The Beach and Our Bodies

A couple weeks back my family drove down to the gulf and spent a few days with the rest of my family. My dad had rented a beach house and invited us to join. There were 10 of us there the first night and as the night got late, it was just my dad and I who were still up. We sat out on the front porch, facing the ocean, drinks in hand, and we just talked.

The conversation went from one topic to the next but at some point my dad was explaining how hard his physical therapy was after his recent knee surgery. While I was sitting and listening to him share I was overcome with emotion. I felt so much going on inside of me, tears started rolling down my face. It was dark, and I didn't think he would notice, so I told him about the tears and I did my best to put words what had brought them on.

In that moment, I just felt overwhelmed by all that my dad's body has carried in his lifetime. His body is currently healing from a knee replacement and in a few months he will get the second knee replaced. But his body has also carried decades of life's often brutal impact. He's been through car crashes and years of hard labor, but he's also endured maybe even more emotionally. Stressed to the point of getting sick, fighting through grief and even a divorce, his body has carried a lot. More than I would ever wish for my dad to have to carry.

I was connecting with new layers of compassion, gratefulness and grief for all that he had endured. And while I left that night incredibly thankful for that talk and those tears, I was also left with grief for myself.

I realized quickly that the tears that were so free for my dad were no where to be found when I thought about my own body. The compassion and care didn't come up at all. And it's not that my body hasn't endured hard things. Bumps, bruises and the pains from daily life with a body that's not living in a world as it was meant to be has been hard. And even harder have been years of emotional weight. My body and my nervous system have been pushed and tested in ways I don't normally acknowledge, let alone cry for.

I don't feel compassion come easily for myself. I don't honor the things I've been through freely. I actually believe another step in my healing process will need to include working toward those things.

My hope is that this conversation with my dad can be a touch stone and a spring board into more healing for myself. I think my body needs to be honored and cried for. I think the stories of my life need to be told honestly and their impact on me needs to be told honestly as well. It's in leaning into those things and searching for empathy and compassion that healing will come more fully. Dismissing and avoiding will only prolong that journey.