I went back to the chiropractor this past week, and immediately wondered why I ever stopped going. For me, going to the chiropractor regularly is very closely related to how I'm taking care of my body. It holds a special place in my heart. The first time I ever went was at the end of my last year of teaching, when I had hit my mental, emotional, and physical limits. I had been out of school for three days because I could barely turn my head, with so much pent up tension and pain in my neck.
I sat in her office for my initial exam as she asked me general questions about my health, stress levels, weight, etc. and tears just started rolling down my face. I hadn't realized how many symptoms I was experiencing until that moment, and it was a lightbulb turning on to what my body was trying to tell me. I realized it wasn't OK or normal to feel like this all the time, and that I could do something about it. I started paying attention to and working with my body, and making some serious life changes to get in alignment and stay that way.
I felt amazing, but then I stopped being intentional. I stopped reminding myself I was a living, breathing being and paying attention to that person. Busy stepped back in as the familiar enemy and excuse. We got hard news, I was writing a book, and I stopped making going to the chiropractor a priority. Not coincidentally, I stopped making other things a priority too, like making healthy food choices, and exercising consistently, even doing my hair and makeup regularly. My default under stress is to stop taking care of myself, to crawl inside my yoga pants and baggy t-shirts and hide under a messy bun, pretending I don't care.
I flew through a fascinating book, Women, Food, and God a few months back, and a few things have stayed with me and started to change how I view my body. While I didn't connect to everything she had to say, the author's overall message was how (especially as women) we are so disconnected from and disdainful of our bodies. We do things to them instead of for them. We try to change them because we hate them, not because we love them. We punish, deprive, or ignore all together. We feed ourselves crap, and wonder why we're starving.
It's a lesson I'm continually learning, how much my mind and soul are connected to my body. Living intentionally cannot mean living compartmentalized. You can't ignore one whole aspect of your being, but expect to be your best in other areas. So, I decided I did care. My weight had crept back up to that number I'd promised myself I wouldn't see again. My clothes weren't fitting, and I was uncomfortable in my own skin. I was tired, crabby, and unable to focus. So the past couple weeks, I've been focused and back on Weight Watchers, which works for me when I'm willing to be mindful. That's all it is, really, being mindful and consciously making choices. It's not about eating less of something, but more of the things that actually feed me. I'm moving this body and putting it to good use. I'm reminding myself that I'm young and capable-trying new things like biking, feeling clumsy and tired, but doing it anyway. I'm pushing myself to sweat and stretch; holding up my entire body weight in certain yoga poses, and focusing on feeling strong instead of on each individual pound.
This is a struggle I've written so much about here, and been back and forth with. But that's life, right? Continually reevaluating your priorities, and bringing everything back into alignment.
