Changing the Story I Told Myself About My Body

For years, I thought this was a story about back pain. It turns out it's really a story about how I experience my body, the narratives I tell myself, and how those narratives quietly shape my life.

A Life Altered

Thirty years ago, I was hit by a drunk driver. My kneecap shattered, and in that instant, the direction of my life changed forever.

Not long after, I joined our family business. For nearly thirty years, I worked alongside my mom, pouring my heart into building something we both cherished. I loved the work, but somewhere along the way, I stopped paying attention to myself. I pushed through pain and ignored what my body was trying to tell me. There was always more to do.

Looking back, I realize there was little connection between me and my body. I used to joke that I lived from the neck up, but it wasn't really a joke. I rarely paused to notice what my body needed. I expected it to keep going, to perform, and to carry me through whatever I asked of it. I didn’t see it as a partner; it was simply expected to do its job.

The Painful Narrative

Over the years, my lower back would flare up occasionally. Sometimes it became so tight that I felt stuck. Those episodes were painful, but they also reinforced a story I had been carrying for years.

I told myself that because of my knee, my back, and the other aches that seemed to appear with time, I would eventually become an older woman who struggled to move. I imagined climbing stairs becoming difficult, walking becoming harder, and my world gradually shrinking.

It wasn't a story I thought about daily, but it lingered in the background, quietly shaping my vision of the future.

A Moment of Realization

Eventually, I realized I couldn't keep living inside that story. I didn’t know what my future would look like or what aging would bring. All I knew was that I couldn't continue living in fear.

It was time to give myself another chance. Another chance to trust myself and move my body. Another chance to stop living inside a story written by fear.

So, I made a decision. I decided to become an active person. Not to prove something. Not because I believed my body would never hurt again. But because I didn't want fear to dictate how I lived my life. I wanted movement to be part of who I was, not something I waited to do until everything felt perfect.

I wanted to hike, lift weights, travel, walk, stretch, and discover what my body was capable of instead of focusing on what I feared it might someday lose.

A New Perspective

Whenever my back flares up, I can almost hear that old story whispering, "See? This is what you were afraid of. This is the beginning of the end."

A couple of years ago, I would have believed it. I would have thought that every flare-up meant I was getting worse. I would have wondered if this was the start of losing the life I wanted. I would have been afraid to move, afraid of making things worse, afraid that my body couldn't be trusted.

Today, I choose to respond differently. I'm learning to listen to my body instead of fearing it. I'm discovering that pain doesn't automatically mean damage. Thoughtful movement often helps me feel better. I'm learning to trust that I can discover which movements support me, which ones ask me to slow down, and when my body simply needs more care and compassion.

Emotional Connections

I'm beginning to wonder how much of what I experience is influenced not only by my body but also by how I experience my life. What if stress changes how I hold my body? What if fear creates tension before I'm even aware of it? What if some of the stuckness and congestion I feel isn't only physical but emotional too?

I don’t have the answers to those questions. What I do know is that I don’t want to return to the old story. I don’t want every flare-up to predict my future. I don’t want to stay still because I’m afraid of what might happen. I want to keep moving. I want to keep exploring what my body is capable of. I want to keep living.

Choosing a New Story

Instead, I'm choosing a different story. One where vitality matters more than fear. One where movement is an act of self-care rather than something to be feared. One where I listen to my body instead of ignoring it, where I respect it enough to rest when it asks me to, trust it enough to move when it's ready, and remember that one difficult day doesn't define the rest of my life.

For years, I lived from the neck up. Now, I'm getting to know my body. I'm learning to listen to what it’s trying to tell me. I’m learning its language, rebuilding trust, and discovering what it needs from me.

The most important movement I've made hasn't been with my body. It's been with the story I've chosen to tell about it. As that story continues to change, so does the way I experience my body. I no longer see it as something standing in my way. I'm beginning to see it as something that’s been trying to communicate with me all along.

Looking Ahead

It makes me wonder... What other stories am I carrying? And which ones am I ready to let go of next?

As I continue this journey, I invite you to reflect on your own stories. What narratives are you holding onto? Are they serving you, or is it time for a change?

Let’s embrace the possibility of transformation together. Let’s choose stories that empower us, that lift us up, and that allow us to live fully.

---wix---