to love its appearance, I can shift the focus entirely from what it looks like to what it does for me.

Because, let's face it: For over 54 years so far, my body (on the positive side of the equation) has, among other things:

• Housed my spirit
• Allowed me to experience this life
• Carried me through the world
• Sustained me through everything I've been through
• Facilitated relating to many wonderful people

...and of course much more. 

(And to think—for the vast majority of that time, I accepted the bullshit messages society [and, not for nothing, some cruel people at times] sent its way—and added some of my own. But...I know that kind of conditioning sinks its teeth into us early and is relentless, so ultimately I can forgive myself for falling prey to it. I mean, who escapes it, really?)

Anyway, all of the above is no small thing. It deserves to be acknowledged and appreciated.

And as I said in part 1, I knew I wanted to make this epiphany into a practice. It's too significant to leave to a one-time experience in C's office. Thankfully it didn't take long for me to realize what I wanted to do to accomplish that.

So now, almost daily, I place my hands on my belly, then on my chest, and sometimes other places, and at each place, I say aloud, "Thank you" and "I love you." (For a while I started each time with, "I'm sorry." Because of course, I am sorry for everything on the negative side of the equation that it's had to endure. But going forward with this practice, I'm focusing on gratitude and love.)

Does it feel weird to talk to my body? Yeah, sometime it does. Does it feel weird to tell it, "I love you"? For sure. But I'd rather feel a little weird telling my body I love it than continuing to treat it like crap. I and my body deserve so much better than that.

Do I know whether this is actually doing or will do anything for me? At this point it's really too soon to tell, but I figure it's gotta be better than feeding it ever more shit.

And so now, when I say that I love my body, I do not mean I am thrilled with its appearance. I mean: I am practicing being loving toward my body. I am valuing appreciating it over shallowly criticizing or praising it either one. What my body is (the home for my soul) and what it does for me far, far outweigh both its appearance and how much that appearance meets or fails to meet society's beauty standards. Which are hyper-narrow, ever-changing cultural constructs anyway.

One may consider my body love practice, in addition to an act of self love, to be an act of resistance.

Because it is.