This work is inspired by the section Consolation for Inadequecy from The Consolations of Philosophy by Alain de Botton. More thoughts and vibes after the piece.
One Step At a Time
This is NOT what I signed up for.
How am I supposed to be my best self, soar through the skies, run like the wind and swim like, I don’t know, a dolphin, in this?
Look at how it sits - misshapen, lumpy, soft. I had always wanted a lean, mean, killing machine, but instead, I got this - soft mushy sides, barely any strength and terrible stability. And don’t get me started on how quickly it runs out of power. This is ridiculous. Am I just supposed to make do?
I can’t make this work for me! I was supposed to achieve so much - my dreams are vivid and boundless. I crave power and influence. I live for excitement and adrenaline. I need to leave when I decide to, whenever I want to, without a second thought. I was supposed to be able to control everything - they’ve always said ‘Mind over matter’ and I was a fool for believing it for so long.
I, the mind, am powerful, limitless and enchanting. And this? My vessel, my - ugh I shudder at the word - body? Nowhere close.
.
In the dead of the night, the ego sleeps. She slowly gets up and looks at herself in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. The low, warm white, decorative lights she’d strung around the mirror on a good day is the only other source of light illuminating her reflection.
For now, she just looks. She looks at her unruly hair, her brown eyes that are plain old black in this light, the way the yellow lights reflect in them. Her nose too flat, her face much too round, her chin is that another? Her arms too big, belly too round, hips too wide, thighs too much, butt way too much.
She shakes her head to quieten her mind, closes her eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. Let’s try this again, shall we. Her hair, her brown eyes and the reflection of the yellow lights. Her nose, her face, her chin. Her arms, belly, hips, thighs, butt.
She’s still working on re-framing their narrative, some days are easier than others. More than anything, it’s just about noticing words from the unkind mind and replacing them with easier, better, kinder ones. It’s taken years of work to get here.
Neutrality has been difficult to get to, but positivity remains elusive. Maybe she’d never love every part of her, maybe she’d only accept them. Accept that she doesn’t look like the people on glossy magazines and bright screens, and she was never meant to. Accept that she can’t - run as fast as, draw as well as, dance as gracefully as - her narrative had wanted, pushed her to. Look at herself through the eyes of those who loved her and try to make the words feel her own - warm, compassionate, comforting, attractive, sensual.
There is a long road ahead, but she’s determined to get there. On her own two feet - that she once may have called funny-shaped and ruining pretty shoes. One step at a time.
When the student is ready, the teacher appears - Pumba, The Lion King 1 1/2
I read ‘The Consolations of Philosophy” by Alain de Botton in late 2021.
That year my anxiety was at its worst. I had burnt out at work and cried many times a day. Nothing worked anymore - therapy, meditation, yoga, journaling, podcasts about anxiety, everything. In June or July I reached out to a psychiatrist my therapist recommended. In September I went on a trip with a friend, spent about a week in Bombay, and felt like a whole new person. Existing without anxiety was special - I was funny, charming and interesting. WOW.
That’s when I read The Consolations of Philosophy. Montaigne wrote about the usually uncomfortable aspects of being a mind in a body and the embarrassing things our bodies do. The chapter began with this brilliant paragraph:
How problematic to have both a body and a mind, for the former stands in almost monstrous contrast to the latter’s dignity and intelligence. Our bodies smell, ache, sag, pulse, throb and age. They force us to fart and burp, and to abandon sensible plans in order to lie in bed with people, sweating and letting out intense sounds reminiscent of coyotes calling out to one another across the barren wastes of the American deserts.
Alain de Botton
Going on to talk about how even if we like to pretend, we are very much affected and contained by our bodies. And while the struggles seem shameful and personal, they are very much a part of the human condition.
Upon the highest throne in the world, we are seated, still, upon our arses.
Kings and philosophers shit; and so do ladies.Montaigne
An implication that much of our insecurities about the body come from thinking of ourselves as infallible. The body doesn’t care if it’s in a meeting, when it has to fart, it has to fart.
May we not say that there is nothing in us during this earthly prison either purely corporeal or purely spiritual and that it is injurious to tear a living man apart?
Montaigne
In conclusion, farting is good. Talking about farting is even better. I think this is me resolving to talk about uncomfortable bodily things as often as I can. Underboob sweat, buttcrack lint, here I come.
“I think this is me resolving to talk about uncomfortable bodily things as often as I can. Underboob sweat, buttcrack lint, here I come.” - Yay Safa!!!! Thank you for this initiation and resolving to join you.. ❤️🌸 Loved loved loved this piece…
Lol thank you for breaking the silence! Love the writing...taking mental notes :)