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I Don’t Trust My Body

I don’t trust my body.

I don’t trust that, while carrying a laundry basket or hamper full of dirty clothes that I won’t fall down the steps. I fear that my knee will give out, that I will trip because sometimes my foot drags due to a limp, that I will get lightheaded on the way down the stairs, or that my grip will loosen and I’ll drop the whole thing as I, and my laundry, go flying.

I don’t trust that I’m strong enough to do simple tasks, like opening a jar or doing household chores.

I don’t trust it now, or in the future. I don’t trust my eyes — I already feel them getting worse. I don’t trust that the arthritis in my feet and the weakening in my bones won’t progress. I don’t know if I trust that a knee replacement is going to be the answer to my problems. I don’t trust that, 5 years from now, I will still be able to type. Even now my fingers start to lock up.

It’s scary.

It’s scary when you feel an asthma attack or a tachycardic episode coming on. It’s scary when your doctor tells you to invest in a wheelchair or a cane, or tells you “there’s nothing I can do.”

It’s scary to think that my peripheral vision issues could get worse — could some of my favorite hobbies be taken away from me? These illnesses have already stolen so much.

Other people takes things for granted: A deep, clear breath. A day without pain. The ability to eat what they want. The fact that they can hear, and see, and sleep, and walk.

I take nothing for granted.

And while I may not trust my body, I still love it. Maybe it’s akin to Stockholm Syndrome or Battered Wife Syndrome — because it abuses me, and I don’t trust it, and it puts me through so much crap, all the while holding me hostage: but I still love it.

I will care for my body as best I can. I will show gratitude and appreciation for what it still can do. And I won’t give up on this relationship, because I know it’s one that is truly ’til death do us part.

So, body, while I don’t trust you… and while you constantly betray me… I’ll keep on loving you, and doing my best to make this work. For better or for worse, there is no divorcing myself from you, or you from me. And somehow, though you’ve made me physically weak, you’ve strengthened me and helped me grow in ways most could never imagine. For that, I am grateful.

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