Whoa.

I just got the strangest feeling from my body. It happened as I was staring at a table full of Christmas goodies. My stomach was already full because I had been gorging down the Christmas food my grandma sent me. My mouth had that sticky, sugary aftertaste of peanut brittle in it. I was standing next to the dinner table, waiting for the company we had over to leave so I could eat some more. I only had eyes for the little chocolate beans in plastic wrapping, shinning like the bags of beads the Native Americans were fooled with. Cookies were looking helplessly up at me with soft, pleading eyes. Only stupid superficial people deny themselves treats like us. That�s what they were saying to me, soaking in the artificial lighting, and I was nodding in some far removed corner of my mind.

But then all of the sudden the weirdest thing happened. An incredibly sad feeling hit me, and it came soaking through my whole body from my digestive system. Every organ I use to digest food was crying to the slowest and saddest tune I had ever heard. My stomach was the loudest, but my small and large intestine were slowly crying as well. Even my throat and mouth started to feel sad. It was like the slow helpless crying of a lost child. It felt like a slow breaking down of a stony fa�ade. I felt with a sudden sadness all of the pain I have put my digestive system through for so long. It wasn�t my hated thighs or stomach fat that were sobbing just to let the pain out, it was the workhorse. My digestive system that�s never failed me, and still won�t fail me even if I keep eating the way I�ve been, was slowly crying into the darkness it always feels. It will keep on going no matter what, because its like that, but when it thinks no one cares, when the pain gets to be too much, when it thinks no one will hear, it slowly weeps it�s pain out. How like a small embodiment of myself my digestive track is.

Suddenly I felt the urge to cry out with it. I felt tears welling up into my eyes, and I looked up. I realized that there was activity going on in the room that I hadn�t noticed before. I saw the smiles of those around me and heard friendly conversation. All of this I hadn�t seen because of food.

How much have I been denying myself by staring at candies? How much hurt have I been causing my body by eating what I eat? What I felt was just a tiny taste of the pain my body has felt for so long.

Here�s something that I just can�t picture. Myself at eighty years old, still scarfing down chocolate because I can�t help it. I can�t picture myself with all of the disease that accompanies that. Diabetes, rotting teeth, unstoppable sadness and pain.

Have you ever heard your body cry? It�s the most terrible thing I�ve ever felt. It makes you feel like a slave driver. You feel like you�re beating a dog that loves you, and will always come back with that hopeful look in its eyes. There was something though, in that sadness I felt something lying underneath. It was golden and just so slight I could barely detect it. It was hope. My body had hope. Every second it carries it. Whether it is the sobbing hope of a victim, the stony hope of a weathered warrior, or (the most common) the slow and unending hope carried by a traveler on a long journey. It has always had that hope, my body. It never mattered what I did to it, the hope didn�t change. It has never fallen. It lays there pristine and unchanging, waiting for the day that I do change. Waiting for the day that I see it there. Waiting for me to realize that its all I�ve left my body to cling on to.

And now I wish I could say that I will never hurt my body again. I wish I could truly know that. I wish I could say that the next time I�m stressed out I�ll reach for my pen or roll out my yoga mat instead of opening the �fridge. I wish I could say I�ll never eat things I know are better to left untouched again. I wish I could make and keep every loving, helpful promise to my body that I know it desperately needs and deserves. I wish I could do that. I can�t though. It would be a lie. I know I will eat chocolate again. I know I will continue with old habits that hurt my body no matter how much I want to stop them.

My poor body. If only it had had someone born into it that could change.

I almost feel like going on and on about all the faults in me that cause me to hurt myself. It would be easy, and then I�m sure I�d just run to the cupboard to smash my pain and anger down with some more food. I hate myself because of food and yet I use food to try to cure myself from the hate. Its such a vicious cycle.

I wish I could say how to end all this, but I really don�t know how. I just have the inkling of an idea. I have a quote on my wall that says, �First and foremost love yourself, all else is folly.� It is a quote taken straight from my own lips. I know that if I were to love myself the problems I have would all dissolve into nothing. That I know. What I�m still working on is the actual loving myself part of it. I�m letting the idea sit in my mind and someday, I hope, it will melt into me and become something I know.

So for now all I can do is just hold my digestive system in the tightest hug I can muster, and whisper that it will be alright. Everything�s going to be all right. I�m also trying to hold my entire self in this hug, because that�s what I need. I need that sweet soft cloak of self love to come and cover me in a warm and unending hug. I need to know that everything will be ok, because I�m dying here. I need to stop fearing letting go enough to let go. I need to let it all fall away.

Just know, stomach and the rest of you, that I feel your pain and am doing my best to stop it. I know your pain, I live in it almost every day without even noticing it, as I�m sure you do too. I�m trying to take care of you, believe me. Someday we will live in harmony. Be at peace, and never let go of that golden hope you have. God knows I never will. I�m holding onto it so hard my knuckles are white and my teeth are gritted. Believe me, I won�t let go. Its all I have left.