The Body That Finally Got My Attention

My body didn't fail me.

It finally found a way to get my attention.

For years, it had been whispering.

It whispered through exhaustion that I called laziness.

Through anxiety that I tried to outthink.

Through hunger that I ignored.

Through stress that I wore like a badge of honor.

Through tears I convinced myself weren't necessary.

Through rest that always seemed less important than whatever came next.

But I had become exceptionally good at overriding it.

In fact, I believed that was discipline.

I believed the highest form of discipline was learning how to override my body.

The more convincing I became at telling myself "I'm fine," the stronger I thought I was.

The more I could push through fatigue, suppress emotion, ignore discomfort, or delay rest, the more successful I felt.

Our culture applauds this.

We celebrate the person who never takes a sick day.

The one who survives on little sleep.

The one who pushes through pain.

The one who always says yes.

The one who keeps smiling.

We call it resilience.

Sometimes it is.

Sometimes it's simply becoming fluent in ignoring ourselves.

Even my appearance reflected that same philosophy.

Every curl was coaxed into place.

Every stray hair was sprayed into submission.

Every outward expression of my body was expected to look composed, polished, controlled.

Which makes me wonder about something strange.

We say someone's hair "stood up" when they sensed danger.

Goosebumps rise before we consciously understand why.

Our stomach drops.

Our breathing changes.

Our shoulders tighten.

Our bodies are constantly speaking.

Yet almost immediately we teach ourselves to quiet those signals.

Smooth your hair.

Don't cry.

Push through.

Ignore it.

Keep going.

Somewhere along the way, control became synonymous with discipline.

But what if they aren't the same thing?

Because overriding your body is often easier than listening to it.

Listening asks us to pause.

To become curious.

To admit that perhaps our bodies have been collecting information our conscious minds haven't yet understood.

Control offers certainty.

Listening requires humility.

Control demands compliance.

Listening builds relationship.

My body eventually stopped whispering.

Not because it wanted to punish me.

Because whispering hadn't worked.

I had spent years practicing the art of overriding it.

If it wanted my attention, it had to speak louder than my determination.

It did.

Cancer changed many things.

But one of the greatest gifts it gave me 

For the first time, I stopped simply trying to push through.

I didn’t negotiate with fatigue.

I couldn't ignore what my body was asking of me.

Healing demanded something entirely different.

Not more control.

More listening.

Perhaps healing begins with a surprisingly small decision.

The next time your body speaks, don't make it defend itself.

Don't argue with it immediately.

Don't assume it's wrong.

Become curious before you become corrective.

You may still decide to keep going.

You may still decide to rest.

But make that decision after you've listened. 

Because a relationship cannot exist where only one voice is allowed to speak.