My Beautiful, Capable Body

A few weeks ago, I was doing a morning meditation when I heard a simple phrase:

“My beautiful, capable body.”

I don’t know why those words hit me the way they did.

I’ve spent 48 years living in this body.

I know its challenges.

I know its stiffness.

I know its pain.

I know what it feels like when my mind wants to do something and my body has another idea.

But how often have I stopped and thought about my body as beautiful and capable?

Not very often.

I Usually Saw the Challenges First

When you live with cerebral palsy, it can be easy to focus on what your body can’t do.

For much of my life, I looked at my body through its challenges.

Walking was difficult.

Balance was difficult.

My muscles were tight.

I needed help with certain things.

I needed a walker.

My body didn’t move like everyone else’s.

So when I heard the words “my beautiful, capable body,” something inside me changed.

Yes, I have a body that is challenged in its own way.

But I also have a body that is beautiful and capable in its own way.

And one of the most beautiful things about my body is its ability to adapt.

Look at What This Body Has Done

This is the same body that has lived with cerebral palsy since birth.

It’s the body that learned how to walk differently.

It’s the body that has fallen and gotten back up.

It’s the body that learned how to use equipment and accept help when help was needed.

It’s the body that has adapted over and over again.

When I broke my leg, there was a time when I thought I might never walk again.

But I worked hard.

My body worked hard.

And I walked again.

Later, when I developed psoriatic arthritis, there were times when I wondered how I was going to make it through another physical challenge.

Again, I learned to listen.

I learned what worked for my body.

I adapted.

And I kept going.

When I look back at everything this body has been through, maybe capable is exactly the word I should have been using all along.

Then My Body Surprised Me Again

Recently, I went away for a long weekend.

And something happened that meant more to me than most people around me probably realized.

I walked around in a way I haven’t felt able to walk in about 20 years.

For someone else, walking around on vacation might not be something they would even remember.

For me, it was huge.

I noticed the difference.

I felt it.

And once again, my body surprised me.

At 48 years old, after everything my body and I have been through together, it was still showing me:

Don’t count me out yet.

Beautiful Doesn’t Mean Perfect

Maybe part of my problem was how I understood the word beautiful.

For years, I might not have put that word next to a body with cerebral palsy.

A body that moves differently.

A body with scars.

A body that needs help.

A body that gets tired.

A body that doesn’t always cooperate.

But I’m beginning to understand beauty differently.

Beautiful doesn’t mean perfect.

Beautiful can be a body that keeps adapting.

Beautiful can be legs that move differently but still carry me forward.

Beautiful can be asking for help when I need it.

Beautiful can be resting because my body has worked hard enough for one day.

Beautiful can be celebrating a walk that someone else might never think twice about.

And beautiful can be looking at a body I’ve spent years fighting with and finally saying:

Thank you.

I’m Learning to See My Body Differently

I don’t want to pretend that I’ve suddenly reached a place where I love everything about having cerebral palsy.

There are still difficult days.

There are still times when I’m frustrated with my body.

There are still moments when I wish something could be easier.

But I’m learning that I can acknowledge those feelings without overlooking everything my body can do.

My cerebral palsy is real.

My limitations are real.

My pain and fatigue are real.

But so is my capability.

So is my progress.

So is my strength.

And so is the beauty of a body that has spent 48 years finding different ways to carry me through life.

Maybe that’s why those four words stayed with me.

My beautiful, capable body.

For most of my life, I concentrated on what this body made difficult.

Now I’m learning to notice something else.

Look at everything it has made possible.

💚 Seeing the beauty between the challenges.

— Marie W.O.W.C.P.