Wise Sack of Meat

Photo by Andreas Haimerl on Unsplash

Everyone says listen to your body. It's the (not so) new fad in the wellness industry. Your body knows best. The assumption is that our bodies hold all the wisdom, and we have to shut up and take it. Which, don't get me wrong, I understand how we ended up here. For much too long, women's bodies in particular have been silenced and disbelieved. Especially if there's pain, or, heaven forbid, hormones involved.

But in the same way that my body is not just a way to get my head into meetings, my mind is not just a passenger inside this wise sack of meat. My mind has wants and desires, too, and ambitions and a creative hunger that wants to do more, read more, go out more. My body doesn't always cooperate, which is fine, but to dismiss either one, I feel, misses the point. I'm the one doing the listening and the one who should be listened to, even if I am entering perimenopause.

Sometimes, I feel like my mind can't be trusted, or my body can't be trusted, or both. Because how do I know what's me and what's hormones (which is also me)? There is no clean answer on whether I should write or rest on a day I have a headache or the sniffles. And I know I'm supposed to be wise because I'm old (and if I'm not wise, then really what do I have?), but I don't feel wise. I don't have an answer. I don't want to go gently into the night, but I also don't always have the energy to fight the dying of the light.