Speaking Gently to My Body

I’ve always criticized what I’ve sometimes called the chocolate-and-bubble-baths model of self-care, where a series of supposedly “pampering” actions is supposed to somehow replenish you and make you ready to face the world again.

But I think I’ve found the usefulness of these types of activities, and the answer, as usual, lies in mindfulness and intentionality rather than escapism and consumerism.

I used to have a lot of body image issues, and then I found feminism and did a lot of personal work and (I thought) resolved them. Then cancer hit and a lot of that work completely undid itself. Suddenly I was standing in front of the mirror saying shit to myself that I hadn’t said for a decade. That was weird.

But by 2019 my body and I had arrived at a sort of uneasy truce, held together by 1) it not having cancer and 2) me practicing intuitive eating and engaging in regular movement that feels good to me.

And then I got a severe flu, went to urgent care, was not diagnosed with the severe bacterial infection I also coincidentally had, and ended up hospitalized for two days on a near-constant drip of IV antibiotics.

If getting hospitalized for two days due to medical mismanagement isn’t perhaps the most on-brand thing that can happen to me at this point, I don’t know what is. I mean, it’s not like I’m writing a book about that or anything.

That said, the other really on-brand thing that happened was that I rallied and got discharged from the hospital just in time to get a good night’s sleep, keep my travel plans, and hop on a plane to Austin, where I’m now typing this in a backyard wearing nothing but leggings and a tank top. (I deserve this.)

But before all that, I was home from the hospital in a shitty mood with barely enough energy to stand up without something to support me. I also needed a shower. I’ve now done it several times and if you haven’t experienced this, I can absolutely assure you, the post-hospital shower is the best shower you will ever take in your life. It beats post-camping showers. It beats “the landlord finally fixed the sputtering showerhead” showers.

In the shower, I shampooed my hair, used two different kinds of conditioner, and used both body wash and scrub to exfoliate my severely-neglected skin. When I got tired, I sat down on the floor of the shower and let it wash the conditioner out of my hair.

When I felt ready to be done, I grabbed a towel from the towel warmer (I should mention, this was at my parents’ house, by no means do I personally own a towel warmer) and slid the shower door shut again so I could dry off in the remaining warmth.

I noticed that I felt compelled to dry myself more gently than I usually do. Of course this was probably in part because of my recent infection, but that had only affected a small part of my body. I realized I wanted to pamper myself—not in the mindless sense of showering the body in fancy products or putting it through a particular set of actions (no shame if you enjoy mani-pedis, but to me they are painful and awful and I have no idea how that came to abstractly represent self-care for anybody who does not enjoy pain), but by treating it with the sort of gentleness I would treat a loved one returned from the hospital.

After I finished drying off, I found myself saying, “Now, my dear, you are good as new.” I continued: “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You fought hard and you won.”

Then I started tearing up.

Then I left the shower and started asking myself why I never thought to speak to my body this way after (let alone during) cancer.

I mean, if what I said was true in this situation—and it certainly felt true—how the fuck isn’t it even more true for the process of going into remission from cancer, regrowing my hair, losing the bloat and swollenness of chemo and steroids, and healing my surgical scars?

The truth is, as miserable as it was to suffer through both a viral and a bacterial infection at the same time—and it was literally worse than chemo, by the way—I didn’t hold it against my body that it happened. It wasn’t something my body “put me through.” It was something we got put through together. I felt awful when I was sick and I felt awful for my poor body. My fever spiked to 105 at times. Almost my entire face turned red and swollen. My lymph nodes ballooned. My head hurt so much I could barely find a way to set it down on the pillow so I could sleep. After my dad made me drink TheraFlu one night, my body violently rejected it into the toilet. (Kids: do not have TheraFlu be the only thing you consume all day, unless you’d like to use it to expel an accidentally-injested poison.) It was just an awful six-day slog of fucking misery.

And I didn’t blame my body for it at all.

I could’ve—immune system failure and whatnot. But I didn’t.

Cancer and surgical trauma felt entirely different. Cancer seemed personal and internal two times over—once because it involved my flawed genes, once because it involved my own rogue cells. After surgery, my muscles seemed to attack me and nobody listened to me.

This time, nobody denied that I was sick and hurting. I felt able to complain, to lie in bed and moan, to seek emotional and medical help. (Half-assed as the latter was at times.) With surgery, my medical care was absolutely top-notch, but that and practical assistance were pretty much the only forms of support I had.

As it turns out, it’s much easier to not to blame your body when your non-physical needs are being heard. It’s easier to care for and even move toward loving your body when you feel fully cared for and loved by others.


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Speaking Gently to My Body
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My Zine, “The Girl Survives Cancer in This One,” is Now Available!

Banner for "The Girl Survives Cancer in This One." Visit bit.ly/GirlSurvives

As you may know, I’ve been writing a book of essays about my experience as a breast cancer survivor. Last month, I decided to publish a zine that collects some of the essays I’ve written so far, to put my writing out there and build some interest in my book.

It ended up being a very fun project (my first zine!) and although I didn’t end up with the old-school photo-copied look I originally planned on, it’s very pretty and the writing is very much the focus.

A photo of the inside of my zine.

It’s now available on Etsy in digital format for $4, and as a paperback for $8. You can even get the paperback signed! Who knows, maybe it’ll be worth something one day.

If you want to get updates on my book as it progresses, you should subscribe to my newsletter here.

I hope many of y’all buy it and read it, and don’t forget to leave a review on Etsy!

A photo of the cover of my zine.

My Zine, “The Girl Survives Cancer in This One,” is Now Available!

Intuitive Eating Made Me Miss My Flight

(But, in the words of the great Rebecca Bunch, the situation’s a lot more nuanced than that.)

