As a survivor, the phrase, “I want my body back” has come up frequently in my recent therapy sessions. I’ve had awareness of all of the perpetrators that took a piece of me. An awareness of how my body no longer felt like mine, or one I at least hadn’t had the power to claim. I’ve done A LOT of work. I am a fighter which is so ironic because my stress response is freeze and fawn. I feel alive as my recovery program has turned me into someone that can protect myself.
This morning I woke up feeling unattached and “dirty”. A lot like what it felt like most of my childhood. Without coincidence, I was at the store yesterday and found myself buying a body scrub. I decided to take a shower in hopes I would “feel better”. The sequence of events that occurred were so symbolic of my recovery. I wash my hair with a shampoo that brings gentleness to my nervous system because the smell is like a sweet hug. I use the body scrub that allows me to apply the right amount of pressure not to cause harm, but enough to wash away the disgust, the oldness, the things that aren’t mine to carry. I wash my face to give permission to be beautiful as I’ve spent most of my life not wanting to be noticed. As I get out of the shower, I have this epiphany of what just occurred. I felt like I just removed the past 3 decades of my life. I felt free. My skin was as soft as a baby. To protect it and love it more, I applied lotion. I brushed my hair and put face lotion on my face. To some, these steps might sound like every day tasks, but to me today, I took my body back.
