Surfacing After Silence

Life. After.

Unfamiliar Body

My prior knowledge of menopause: You stop menstruating.  At some point when you’re older (like around 60?).

What I have now come to understand about menopause: Menopause is not this event that will happen one day; it’s a process.  You will–eventually–stop menstruating, but during the nebulous grey zone called perimenopause, you may wonder if some version of The Body Snatchers has taken place, because the body you wake up in is not the body you felt asleep in. And this glorious stretch of time is just that–a long, seemingly endless stretch of time.

My doctors in Baltimore had warned me that I may experience menopause earlier than expected–because of the eating disorder and because of the level/duration of prior athletic training.  So I assumed I’d just stop getting my period a little early and, well, who wouldn’t want that?

When I started having night sweats a year ago, all my bloodwork came back normal, and we attributed the then-random night sweats to stress or due to medications.  Now the night sweats are always worse the week before my period.  And I’m lucky enough to get hot flashes during the day, too.  And the length of my cycle has changed and it’s a bit heavier than ever before.

However, I have also acquired a whole new, unexpected body.  Okay, technically, I inhabit the same skin I always have, but the outline of my skin has changed.

he first time I went to wear shorts this year, they didn’t fit.  I was a bit confused, and wondered if I had put the shorts in the drier one too many times.  But when I got dressed for my next track meet, I noticed I no longer had to wear a belt.  Jeans and shirts that were once nice and relaxed could now be sold with the label “slim fit.”  While I have always worn maybe an almost-B-cup, my breasts now prefer a definitely-C-cup.

I am still letting everything sink in, and adjusting to these current changes that no one seems to want to talk about.  But it has been nice knowing that these changes have no other significance.  When I was struggling with anorexia, my size and weight were inseparable from my worth.  I feared my body’s curves and strove to make them disappear. I had to learn to disassociate my shape from any type of  judgment.  I had to say, “This is my size” as a simple statement.

Now I am once again relearning my body, and although I  no longer fear my body, I have returned to a practice that was an important part of my recovery, and that is to pay special attention to the final pose of my yoga sessions: savasana, or corpse pose.  A seemingly simple pose of rest, but one that used to be terrifying.  Lying there, open to the world, I was exposed and vulnerable.  This was intimidating on my best days, for I had never allowed myself to know my body, to be fully present in my own skin.

Again, I take extra time in corpse pose to truly rest and relax. I give myself time to trace the shape of my body on the yoga mat.  My goal is to feel each body part without opening my eyes.  I try to sense where my body is touching the mat.  I am relearning the curves of body.  Without letting my mind run away.  And without letting my physical body stand up and run away.

While there is no longer fear, there is an unfamiliarity that is unsettling.  But for once, I am thankful for the prior struggles with eating disorders.  Or, rather, prior exercises I did in recovery that allow me to claim this body as mine.

 

July 11, 2017 Posted by | bipolar disorder, Body Image, Communication, depression, diversity, Eating Disorders, exercise, feelings, health, heart, identity, mindfulness, progress, recovery, therapy, weight, yoga | Leave a comment