Coming Home to My Body: A Lesson I Needed

The connection I share with my body has always been special. It speaks to me gently and consistently, nudging me when something is off. And yet, there is this strange disconnect when it comes to food. Even when my body whispers, “Not this… It’s not right for me,” I sometimes ignore it. Old conditioning, my love for food, the lack stemming from childhood,  the comfort of familiar tastes, and yes… moments of pure greed.

I haven’t quite figured out how to make peace with that greed, how to stop choosing convenience over care. But that day, my body made sure I listened.

My sister and I had gone out for sizzlers. When the food arrived, it was honestly unappealing, both visually and taste-wise. Still, we ate. Maybe because we were happy catching up, perhaps because we had paid for it… But it didn’t even cross our minds to leave it simply.

A few hours later, there was chaos inside me. My stomach felt heavy with nausea creeping up my throat, my breath shortening. I took lemon shots, drank water, tried to calm myself, and even tried to purge. Nothing worked.

And for the first time in a long time, I sat with my body, really sat with it, because I had no other choice. And I usually choose not to have medication for shortcuts. 

Alone at home, restless and uncomfortable, I closed my eyes and started breathing slowly. That’s when it hit me:
I have been ignoring my body for a long time. Feeding it what’s easy, what’s quick, what my mind wants… but not what it needs.

My body has been asking for energy, for life force, for nourishment I haven’t been giving it. Yesterday, I could feel its frustration, its tiredness… almost like a being that has been lovingly supporting me for years and is finally saying, “Enough!”

This body, this incredible, forgiving machinery, has carried me through every joy, every ache, every experience. It has never abandoned me. But I… I haven’t always treated it with the love it deserves.

So I placed my hands on my belly and started whispering the four simple lines of Ho’oponopono, over and over again:

I’m sorry.
Please forgive me.
Thank you.
I love you.

With each breath, something shifted. The anger in my body loosened its grip. The nausea settled. Release came in the form of burps—tiny sighs of relief.

I don’t remember when sleep took over, but when I woke up, the nausea was gone. The pain was still there, but the storm had passed.

I’m still figuring out what it means to build a deeper relationship with my body. But one thing is crystal clear now:
My body has to become a priority.

Not to look a certain way.
Not to fit into clothes.
Not to be presentable to the world.

But because this is my only true home.
The only companion I’ve had since birth and the one I’ll carry with me until my last breath.

I want to feel at ease in it.
Safe in it.
Connected to it.

I want my mind, body, and soul to walk this Earth together…in love, peace, and joy.

And that begins with choosing my body… every single day.