I found this in my
blogging file and have decided "better late than never" and put
it up. This post was written before my separation and moving, changing jobs etc
etc etc, so there are references that are out of date. My diagnosis is now formal,
I have started treatment, and my chances of having biological kids is far less
than it was.
I have spent years on
body positivity. Most of this has been a deliberate embracing of my body as it
is. Rather than pretending I am not fat, or ignoring my skin condition, I love
myself as I am and demand that others respect that. Body and mind working together
for a holistic sense of self has been really important to me.
Recently I have
been dealing with health issues around my body. This afternoon I came home with
a tentative diagnosis and had a good cry. It’s not a big deal; I’m not going to
die (until I normally would). I don't even know how much worse it will get.
Excuse the
vagueness, it’s just that the condition that I have is rare enough that like my
job, and volunteer work, I won’t be disclosing it on here for fear of outing
myself.
There is a possibility
that over time my body will become less functional faster than I would like.
This comes with pain and difficulty moving, and the idea scares the shit out of
me.
This body I
love... It’s fucking failing me.
How DARE it!
The HOURS I have
put into exercising, and feeding it well, and loving it, and only letting the
BEST most wonderful people give it cuddles and love. This
body has been nourished in every sense of the word, and now I find out that 30
years of good times with it, is all I may get? I am so ANGRY. I am well
aware that there are people out there with prognoses that are a million times
worse. With limited time, bigger pains and sadder stories. There are people
with perfectly good bodies but hurts so great that they deliberately end their
lives early. I’m one of the lucky ones and once I get past this news I know
that I will realize that fully.
But right now I’m
pissed off, and frightened, and sad.
At the moment I
can’t really safely get down the stairs in the morning until I’ve had a hot
shower and my pain has decreased, and that is totally ok. But what
will I be like in 5 years, when I want to (the fates willing) be getting up at
all hours in the cold, to a hungry baby?
What about in ten
years, when I take my kids canoeing down the Whanganui river, and I want to
crawl in and out of tents scaring 7 shades of shit out of them.
What about in 20
years when I want to boogie at my birthday and embarrass myself trying to dance
the old school styling’s of the Macarena?
What about…
What about…
But I don’t know.
The future may not be much different to what it would be without this
diagnosis.
Worrying won’t
make a damn bit of difference, and even if I never had this, I could get
something else in a weeks’ time. If life has taught me nothing else, it has
taught me that shit happens, and all you can do is roll with it.
My new challenge
will be to continue to be body positive even when it doesn't do what I want it
to. To love it when it hurts me, to love it as it fails me. I think I'm up to
the challenge.
But give me a few
days of tears and anger before I settle into this, ok?
Have only just read this post. So many big embracing hugs for you. Wish I had something to say that would make it all better, but all I can send is my LOVE and the affirmation that you ARE AMAZING and WONDERFUL. xxx
ReplyDeletegreat post about a not-so-great thing happening in your life. sorry i missed it, and sorry you are going through this difficult experience. but you show such a strong sense of courage - it's inspirational.
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