Years of abuse and neglect made it difficult to inhabit my own body. Over time, I learned that my body was not a safe place to reside. Rather than serving as an instrument of play, pleasure, and creativity, my body acted as a battleground. I became quieter, smaller, and less noticeable, all in an effort to protect myself. I isolated myself from others. I dissociated. My coping mechanisms were all unhealthy. I binged, over-exercised, excoriated, and self-medicated until my body began to break down. 

This combination of abuse, neglect, and unhealthy coping strategies caused me chronic pain and fatigue, insomnia, major depression, and PTSD. I lived my life as if a dark spell had been cast over my world. If I so much as dropped an egg on the floor, I would scream and cry hysterically. I knew these symptoms and behaviors were problematic, but I had no clue how to care for myself.

Listening to Pain

At some point, in a dazed state and suffering intensely, I purchased my first self-help book and started listening to Enya and Carlos Nakai on repeat in an attempt to calm myself. I cannot remember exactly what prompted me to purchase that first book, other than perhaps desperation, but the title, Phoenix Rising Yoga Therapy: A Bridge from Body to Soul, stood out. The image of a phoenix rising from its ashes gave me a sense that something else was possible for my life. Although the phoenix provided a powerful symbol, I struggled with the text, and often found myself thinking, “What is this guy talking about? I don’t get any of this at all!” It seemed my road to recovery ran through a pitch-black forest full of traps. With no one alongside me, I felt lost among the gnarled trees, armed only with a book I could not yet understand. 

I had to start small. Very small. Since I could not see my way through this pitch-black forest, I had to learn to sense and listen for clues along the way.

I learned to recognize that my pain, depression, anxiety, and other issues were signposts that I needed to pay attention and tend to. To do that, I had to be present in my body. I had to learn to pay attention to the most basic things, like the urge to use the bathroom, to drink water, to eat or stop eating. I had to improve my capacity to tolerate pain, anxiety, frustration, and depression in my body and mind.

Making Peace

It took a considerable amount of time and practice to become present to my body. I started with small steps like listening to soothing music, getting some exercise, and doing my best to eat at least one healthy meal a day. From there, I dug deep and found the courage to sign up for a ballroom dance class. I went once. The class was awkward and embarrassing for me from beginning to end. I moved like a malfunctioning robot with zero sense of rhythm or coordination. 

A full year passed before I took another dance class. I met a compassionate Sufi woman named Wanda, who taught Middle Eastern dance. She had the patience and good grace to help me get past my initial trepidation, and she taught me how to connect with my body one-on-one. Wanda also taught me the cultural background of Middle Eastern dance, which includes honoring both the body and its movements as sacred. I learned that my body could be a medium of safe and healthy self-expression.

My journey then led me from dance to yoga. The first four months I practiced yoga at least three times a week, and I hated it! It was so boring and annoying! I did have to admit, however, that the lessons I learned in dance translated well to yoga, and I definitely found standing in one position far easier than dancing. More importantly, the emphases in yoga were to stay connected to my body, to remain present in the moment, and to be attentive to my breath, my mind, and my urge for self-expression. This challenged me. I had to pay attention to myself on a level that I never knew was possible. Through the philosophy of yoga, I began to shift my worldview from battleground of darkness to a dimly lit path, and then eventually, incrementally, my path became more brightly lit.

In an ironic twist, that first self-help book I purchased turned out to be exactly what I needed. I simply wasn’t ready for its wisdom all those years ago. It was only after nearly a decade of growing and learning that I was ready to reread that book and become a Phoenix Rising Yoga Therapy practitioner, a decision that ultimately led me to Sanctuary Centers.

Over time, I developed the skills to become a more fluid, graceful dancer, and flexible yogini, though I still can’t put my legs behind my head. These are some of the gifts that emerged from those dark and painful places in my life. I do not claim to experience the sacredness of my body every moment of every day, but I do make a habit of paying attention to its form of wisdom and acknowledging and expressing gratitude for all the ways my body allows me to experience my life. I invite you to listen to the mindfulness practice included here and to be curious about how you pay attention to and experience your own body.

My Body is a Battleground – My Body is a Sacred Space – Meditation by Kathryne Jones is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.