My body, my frenemy

Traitor.

That’s the role my body has played, and that’s the way I’ve treated it for the past two decades. We were in this together! And then it went off and made changes that I didn’t know about and certainly didn’t give it permission for. 

I’m a dancer. Every waking moment is devoted to bending my body to my will. So how could it do this to me? To everything we had worked for together?

In 1993, a diagnosis of a 62-degree curvature of the spine meant only one thing: a full spinal fusion using steel rods. My parents, reeling from this information, opted to do everything possible to avoid having the surgery, which would have effectively ended any hope of a dance career. So they sought out every spine specialist within driving distance. But for all of their research and discoveries into other cases like mine, they never shared any of that information with me. 

I know they were just trying to protect me. They didn’t want to overwhelm their 13-year-old child with all the details. But as a result, I felt both exposed, paraded around from doctor to doctor, and incredibly alone. I'm someone who needs to understand. To know what to expect and to feel that everything is in its proper place.

My mom tells this story about when I was 5 years old and had just started piano lessons. I sometimes practiced several hours a day, but the only problem was that my new baby brother’s room was just on the other side of the wall from the piano. So not wanting to discourage my practicing, but also wanting to let the baby nap, they moved the piano just to the other side of the kitchen. Well, apparently my little 5-year-old self would have none of it. I screamed and cried and refused to touch the piano for weeks because “It didn’t go there!!!”. I hated change then, and, if I’m honest, I’m not too fond of it now either.

I never had the surgery. 

Instead, I now work with an army of bodywork specialists. I have always seen us, my bodyworkers and me, as a united front against my body. Our job is to try to trick it into doing what we want. Because as it turns out, my body hates change just as much as I do. Any small adjustments and it reacts very similarly to me as a 5-year-old. It freaks out and throws tantrums resulting in aching joints, nerve pain, and muscle spasms. 

And so I push back. I passive-aggressively try to coax it into doing what I want. All the while secretly hating it for its past betrayal. I’ve come to realize that I haven’t trusted it for a very long time...

And I've never forgiven it.

In the past, I have tried to hide. I didn’t want to be seen as different. For a time, I neglected any kind of treatment because that meant I had to admit that there was something to treat. The past 5 years have brought a jolt of reality as my symptoms day by day have increased.

I am an external processor, which means I have to talk things out in order to even know what I think or feel. And I’ve realized that the only way for me to be healthy, physically and emotionally, is to acknowledge what is going on in my body and find ways to talk about it.

The problem with that is that then opens me up to others’ opinions and changes the way people see me. I don’t want to only be brave or an inspiration. I want to be respected for what I do, not because of what I am up against.

Part of my process is to try to learn to be present. To listen to my body and be honest about what I need, what it needs. Not what it needed yesterday or what I may or may not need tomorrow, but what best serves the needs of my whole self in this present moment. Not hiding or dismissing feelings of “not enough” that inevitably mix with comparison, insecurity, and fear. But finding comfort by relishing the small victories and recognizing the wealth of support and community I am surrounded by.

If I’m honest, I don’t know where I go from here.

This isn’t a story with an ending or an inspirational “coming out on the other side”. 

I know the only way forward is together. My body and I learning to live with each other one day, one moment at a time.