21. Into the Body – Ruthie Lindsey
I disassociated my mind from my body. My pain—the physical, but also emotional and spiritual—was too much, too big. I thought it would swallow me whole.
I walked around disassociated from my body for most of my life. When I was a senior in high school, I was hit by an ambulance going sixty-five miles per hour, and I broke the top two vertebrae in my neck. In the wake of that accident, everything my body was supposed to do was performed by someone or something else. A machine breathed for me. The nurses thinned my blood with little injections in my tummy. I was a robot with skin.
Almost a decade later, I was struck with debilitating pain. I eventually learned that the wire they used to repair my spinal cord injury had broken and pierced my brain stem. I spent the next several years bedridden, dependent on painkillers. I disassociated my mind from my body. My pain—the physical, but also emotional and spiritual—was too much, too big. I thought it would swallow me whole.
But as my life unraveled, I realized I needed to learn to come back into my body. I needed to relearn joy, to trade morphine for small moments of beauty—a sunset, a field of wildflowers. It has been the hardest, most beautiful, healing act of self-love. And I know I’m not the only one. Many of us are walking around disassociated because of a variety of traumas. For many of us, our sweet little nervous systems are feeling shot, especially now.
– Ruthie Lindsey
Prompt:
Take a few deep breaths. Ground yourself in your body. Bring your attention to your sternum and your hands. Your legs and feet. Do you feel electricity? If so, where? Do you feel warmth or coolness? How is your heart? If you’re experiencing an emotion, where does it show up in the body? What color, what shape does it take?
Enter into your body as much as you can and then write about the experience—what you noticed, what you encountered, what you learned.
Anonymous
I’m trying to be here, now.
Where there’s an itch on my right eyelid and I reach my hand up to scratch it. Where my tummy tells me it needs food and I reach my hand out to feed it.
When I look inside, there are still remnants of the ghost that lives there. It’s a translucent swirl — up the insides of my torso. Stopped, blocked, by something in my throat. I can’t remember if he choked me. And the image of him, on top of me, with his hand on my throat.
I think a part of it is released with every exhale. Slowly, barely visible parts of him leave from my lips like puffs of cold air. So that every time I peak inside, there is a little less.
Sometimes it feels like cellophane is wrapped around my chest and the bottom part of my belly. It used to feel like my left arm wasn’t attached to my body. That’s the side he slept on. But that hasn’t happened in a while.
If I try my hardest, I can make light move around the darkest corners of my insides and make it all go away. Sometimes, I’m too tired, so I just sit with it. If I think about it too much, small sparks of electricity jump along the length of my arms. The swirls turn vomit green. My legs turn to lead, and I can’t move.
Sometimes, when I’m in anxious places — like the hospital where I had to convince dying women to comb their hair — I hear my voice, but I’m not sure it’s coming from my body. I’m watching myself and acting without ever deciding to. Sometimes, my defenses go up too fast and I’m running like I did once, on a beach, from a dog. Or I’m fighting like I used to, fists up and screaming at my brother.
After it passes, there is a calm sea that rocks me with gentle waves. I touch all of my fingers to my thumb. I notice blankets on my lap, clothes against my skin, glasses on my nose. I stomp my feet into the ground. Find the sun and let myself soak in it.
I’m back here, now.
Leah Langley
Location: England, United Kingdom
About: I’ve experienced a lot of social pressure in my life, and this has made me neglect my body. This prompt made me channel into my body and all of its feelings. It was a reminder to ground myself and be grateful for my being.
Age: 22
I spend a lot of time disassociated from my body because I’ve been brought up in a society that has taught me not to like it, and I’m sure I’m not alone in this. We live in a society that teaches us that our bodies must look a certain way to be considered ‘beautiful’. Our skin must be wrinkle-free and spotless for us to have the chance of being deemed ‘attractive’. We must have a certain number around our waist to be considered ‘fit’ and we must have flat stomachs to be considered ‘sexy’. We aren’t taught to appreciate just how special our bodies are.
Beating rhythmically against my chest, my heart reminds me that I’m living through another day. As it repeats its familiar melody it moves the necklace that hangs on my chest inscribed, “With brave wings she flies”, emphasising the power I hold within me. Placing my hand over it centres me in an instant and brings me back to reality. I’m reminded of the amazing work my heart is doing to enable me to carry out the tasks I’ve decided upon for the day.
My sternum stands strong protecting my vital organs from any injury the outside world may try to inflict. I’m not alone in trying to protect my body. There are systems within me that were made with the sole purpose of keeping me safe. The steady structure reminds me that although I don’t always look after myself in the best way, the anatomy within me will always fight its hardest for me.
My fingers tingle as they are brought to life with the injection of a new round of oxygen. They are alive with anticipation as they wait to learn what words they will be putting onto paper today. They get carried away as they channel the secret passage, they have to my mind to put ideas I didn’t even realise I have into my notebook. They are enjoying being used to reconnect with the side of me that has been lost for so long as they feel like they have a purpose again.
My feet tap rhythmically on the ground to the beat of the music playing into my ears. They are enjoying being allowed to freely move as my legs swing from my chair. They’ve been dancing away for days now, revelling in their newfound freedom as before, they used to be firmly planted on the floor as I churned out my essays. The more creativeness I’ve channelled, the more my feet have danced.
My body is alive with an abundance of colours and shapes that are fighting to be released from inside. My creativeness flows purple throughout my entire body igniting everything within me to bring my latest thoughts to life. The blue stream of sadness mixes with the red stream of anger, and the orange stream of confusion, to create a rainbow of emotion within me that sets my sacred rage alight to burn brightly within my soul.
My body may not look a certain way and society may not approve of what I look like on the outside, but they don’t get to witness the miracles that happen within me. I’m going to start allowing the colours and shapes to be released and I’m going to stop being ashamed. Without my body I wouldn’t be able to channel everything within me into these creative forms and that’s something no one should ever be made to disassociate from. Whilst society may not love my body, I’m going to focus more of my attention on doing just that.