I am one of the 40-somethings who grew up in the evangelical churches of the 80s/90s who also carries body-related trauma that turned into disordered eating. Your writing gives words to wounds that I have acknowledged but haven't yet carved out time and space to fully heal, and inspires me to keep exploring how to love myself unconditionally.
Ironically I just started writing again inspired if you will by body related trauma and doctrines I grew up with also that led to a low and less than holy sense of embodiment. I still hear this doctrine today and a sermon within the last four years has been the hardest thing for me to listen because the little nuances and body jabs are enough to make my ears bleed and my heart grieve for every Sunday I couldn’t get up and leave less I risk losing my good boy title in the name of protest for the reclamation of my body I felt bridling inside me as a child.
Your writing inspires me to want to put more words to this for the sake of my own little boy and to find what feels good and honorable for my body’s wellbeing.
I am one of the 40-somethings who grew up in the evangelical churches of the 80s/90s who also carries body-related trauma that turned into disordered eating. Your writing gives words to wounds that I have acknowledged but haven't yet carved out time and space to fully heal, and inspires me to keep exploring how to love myself unconditionally.
I hope you find healing. And that it’s delicious.
Thank you for your wisdom within your words. I love you.
"Sometimes, we don’t get to choose the things that save us- we are just thankful when they do." Love this. Thankful with you.
This was so well put and sad to read.
Ironically I just started writing again inspired if you will by body related trauma and doctrines I grew up with also that led to a low and less than holy sense of embodiment. I still hear this doctrine today and a sermon within the last four years has been the hardest thing for me to listen because the little nuances and body jabs are enough to make my ears bleed and my heart grieve for every Sunday I couldn’t get up and leave less I risk losing my good boy title in the name of protest for the reclamation of my body I felt bridling inside me as a child.
Your writing inspires me to want to put more words to this for the sake of my own little boy and to find what feels good and honorable for my body’s wellbeing.
Thank you.