Rebecca Bunch from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Last night I was supposed to be on a flight to DC. I arrived at the airport straight from work with some time to spare, checked my luggage, went through security, bought a snack, and arrived at the gate to find that the flight had been delayed by two hours. It was 7 PM. My usual dinner time. I ate some of my almonds but found my hunger worsening. With the delay I would not arrive in DC until about 11 PM, plus a half-hour ride from the airport, so it would be nearly midnight by the time I could finally have a hot, nutritionally complete meal—my first since lunch at noon. What to do?

Lately I’ve been working with a dietician[1] on intuitive eating, a radical (but not new) approach to food in which you learn to pay attention to your body’s hunger cues and eat things that feel good to you. No numbers are involved in this process at any point. It’s not a weight-loss program, or even a “health” program, really. It’s more of a “rebuild a healthy relationship with food and be more mindful” program.

Most people, even those who have a relatively healthy body image and few issues around food, have taught themselves to ignore bodily cues like hunger, satiety, and energy. That’s because bodies are inconvenient and our society demands that we run on its schedule, not on our bodies’ schedules. If lunch is at noon then you eat at noon. If you have a lot of work to do and don’t have time for eating, you keep working until you can stop. If we’re eating now then you eat now even if you’re not hungry. If dinner is meatloaf and broccoli then you clean your plate before you can leave the table because of [insert racist and classist cliche here]. If salads leave you feeling weak and tired but salads are clean and healthy and you need to eat clean and healthy, then you eat salads and feel weak and tired and tell yourself it’s because of something else. If the flight is at 7 PM and there’s no time for dinner beforehand, then you grab a snack and head to the gate, and if the flight is delayed and there’s no one with you to text you updates, then you stay at the gate in case the flight leaves suddenly and you worry about your worsening hunger later.

Recently finished chemo? Recently had a double mastectomy? Recently started hormone suppression meds that put you into early menopause, causing hot flashes, fatigue, weakness, and confusion, especially if you don’t eat properly? Don’t worry about it! Wait at the gate.

Needless to say, I didn’t do that. I went to a pizza place not far from the gate, ordered myself a small pizza with olive oil, bacon, onions, and mushrooms, listened for any flight announcements, did not hear any flight announcements, refreshed the flight info on Google, and missed the flight anyway.

“Should’ve stayed at the gate,” the gate agent said when I appeared half an hour before the flight’s rescheduled departure and inquired what the fuck.

But I was exactly where I needed to be—taking care of my body so that it takes care of ME on my trip.

Now it’s the morning after, and I’m on my rebooked flight to DC, somewhat frazzled but nevertheless feeling energized enough to enjoy my weekend. Because last night when I started to feel really hungry, I had a complete meal with carbs, fat, protein, and fiber, along with hot tea and later water.

Bodies are inconvenient. I’ve tried the thing where you replace your meals with “healthy snacks” because you can’t make time to eat meals. It doesn’t work. I’ve tried the thing where you grab greasy fast food and bring it on the plane with you because you don’t have time for anything else. It doesn’t work. I’ve tried ignoring the problem. It doesn’t work.

What works is paying attention to my body’s physical sensations and responding to them with a combination of carbs, fat, protein, fiber, water, rest, physical activity, and sleep.

In fact, that’s probably the only thing that ever would’ve worked. But until I got so sick that I HAD to stop and pay attention to it, I ignored it like almost everyone else does.

(No, ignoring my hunger did not cause my cancer, but having cancer caused me to stop ignoring my hunger.)

When you start noticing your body’s cues and responding to them appropriately, you may also start missing flights. Or turning down opportunities, or no longer eating some foods you thought you liked but turned out to actually make you feel bad, or being late to things because you realized you needed to eat first but you weren’t hungry early enough to eat early enough to not be late. You may decide that you can’t be vegan after all, or that you don’t need to eat meat after all. You may notice that you don’t get hungry at 7 AM, 12 PM, and 6 PM. You may get hungry at totally different times. You may need to adjust your work schedule to accommodate this.

You may find a way to avoid many of these potential problems by being strategic about bringing snacks with you or taking breaks from things. But sometimes you’ll forget, or it won’t be enough.

You may also find yourself feeling better, physically and mentally. You may stop sending yourself on guilt-trips over food. You may realize that stopping at Dairy Queen for an ice cream cone after work is actually a great way to boost your mood and make sure you don’t get hungry until you’ve had time to make dinner.

You may even find yourself noticing other types of bodily cues more, too—for instance, that the party is loud and you need a break from the noise, and if you take a break now, you won’t be overwhelmed and will be able to return and stay for the rest of the party and enjoy yourself. Or that these shoes are so uncomfortable that it actually impacts your mood and productivity, so wearing them just isn’t worth it anymore. Or that you always feel vaguely uncomfortable and on edge around this particular person and maybe it’s time to try to figure out why.

Yeah, it’s inconvenient. It makes me feel over-sensitive, fragile, high-maintenance, and a lot of other things we often label women with. It’s difficult that at a moment when I most need to get past my preoccupation with my body’s weakness and vulnerability, the self-care I need the most seems to just highlight those things more and more.

But every time I make the decision to honor my body’s cues rather than ignore them, I can feel that I’ve taken another small step towards well-being. Towards working as a team with my body rather than fighting it every step of the way. Towards feeling at home in myself again.

A missed flight starts to seem like a small price to pay.


[1] If you live in Ohio, you may be able to work with my dietician! Find her here: https://www.kristenmurrayrd.com/

More info about intuitive eating here: http://www.intuitiveeating.org/


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Intuitive Eating Made Me Miss My Flight