My Body is The Enemy: Peace in Wartime

Every advice column, blog and article I read about loving my body, the first thing they say is that my “body is not the enemy” and that I “should love it for what it is” and I don’t know about you guys but that isn’t for me; at least not anymore.

I’ve come to the inescapable conclusion that my body is my enemy and has been from the start.

It pretty much reads like a cliche; born together, fought together, loved together but ultimately betrayed. See the only thing I can trust my body to do on a daily basis is to betray me. So I have to be smarter than it, faster than it, stronger than it so that whatever bombs it drops I have time to take cover.

My enemy is smart though.



And I will never be able to win.

But I will never give in and that is something my enemy can count on. My soldiers are tired, hungry, cold and they miss home but they know this battle is never ending and their loyalty is without exception.

We will never achieve true peace and I will never understand why and that is simply how it is. I know some would tell me to stop fighting and make peace, but if peace is one sided and you force it upon your enemy you only create more animosity. My enemy prefers to fight, so I fight.

Now don’t get me wrong- I love my body, my body simply does not love me. Somewhere along the lines my body got mixed up with the wrong neurons and started firing off shots at my nervous system and hasn’t stopped.

This is what works for me, this is how I deal with my illness. I can’t be passive and allow this shit to happen to me, that’s not who I am anymore. I’m a coward in every sense of the word and that is not something anyone ever wants to admit to themselves, but I am. But I don’t want to be. So I’m fighting.

I won’t win, but maybe one day I can deescalate to a cold war or something.