My Infinitely Wise Body

Last weekend, I had the best massage of my life. Before we got started, Peter, my massage therapist, sat me in a chair and asked how my body had been feeling lately. In the past, this would’ve been my invitation to unload, sharing about the tension I’d been carrying in my shoulders, the way my body had failed me these past few years, the string of disappointments I’d faced, or the fast-paced workload I was barely keeping up with. But this time, a soft smile spread across my face and I said, “I’ve taken really good care of her lately.”

If you’ve followed me for long, you know I’ve become quite the natural-minded girlie. I bake sourdough from scratch, eat eggs from our own chickens, grow food in our garden, and go out of my way each week to pick up raw milk. I love the simplicity of good food made with real ingredients, and I believe in the healing power of food. I exercise regularly. I filter our water and the air in our home. I’ve reduced my workload to half of what it used to be. I go to therapy. My shampoo and skincare are all natural. I rarely wear makeup, and when I do, it’s organic.

But that’s not the whole picture. The past two and a half years of trying to conceive brought me face-to-face with decisions and compromises I didn’t want to make. At times, I pressed in with vigilance, determined to find answers through ultrasounds, X-rays, MRIs, daily urine tests, and countless blood draws. Other times, I completely checked out, hoping that the sun on my skin and the grass under my feet would be enough to heal me. Neither approach produced the outcome I was longing for, and I found myself constantly wondering what I was doing wrong. I felt such friction in the push and pull of what I should or shouldn’t do. I was embarrassed that I might be doing too much or too little, and people even said things along the way that affirmed those beliefs.

I told a friend that I didn’t feel at home in my body and wanted to crawl out of my skin. A few days later in therapy, my counselor said she wanted to help me “feel more at home in my body.” Hearing her say my exact words back to me signified that they held real importance in this moment of my life. If you read my last post, you’ll have a broader understanding of some of the changes I’ve been going through this season. In a nutshell, I shared about my pursuit of embodiment and living more fully, and how my beliefs about every area of life, including health and nutrition, have evolved in recent years.

Food

All my life, I believed it was good to eat as little as possible in order to stay as skinny as possible. In adulthood, my focus shifted to clean eating, but I still carried the belief that eating less was best. I followed health accounts warning of dangerous, cancer-causing ingredients and wouldn’t be caught dead with canola oil in my pantry. At restaurants, I felt a tightness in my chest deciding between what I thought I should order and what I actually wanted to eat. At the grocery store, I spent most of my time reading ingredient labels and putting things back on the shelf. My meals at home were always produce-heavy. Every decision came from a place of guilt, fear, and control.

It wasn’t until this year that I began to find genuine freedom and ease in my relationship with food. My close friend Kelsey often talked about eating enough, which felt like a radical idea after growing up in a fat-free culture. She introduced me to the importance of feeding myself well, getting enough protein, and eating enough calories to meet my body’s needs. I was nervous about gaining weight from eating so much more than I was used to, but I was willing to try if it meant improving my fertility. I gained a total of two pounds. I couldn’t believe that all this time, I could have just been eating when I was hungry.

Around this time, I started following Noelle Kovary and was shocked to see a nutritionist preaching the gospel of butter, coffee, and sugar. My angel from heaven! Noelle broadened my perspective on what foods are “good” or “bad,” and why. Her approach completely changed how I plan meals at home and how to balance different foods together. I happily booted kale from my weekly rotation.

The Wisdom Within

More recently, my summer reading has deepened my sense of connection with my body and helped me define what feeling healthy and well truly means to me.

The first book I read was Making Sense of Your Story. My biggest takeaway was that our bodies carry everything—our thoughts, feelings, memories, intuitions, wounds, aches, and desires. There’s no real separation between our internal and external selves. Our bodies have so much to tell us, if we’re willing to listen. I’ve started asking myself, “If this sensation could speak, what would it say?” I pay attention when I feel a pit in my stomach or a tightness in my throat. I’m aware that the thoughts I have about myself can become embedded in my cells, so I’m learning to offer myself kindness, approval, and even celebration. I’m committed to addressing stored trauma when it surfaces and to sitting with my sorrow, so that my body can be healed and freed from its power. This kind of mind-body connection doesn’t always fall under the umbrella of health, but to me it feels like a critical element in fostering a restful experience in our human bodies. I’ve only just begun the process of exploring my life story and working with a therapist to unpack the layers that have built up in my body over the years.

My second summer read was Dying to Be Me, per Kalen Rivers’ recommendation. The author recounts a near-death experience that revealed to her the innate healing power of the body and the wholeness already within us. After waking from a coma and miraculously healing from cancer, she came to understand that true healing doesn’t come from fear or force, but from trust, acceptance, and connection to our inner self. I’ve held such judgement over myself for giving in to the medicine, MRIs, and conventional care throughout this process, but her story encouraged me to step into partnership with the healing modalities that I’ve intuitively committed to along the way. I no longer feel shame or friction, because I trust myself, and I’ve released the notion that there’s a right or wrong way to navigate this journey. I can change my mind and re-direct at any given moment. Her words inspired me to loosen my grip on the need to be fixed and instead embrace life as it is—with joy, presence, and self-compassion. Healing is not found in the fear of symptoms or perfect health routines. It’s found in the freedom of creating joy and trusting our beautiful body’s inherent resilience.

Peace

For the first time in a long time, I feel at peace in my body. It’s taken me a long time to believe that my body is blessed, not cursed, and to truly grasp how remarkable and capable our bodies are. I can’t even begin to name the millions of functions they carry out daily, and the ways they automatically know how to heal over and over.

We stay out in the sun too long, strain our muscles, skip sleep or water, have a little Red Dye 40 here and there, cut ourselves while cooking—and our bodies automatically restore and reset us again and again. This is a miracle in itself.

I’m grateful for permission to trust myself as I move forward, whether that means taking medicine in the morning or letting a swim in the pool be my healing ritual for the day. I’m kind and gracious with myself in every choice, and I’m not worried about what anyone else thinks.

I dance because I want to inhabit every corner of myself, to stretch into my limbs and feel alive. I swim and float idly, letting the water wash over my skin. When I get my period, I no longer want to pound on my stomach for failing me. I place my hands there gently, thanking it for everything it does, and for the most part I really mean it.

So tonight, I’m eating Papa John’s pizza by the water while a flock of birds dances in the sky above me. I’m not thinking about the soybean oil or modified food starch. I’m just enjoying the salty, cheesy goodness. Tomorrow, I’ll eat homemade bread, fresh fruit, and plenty of protein again. I don’t remember if I took my medicine today—it’s not a big deal to me either way. I spent my evening dancing barefoot in the grass to the Black Eyed Peas until I worked up a sweat, then jumped in the pool.

This is freedom to me. This is my healing.