Instead of viewing my body's messages as annoying voices to be ignored, I've begun thinking of them as the cries of a baby or child.
I'm writing you by hand from bed, at 3 a.m. on Wednesday morning, as I choke down 12 colonoscopy prep pills and wait for round two of what I'm calling "the faucet." I had another topic lined up and didn't want to write about my colonoscopy. Alas…
When I created this newsletter, I promised myself I'd identify each week's topic by Sunday and draft the email by EOD Wednesday. I'm prone to procrastination and don't want to unnecessarily stress myself by drafting emails on Thursday nights or, God forbid, Friday mornings.
This week, I'd planned on writing on Tuesday during round one of colonoscopy prep, assuming it'd be best to complete a draft before being propofol-ed. Prep takes a couple hours to kick in, so I didn't think there'd be any conflict. My body, however, didn't want me diverting my attention.
These pills make me feel weird. Not horrible, but they're causing moderate chest pain, abdominal pain, and bloating. When I tried to write about the ethics of creative nonfiction yesterday, my body said "Excuuuse me?! You want to focus on THAT at a time like THIS???"
So I conceded and gave it my attention, which I am doing again now, during my second round of pills and second attempt at drafting the email.
If you have chronic pain and have tried cognitive-behavioral therapy methods, you may have encountered strategies that promote ignoring the body. For example, I recently did a guided meditation that had me visualize myself driving a bus full of rude and loud passengers telling me how to drive and what I was doing wrong. They were to represent my various symptoms, and my job was to ignore them and follow the map, aka my values.
Of course I want to live aligned with my values, but the ignoring part doesn't work for me.* When I ignore my body, it gets louder, not quieter.
Instead of viewing my body's messages as annoying voices to be ignored, I've begun thinking of them as the cries of a baby or child. No, I shouldn't follow their literal instructions — I'm the adult here, after all — but ignoring them would be neglect.
It's my job to care and provide for my body and its needs. It's my job to listen and be present. If a toddler cried about the boogeyman, you wouldn't ignore them and pull out your laptop to write about the ethics of creative nonfiction because you knew their worries were unfounded. You'd hug them and reassure them that you're here, you're paying attention, and they're safe.
My mind knows, logically, that my current side effects are normal and just need to be tolerated. But, my body is alarmed and wants my attention and reassurance. So that's what I'm giving it — the CNF ethics email can wait until next week.
*Before someone tries to convince me, let me tell you, I've tried these techniques a LOT. Many times over many years. If they work for you — great! Different strokes.
I love this analogy of the body as baby!! That makes a lot of sense to me, and like you said, different things work for different people.
I think that’s a great analogy -the body as a baby that must be tended to. It’s a constant dance with my toddler to validate him when it’s necessary and also ignore him (when he’s making potty jokes at the dinner table). We’re all just trying to figure it out ❤️