Do you ever feel betrayed by your body? Does your
body ever disgust you? Or does your body ever scare you? Does it make you
livid? Mine does. And I am not talking about all this in terms of the way your
body looks, but about the way your body makes you feel.
Does it treat you like a jealous and a possessive
lover that is insecure all the time? The one that keeps throwing tantrums to
get your attention and keep your attention. Does it treat you like a stubborn
old grandfather who refuses to accept anything new? The one who thinks that any
deviation from its own thinking is incorrect? Does it treat you like a cruel
step mother who wouldn’t let go off any instance to give you pain and
discomfort? The one who thinks that being at rest or peace is not your right.
Mine does. All of the above. My own body makes me feel betrayed,
disgusted, scared and angry at the same time.
I feel betrayed and disgusted because I didn’t sign
up for a body that is weak all the time? In spite of treating it with utmost
respect, in spite of trying everything possible to make it feel healthier, it changes only for worse. It betrays me for all the efforts I put towards
making it healthier.
I am scared of my body, of trying anything with my
body. Be it a new food item, a different sleeping pattern, a new cosmetic
product or a mere different workout style. Because it retaliates. As bad as a
teenager high on drugs.
It angers me to see other people healthy even
when they abuse their bodies so much. Whereas I have been treating it with a caution of a new father holding his child for the first time.
And yet. It behaves the way it wants to behave.
I can sometimes hear my body talk to me. Like a
person. A person who is not an ally. A person sitting across the table
scrutinizing and scorning everything I do. Keeping notes for times when it can
mock me, smirk at me and take its revenge. I can hear it saying something like,
‘Ahan, so you want to pull a late nighter watching a show on Netflix. Just wait
and watch how I make your head explode tomorrow morning’. Or may be something
like this, ‘So you think you will be able to get away with eating outside food
two days in a row, let me show you the consequences. I am not accepting this
food.’
My relationship with my body feels like an unrequited
love affair. An affair where I give. And only give. Attention. Care. And
medicines. To get nothing in return except being bruised, broken and in nagging
pain all the time. Being on medicines for one thing or the other.
Do you know how much amount of time, energy and mental
space your own body occupies in case it treats you like mine does? Immense. When
I sit and reminisce, it fills me up with regret. Regret of things I could have
done if keeping my body in a healthy working condition didn’t occupy so much of
my mental space.
So, if yours is treating you well, be grateful. And
work towards keeping it that way.
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| Source: Google images |
PS – I am not sick due to any terminal illness. I am
just not healthy enough to live without medicines.
