I’ve realized that over the past several days, weeks, months, my overriding emotion has been happiness. Or, at least, contentment. I am feeling strong in my recovery and have tried to treat my body with more respect and compassion.
I read a book recently which didn’t really provide any new information or insight, but it did ask a question that I have thought about: When you were at your “best” looking, were you treating your body the worst? And, of course, my answer was/is YES. Hands down. And, I was so far into it that of course I never even recognized it as my “best”.
I’ve started to realize that my body has a say in this game, too. I have some say in how it looks, but less and less as I get older. It also has a voice and a right to say it’s tired, or that it’s happier at a larger size than I may be comfortable with. I’m trying harder to listen.
I’m trying harder to be grateful. I am SO proud of the things my body can and does accomplish on the daily. There’s nothing I feel like I can’t do–if I wanted to run a marathon, I could. If there’s something I need to lift or flights of stairs to climb, I can without strain.
In short, I’m feeling content these days. Many days, when I’m with my kids and husband, I feel downright happy.