I have been looking through some old photos of a place I worked at many years ago. It was a place of joy and children. Of course, a preschool. What happened at this place I worked at for several years is that I was injured. I was placing boxes of heavy toys out daily on the playground and hurt my back pretty bad. I dealt with the pain for months, thinking it would heal, or I would heal or whatever you think, when you think you are invincible. I was not invincible. I hurt, and it hurt bad. I should have quit. I was off for many months trying to recover my back. Trying to get back to the children and the school I missed.
After the months of physical therapy, I finally was able to prove to the physical therapist that I could return. I was not ready. I was not ready physically. I was ashamed of the body that just was not working right anymore. I was also walking back into an environment where I was not welcome. I felt great shame, my boss told the families that I was not returning. She had not replaced me, but the families did not know I was coming back. I could have used their support. I could have used their prayers. I felt such shame for being who I was. I was not wanted there. I was not wanted by my boss, I was not valued by my boss. I spent months trying to get back to these precious children that I had these great memories with. I thought I was valued to them. I have to believe that I made a difference in their little lives, even if just for a blink of an eye in their lives. I fought to get back to them.
I felt great shame over what had happened. Ashamed that I did not lift right and hurt my body. But anyone doing the same thing would have had the same results. I was not okay with any of it then. I was afraid to speak up. I had not been telling my story because of the shame of the pain of my body. I thought if I could just hold on for a little longer, the following year, I would have my own classroom. That was not the plan for my boss. It is not what was written in my job. She hired someone else for the position I waited months, months I was in pain and stayed in pain, hoping the next year I would get that job. Then it was all thrown away by the decision of someone else. Not right.
I look back on how much time, years I have spent being ashamed of my body. I have had some times, like when I have finished my first triathalon or my 5th half marathon that I could not been more proud of my physical body. I need to get back that. I have no desire to run a half marathon again. But I am ready to enjoy my body. Tap into the joy of what this body has not only endured but has gracefully accepted. I will accept the fact that I lived in that past of shame. But in my new steps, I will not live in that shame anymore. I will live loving my body. Loving every stretch mark and feel that I feel as it makes me who I am. It is the only thing that only belongs to me. I am in control of what I do with it. To please it. To make it strong. I am this body and I will live in grace and mercy of this body. Because I deserve that much.
Quiet Intensity 