I’ve been walking around as a head without a body for quite a while now. I wish someone would have said something to me because surely it was noticeable.
“Hey! You forgot to put a body with that head of yours!” Are people in this town really too shy to bring such things to a person’s attention? I’ve seen how they act on the Metro escalators.
Maybe I would not have heard their calls anyway. My head was stuffed with thoughts, worries, existential angst, podcasts, books on tape, and the very occasional music playlist. You name it, it was probably in my head.
With all this heady emphasis, my body went by the wayside. I strolled stiffly about town absent connection to my body, its primary role reduced to being a pedestal for my head.
Well, that’s not nothing, all heads deserve a good pedestal. But from tip to toe I am the self, and all this inordinate preoccupation with the head’s goings on severed the mind-body connection.
Part of it, I realize now, was due to some real body changes brought on in post-menopause life. The body is truly different as we age, and I for one waited until the last minute for that memo. I had niggles in unexpected places, my energy levels vacillated in new ways. I regularly felt a stranger in my skin.
Other reasons for this mind-body severing were due to significant life transitions and events necessitating significant mental energy to muddle through. I channeled my blood to the mind and starved my body for movement.
But – news flash – we are not modular! And any attempts to make us so will not end well. I literally stiffened up and lost sense of the whole me. I was concretizing, evidenced through regular stiffness and aches, and needed to make a change before I became a statue of myself.
I began to chisel away at the beheaded body I’d become and realized that the situation was not as dire as originally thought. I wasn’t limestone or marble yet, fortunately. I was more like an ice sculpture in need of some targeted melting.
Still, the journey to rejoin the head and body was a humbling one. It took such effort to make small changes. A little stretching here, a bit of running there (no podcasts allowed, I needed a media break!), cycling off and on. Ugh, why does it hurt so much, my body screamed at me. Why so weak and unbendy?
The head had its own thoughts. When did I become so bad at this physical activity business? Pass me a podcast to distract me from this reality.
It took some real head-body mediation over the last six months to return to a quasi-conjoined self. Let’s face it, I’m still trying to put distance between pedestal-with-a-head me to the whole me on a daily basis.
Every day, I chisel through physical activity and mindful eating. When I do, I feel better. Maybe not in the moment but afterward and over time, definitely.
It’s easier than I thought to put my head on a mantel and plant the rest of me in a closet. In the moment, it’s more comfortable despite the stiffness.
I must stretch and push against this separation and stagnation. Otherwise, when you see me on the street all I’ll be is a bust on a pedestal with a pair of feet sticking out.
I’ll keep chiseling and keep you posted.
Have you ever experienced anything like this? I’d love to hear how you got through it!
Chasing Mailboxes 