To My Body
A journey of dysphoria, joy, and a lupus diagnosis.
November 2024
You've carried me through life's tempestuous seas like a faithful guardian. You've been my sanctuary in storms, my anchor in chaos, my lighthouse in darkness. Through every metamorphosis and mountain, you've bent like a willow but never broken.
Society may try to cage you with labels, but you are an untamed force of nature. Like an ancient redwood, you've shouldered the weight of countless seasons, crushing burdens, and ethereal joys. You've waltzed with moonlight, embraced loved ones with tenderness, birthed creativity from your depths, and emerged from fires like a phoenix. You are not just part of my strength; you are the very earth from which it grows.
Thank you for your infinite patience as I stumbled toward self-discovery like a child learning to walk. You held wisdom in your cells all along, didn't you? Waiting like the dormant seeds of spring while I learned to see through the fog of uncertainty. Through metamorphosis, through the ache of dysphoria, through moments of radiant celebration, you've been my constant companion, evolving in perfect synchronicity with my truth.
I weep for the times I've wounded you with thorny thoughts and razor-sharp words. For every scar I carved into your canvas when pain clouded my vision. You deserved to be cherished like a sacred temple, not treated as a battlefield. You deserve to be embraced in all your raw, authentic glory.
Your resilience rivals that of mountains. Like a skilled navigator, you've steered me through the turbulent waters of depression, the suffocating mists of anxiety, the earthquakes of change. Each scar you bear is a constellation telling stories of survival, each soft curve a reminder that gentleness holds its own kind of power.
I vow to attune myself to your whispered wisdom, to honor your rhythms like sacred tides. To celebrate your magnificent capabilities instead of echoing society's hollow criticisms. You are not a mistake to be corrected or a puzzle that’s missing pieces. You are a masterpiece still being painted, and I am learning to love every brushstroke with the reverence it deserves.
March 11, 2025
You treacherous fucking vessel, you prison of bone and sinew! How dare you cage me in this perpetual torment? Every joint screams like rusted hinges, and every muscle writhes like a nest of angry serpents. You've become a labyrinth of pain, each corridor leading to new chambers of agony.
The world spins and tilts like a deranged carousel, leaving me clutching at shadows for balance. My head floats untethered above my shoulders while gravity becomes a cruel puppeteer yanking at my strings. Even the simple act of sitting upright feels like scaling Mount Everest; my spine is a tower of matchsticks threatening to collapse.
And the exhaustion, oh, this bone-deep, soul-crushing weariness that seeps through every cell like black ink through water. It's not merely tiredness. It's as if you've decided to transform my blood into lead, my muscles into concrete. Each breath feels like lifting mountains, each movement like wading through tar.
You were supposed to be my ally, my fortress, my steadfast companion. Instead, you've become a maze of mysteries, a carnival of chaos, a symphony of suffering. Each morning I wake to discover what new betrayal you've orchestrated, what fresh hell you've conjured from your arsenal of pain.
I want to SCREAM until the walls shake, but even my voice feels trapped in this fog of fatigue. I want to rage against this invisible enemy that's turned you into a battlefield, but I can barely lift my arms in surrender. You've reduced me to a ghost of myself, haunting the edges of my own life.
How much more will you take? How many more days will you steal, transform into endless nights of restless exhaustion? I'm tired of being tired. I'm weary of being weary. I'm sick of this sickness that has no name, no face, no mercy. I’m sick of you.
March 28, 2025
As we dance through this diagnosis together, my companion, you unfold like a resilient flower, revealing another stunning dimension of your boundless strength. Like a warrior, you persist even when inflammation weaves thorny tendrils through your joints, when fatigue drapes over you like a heavy velvet curtain. With the patience of ancient wisdom, you are teaching me to listen more deeply, to honor your sacred rhythms, and to cherish your whispered needs.
I see now the poetry in your signals, the eloquent language of your truth. Each twinge of joint pain, each wave of fatigue, each mysterious symptom was not betrayal but rather your loving Morse code, tapping out messages I couldn’t hear. Like stars trying to pierce through cloud cover, you persisted until I finally looked up and understood. You’ve been so patient.
You find new paths to flourish even when flares paint your landscape in darker hues. You're teaching me an exquisite new kind of strength—not the brute force of a storm but the sublime wisdom of a river that knows when to flow, pool, and seek new channels.
I pledge myself to be your devoted partner in this intricate dance. To gift you rest when you ask, to embrace the medicines that help you, to shield you from the harsh embrace of midday sunlight. I promise to nourish you with foods that soothe your fire, to move in harmony with your rhythm, and to stop when your spirit calls for stillness. Like intertwined vines, we grow together.
Lupus is but one brushstroke on the masterpiece of your story. You remain a vessel of infinite possibility—of crystalline joy, of boundless love, of divine creativity, of sacred purpose. We'll choreograph this new dance together, crafting beauty even from the challenging days. Thank you, my cherished companion, for continuing to carry me forward, unwavering as the North Star, even through this new chapter of our shared odyssey.
Thank you for being my buddy, forever and ever.
What a journey! So happy it leaves the reader on a positive note. The wisdom and pain throughout really makes me see how your maturity grows like a garden watered with struggles.