I am sorry for all the mean things I said to you over the years.
I am sorry for the projections from other people that made me think you were anything but perfect. I am sorry for internalizing emotional abuse and hate from people who didn’t deserve to touch you or have parts of you shared. I am sorry for the physical abuse we endured. I am sorry for the people who forced themselves into you. I’m sorry that I felt as though we deserved that.
I’m sorry for how I have treated you. I’m sorry that I didn’t know how to cope, so I drank way too much to numb myself. That I partied and put myself in unhealthy situations because I was desperately trying to fill a void.
I’m sorry that I didn’t feed you in a loving way. And that at times I barely fed you at all. I didn’t know any better. I was so hopped up on caffeine that I never felt hungry. When I did feed you, it was always junk. Pizza, McDonald’s, chicken patties—nothing of substance ever. Which made you sick. Which made me use a never-ending supply of antibiotics. And SSRIs, Benzos, sleeping pills, and anything else that I was told might help “fix” you.
Little did I know, you didn’t need fixing. I just wasn’t listening to what you needed.
When you finally said enough is enough, I resented you. I hated you. I wanted to end you. To end us. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you. Didn’t love you. I’m sorry that I starved you, over-fed you, and over-medicated you.
I’m sorry I didn’t care that I didn’t listen to the red flags you were putting out, which now that I look back, were like European Techno blasting, and still somehow I couldn’t hear it.
I was so wrapped up in overworking and overachieving—trying to “be something.” Climbing the corporate ladder. Jumping from one shiny object to the next…that I forgot about you. You had become this ball and chain I carried around. That I felt held me back from this frantic lifestyle I thought I needed.
But you saved me, body. You saved me from that life. From that relationship. From all that unhappiness I was too afraid to admit I had inside of me. After all, I had all the “things” that are supposed to make one happy.
I’m sorry that all I ever saw were flaws. That I was too ignorant to see after all this projected hatred toward you, that you were still there for me. That you held me. Fed me oxygen. Kept my heart beating. You kept me alive when all I wanted to do was die. All along, you knew what was best for me, and I thank you for that.
I thank you for your strength. The strength to get the sh*t kicked out of you, day in and day out, and still show up for me. The strength you have to bounce back from near death several times and work as hard as you did to keep me here.
Thank you, body. Thank you for every damn thing we have been through together. Thank you for all of your divinely perfect imperfections. For everything that makes you absolutely beautiful.
I love you, body, and I promise to take care of you. To feed you with good, clean food regularly and to know it’s okay to listen when you give me hunger cues.
I promise to listen when you are tired and need rest. I promise to respect you and love each part of you. I promise to only share you with people who love and respect you. I promise to change my perception of you. I promise to care for you just as you have cared for me.
I love you, body. Thanks for always being there for me.