To Be Fluent In The Language Of Your Body

I was talking to someone a few weeks ago about how we have a top-down approach to our bodies and our health. Let me explain….

‍

We act as if we have control over our bodies. We engage in “healthy” behaviors expecting a desired outcome. It goes like this - If I eat spinach and leafy greens, I’ll avoid getting cancer. It’s all quite specific - “Do X in order to get X” when it comes to our health.

We do a lot of acting as if. As if we can talk our bodies into new and better places. As if the brain is superior to the body (the old mind-over-matter argument). As if health problems are based on willpower and discipline or the lack of. As if our bodies will submit to discipline. As if we can control the outcomes.

We act as if…all the damn time. And it makes us feel in control.

This thinking creates a sense of safety, providing us with a feeling of empowerment that if we do the “right” things, we will get the “right” outcomes. “Exercise every day to live a long life.” And in the process, we treat our bodies like a commodity rather than a living, breathing organism that needs more than structure and rules. We lose a sense of identity when unexpected illness hits. We lose our humanity in the process.

What if our bodies need tenderness? Slowness? Compassion? Kindness? Flexibility? A willingness to change the plans? What if our bodies don’t need a drill sergeant but instead a loving companion?

‍

The Top-Down Approach

A top down approach says - “I’m going to exercise 5 days a week. And in doing so, I am going to be healthier and feel healthier. (I will also lose weight, build muscle, have more energy, etc).” It assumes we control the variables. It assumes a lot of control actually.

While there is nothing wrong with regular exercise (and it’s actually great for our mind and body), I’m curious about what happens to you and me when the plans change. When illness catches us unexpectedly. When an external factor disrupts our intentions.

How do we respond? Do we feel like failures for missing the five days and falling short of the goal? Or do we respond with self-compassion and allow for the softness of life?

What about the messages that our body sends? The words she uses in the form of symptoms? Do we recognize her whispers? Or do you ignore her until she’s shouting? Are we so divorced from our bodies that we just push the signals aside and power through?

The Bottom-Up Approach

A decade ago I attended a psychiatric conference where a bottom-up approach was discussed. The mental health field has operated as if psychiatric problems start in the brain, that the brain is the source and the center. However, a new idea was introduced:  that our gut is our first brain, and the brain in our heads is really our second brain. That what happens emotionally and psychiatrically for people has its origins and its treatment in the gut, not the brain (BTW we have more serotonin receptors in the gut than our brain). That our gut, our digestion, our health, our diet, affects our mental health.

‍

Now you might not have a psychiatric condition. But this style of thinking applies to anyone with a physical body (hint: all of us!).

A bottom-up approach doesn’t assume that if I take probiotics and eat a plant based diet then I  will have some measure of good health. The bottom-up approach doesn’t assume that if I exercise every day I will be in good health. That is still top-down thinking.

We are still looking at our body or health metrics as a problem to solve and conquer. It’s as if we are taking our bodies to the mechanic, focused on hacking or fixing a certain body part and believing it will usher better health (which is really an illusion for better control).

We don’t like to feel out of control in our bodies and we don’t like to admit what we don’t know about the human body and health. We don’t like to be surprised by illness or death. We do all we can to pretend, to hold on to the illusion of control. This is why a bottom-up approach can help us.

What if we pay attention to the leadings of our body? To the signs and symptoms she relays? What if we trust our bodies to speak what our minds are unaware of? What if we believe that our bodies contain as much wisdom as our minds?

‍

Can we instead use both - the top-down and the bottom-up? Can we hold on to the dialectic of these mindsets? What if we bring the knowledge around health and wellness to our lived experience and the feedback that our bodies provide? Can we exercise, eat leafy greens, care for our bodies AND also listen to her when she speaks and tenderly respond?

In my own life

For years, I lived a top-down approach. Doing all the healthy behaviors assuming it would translate into good health and energy. And yet I was missing important messages from my body. I had not yet become fluent in her language. Instead, I demanded compliance from her and expressed my annoyance when she didn’t submit.

I didn’t stop or pause to be curious about why medical advice wasn’t working for me. I didn’t consider what my body had to tell me. How she spoke time and time again through symptoms. I minimized and disregarded her messages, annoyed that she was sick or uncooperative.

I spent most of my life believing my body was a problem overcome, thinking If only I had more energy and shaming her for not being what I wanted her to be.

Then one day, I realized she needed me to pay attention. She needed me to slow down. She needed my curiosity and partnership. She needed my tenderness. My permission. My acceptance. She needed the gentler way. A different pace. She didn’t want to hustle or live by someone else’s agenda. To lose herself once again for the sake of being productive. She didn’t want to be treated like an object to force into submission or an obstacle to overcome.

My body speaks in unmeasurable metrics. The way I feel when I’m with someone. The energy that is exchanged in that interaction. The spaces I feel physically and emotionally well in. The beauty of nature that lights her up. The way I feel when I create art or read a really good book. The way the sun feels on my skin. The breeze through my hair. The way a hug feels. All of these experiences happen in my body.

‍

My body doesn’t care about my blood sugar or my cholesterol. She doesn’t care what the number on the scale is. She doesn’t care how many calories I consumed or how many minutes I exercised.

Instead she speaks in the unmeasurable. In the way writing energizes me. In the kindness of a moment. In the grief of a headline. In the weariness of a day. In the solace of community.

Are you fluent in the language of your body?

‍