Love Letter to My Body.

I love you, even though the insurance won’t cover any more physical therapy. Even though you ache when I stand too long, walk too far, bleed with the moon, or have too much on my mind. My body, my much slower, softer body – we are not at war.

I am learning your crevices, your limits, your loves. I am letting my life take shape around your needs. It is hard work, spiralic work, snail work, but I know it will grow us. I want nothing but to nurture you.

There is a part of me that wishes things were different, that the car accident never happened, that the concussion, the whiplash, the PTSD, the scoliosis…that everything could be undone and done again. That disability justice could live distant to my daily life. That I never had to find wholeness in chronic pain because I never lived with chronic pain to begin with. But I live with chronic pain now, and to deny my pain is to deny you, my body, and I refuse to.

The moon is full and the days are shorter than nights, and the universe seems to be asking me to go inward. To rest, to care, to hold (and be held), to move slowly and with curiosity. My body, you hold the universe, the aches of the earth, the cycles of the seasons, lunar growth and shedding.

I am sorry I was ashamed. Some days I’m angry, scared, sad. But just like denial I refuse shame. Because I love you. I accept you. I am patient.

by Jaye Elizabeth Elijah