Today I asked my body what she needed.

Which, for many of us, is a big deal.

Especially for those of us who grew up learning that our worth depended on how small we could become, how quiet we could stay, how well we could mold ourselves to what others wanted.

We learned to look at our bodies with criticism instead of care. We learned to measure ourselves by numbers on a scale, the mirror’s reflection, or the approval we hoped would finally silence the ache of not feeling enough.

We learned to push our bodies, to punish them, to demand they look a certain way so we could finally belong, finally be loved, finally feel safe in a world that taught us to disconnect from ourselves.

But what if coming home to your body doesn’t start with more discipline, more pressure, or more striving?

What if it begins with listening?

What if it begins with noticing the stretch marks, the softness, the curves, the tiredness… and holding them with kindness instead of shame?

What if the journey of healing your body is actually about healing the wounds of rejection, abandonment, and disconnection that have lived inside you for far too long?

What if your body has been waiting for you to slow down, to soften your gaze, to rest your hand gently on your heart and whisper:

“I’m sorry for how hard I have been on you. I’m sorry for not listening. I’m here now. I want to learn how to love you.”

This is what returning home to your body looks like.

It is not a quick fix. It is not a before-and-after picture. It is a lifelong, sacred relationship with the vessel that has carried you through every heartbreak, every joy, every moment you thought you couldn’t survive, and yet here you are.

You are allowed to love your body exactly as she is, even as you care for her needs.

You are allowed to rest.

You are allowed to soften.

You are allowed to stop punishing yourself for not fitting a mold you were never meant to fit.

This is how we heal: by learning to love ourselves not when we are finally “fixed,” but while we are still becoming.

By learning to trust that we are worthy of care, of nourishment, of gentleness, of love, right now, exactly as we are.

Take a breath.

Place your hand on your heart.

Ask your body what she needs.

And when she whispers, “Could you just love me like this?”

Let your answer be:

Yes. I will learn how.

With care,🤍

Aniela