The love ran out a bit this week. A small crack had worked its way into the foundation and over time it wore away the veneer and the strength. Eventually a trickle came and then suddenly a flood of love poured out of my vessel, leaving me all but empty.
I have learned to love my body this past year. I’ve loved watching it change. I’ve loved feeling my own strength and power. And I have loved recognizing that I am so much more than my body will ever be able to contain or express.
I have loved this body.
But the love ran out.
This week I was diagnosed with Diabetes Type 2. That it runs in my family didn’t soothe me. That my body is responding to my medications provided no comfort. That I’m successfully losing weight and beating it back and it is absolutely reversible doesn’t make me feel better.
I learned how to love my infertility.
I learned how to love my PCOS.
And I learned how to love my obesity.
But asking me to love this diabetes is something I’m not sure I can do.
And I have struggled with that.
I’ve been hiding away in my house questioning everything I’ve said I stand for. How can I go on and on about self love and body positivity when right now I hate this body? I’m a hypocrite now. A poser. It was easy to love it when it wasn’t sick like this. But, now it is. And I fear there isn’t enough love for it.
I want you to know that I’m scared and I’m hurting. And right now the love has run out. For a while still I may be scared and hurting and the love might be dangerously depleted.
But, I refuse to give up on love. I refuse to give up on myself. I refuse to give up on this body. Because sometimes when the love runs out you have to just make new love. And that’s what I intend to do. Even if I’m just a little empty right now.