Imperfect Inversion

So this photo. My imperfect version of an inversion. A few degrees shy of the intended 90. Not quite right.

But perfect to me. Because for so long this body was too weak to stand at the stove and make a meal, too wracked with pain to go to the supermarket, too overcome with fatigue to make it off the sofa. A body locked in battle with its own immune system. Misguided blood cells attacking healthy tissue, mistaking friend for foe.

It was a battle with chronic illness I was determined to win.

First I tried the pills. A rainbow-hued collection of two dozen pills divided neatly into the compartments of my grandmother’s old pillbox. When the pills didn’t work I tried the infusions, hooked up to an IV pole in a sterile hospital room while my young children waited for me at home. And when the infusions didn’t work I accepted that surgery was my only option. Remove the offending organ and trust the doctors when they promise one day you’ll feel whole again.

So this photo. Evidence of what our bodies are capable of. We can heal. We can be strong again. Most definitely a few degrees shy of perfect. But there is grace in that imperfection.

And I can finally say that this body, my body, is just right enough.

Photo by: YogaJen

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