Wait, “Body Retrieval”? That’s a Thing?

A Shaman friend of mine once mentioned that just as soul retrieval is possible, body retrieval is possible too.

I admit I laughed a little.  Okay, fine. More than a little!  Because I have a body.  It’s right here.  I’m using it to type this and I’m pretty sure I’ve had it my whole life thus far

Lindsy's Hand

See?  Body!


So I laughed, because it’s still there.  It didn’t go anywhere.

Except that’s not what body (or soul) loss is.  It took me a bit to figure it out.  I didn’t actually lose my body.  I cut myself off from certain aspects of it.  I still have access to the aspects needed to function.  I can type, I can walk, I can feed myself and go up and down the stairs.  But there are some that are terrifying to me, like being touched by people without warning.

And then there are others that just don’t register, like the pleasure of running my hand through my freshly-cleaned hair.  Like the absolute freedom of dancing stark naked in my living room to Janet Jackson’s “Together Again”.  I cut myself off from it.  Because it’s body-pleasure.

I’ve been on a vendetta against my body for about two decades now.  Ever since I realized that in our culture, and in my family, “fat”is anathema.  Anathema in the very biblical sense, where something is dedicated to evil and, thus, accursed.  The rape just encouraged me to double down on that vendetta because I blamed my body.

I blamed my body for a lot of reasons.  All of them good.  All of them horrible.  I am “fat” no matter what I do.  I came when I was raped. I have asthma.  My uterus is prolapsed.  So many more.  All of them good.  All of them horrible.

So I cut myself off from the “scary” parts.  My body was the enemy.  I am not my body.  I am a person who is driving a meat suit.  The meat suit is separate from “me”.  And I lived like that for a long time.

Then I realized that I’m not riding the meat suit; the meat suit and I are one.

At the time it was the way I chose to deal with a very serious problem, and it worked for a time.  Because all stop-gap measures work for a time.  It’s not working anymore.  Because I’ve split myself in two, and a house divided in that fashion makes every look at my uncovered body uncomfortable.

So now that I know, I’m working on “body retrieval”.  I need to get back what I tried to get rid of.