My new racket which is such a beauty: Babolat Pure Drive
Continuing this week’s explanation of our new blog categories, today’s is JoyBody. Of course. But this is more than it appears at first glance.
When I say JoyBody, sometimes I will mean a singular experience of our individual bodies. (Today’s post is very much along those lines.) But often I will mean our communal body and things affecting the larger ecosystem in which we all live.
Singular JoyBody only exists in relation to all other JoyBodies and all of that only exists in relation to the larger eco/social/cultural/familial systems. We work on ourselves in what seems to be individual ways but in reality is always connected — in process and/or outcome — to the collective and its context.
Onto today’s musings:
From the time I was quite young, I had someone whom I adored make it clear to me that my thighs were… too much. I was only about 10 the first time this happened in a very direct, said to my face kind of way, and it was painful and confusing, to say the least. I remember just standing there in my favorite yellow shorts wondering what it all meant.
From that day forward, I was always conscious of my thighs. And I continue to be to this day.
I've worked so hard on so many levels of CRAP but this one... it's like a tap root.
So I don't wear anything shorter than right below my knees. Been like this forever. And it has nothing to do with the size or shape of my body. I have ranged from a size two to a 14 and no matter what... no thighs shown.
So recently I went shopping, thinking I should*/could confront this and find some shorter things especially for tennis. There's a ton of cute skorts out there right now. And playing tennis is a HOT thing to do and I’ve always wanted to be that tennis dress wearing girl. Currently, I wear right below the knees yoga pants on the court and they are okay but also so freaking warm.
(*Always, always beware the word should.)
Off I went shopping. I tried on a couple of skorts that were perfect for tennis, and even though I was deep breathing in the fitting room, I just COULD. NOT.
So then there's THAT layer of shame, right? "What is wrong with me? I work so hard on trauma and help others with body based trauma? WHY CAN'T I GET OVER THIS?"
That's what I refer to as "adding shit icing to an already shit cake."
NO.
What's another way to look at this then? I think I figured something out...
Here's part of what it means to love yourself and love your body:
Wear things that MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD. Wear things that MAKE YOU FEEL CONFIDENT AND COMFORTABLE.
Period. There's no magic measure of "you only are healed if you show this much of yourself publicly." That's bullshit.
Wear things that make you love your life and give you the ability to focus on joyful things.
And finally: we can only heal what's READY to be healed and in the meantime? HUGE SELF COMPASSION AND PATIENCE is the path.
When I shared this story with people in the sanctuary, someone mentioned a story about their therapist saying the most helpful thing ever: Sometimes healing is just making space for the thing that might not ever “heal” to the place where we imagine it “should.”
Amen.