I called a meeting with my body.
“Everybody out,” I yelled.
My nails slipped off my fingertips as blood dripped to the ground. My hair cascaded down my back to the floor. My eyelashes drooped and then fell. My lips parted, and my teeth toppled out. And then followed all the parts of me hiding inside: My pounding heart and tired lungs, my inept stomach and intestines, my small liver and kidney, and a number of other forgotten, unidentified parts of me plummeted to the ground.
“We need to discuss something important,” I told them. “I am not pleased at how my body is running. We are not working together as a team. We are not doing the best we can. Every day we are failing to meet the standards that have been set.”
“Whose standards,” a tooth piped up.
“It doesn’t matter whose standards,” I spat back.
“Why isn’t the brain here,” the stomach asked. I paused for a moment, surprised. Until now, I had not realized that the brain had neglected to join us.
“Well, I guess because the brain is the one who convinced me to call the meeting,” I said. “The brain is the one who told me that something is wrong.”
“But the brain is part of the problem,” said the heart. “Every day we all work so hard. We labor day and night to make this body function. It’s difficult, but we strive to do our very best. But even after all of that, the brain looks down its nose at us and says that it isn’t good enough – that we are worthless, incompetent and insignificant. The brain tells us that we will never measure up to the other bodies, even though we work just as much, if not more, most days.”
I looked down at my body in shock. There they were lined up, my capable teeth, my delicate but beautiful hair, my strong heart and my powerful lungs; there they all were, hard-working members of my body that had faced so many challenges without ever balking or giving up.
But I could see they were tired. The brain had been working them nonstop. It never let them rest. It always pushed them a little further; it always made them face challenges that were far beyond what most bodies were capable of. And even when the body succeeded, the brain told them that they had not done enough, been enough, were enough. It made the body feel worthless and incapable. It made the body feel as though it could never measure up, even though it was still working, still facing innumerable challenges and beating the odds every day.
The body was not the problem. The problem was me.
