My body is not a temple. The metaphor fails me as an atheist and it fails me in its essence; my body is not a holy, peaceful, fragrant place. My body is a traitor, an abusive partner, a guy wielding a gun against silent protestors.
I found myself not breathing while watching a show last night. One could say Unorthodox literally took my breath away. I could but I don’t want to explain how PTS can make your mind-body behave when it senses a trigger/threat. Anything can make my basic body functioning pause: a tight chest and rigid fist from a movie, 10 straight days of no sleep or food for an exam. I would fall apart without the cultural appendage of a family force-feeding me juice, hugging me till my body eases.
A big part of my mental health troubles is this disassociation with my body. It has put me through a lot; the constant chest aches of my childhood, the PTS’ burning breathlessness during episodes, the biting of the insides of my mouth till it bleeds, a thing I started doing at 9 when mummy was sent to the asylum. More than the pain I am scared of the defiance it is capable of.
One hard time, it made chunks of my hair fall off my head. A doctor gave me medicines that made my face erupt in acne. Another gave me injections in my scalp, every month. I am not especially attached to my hair or my appearance, but this capability of my body to be sick no matter how many feel-good products, treatments, massages, treating like a temple, the constant reminder of it not working as it is intended to, breaks my spirit. I remember a call I made to H on my way back from the doctor’s, crying, saying that in this fight against my body, I give up. The rickshaw guy told me that I’ll get through it.
My therapist sent me to JPMR to teach my body to calm down and my mind to comply. I texted S, asking him if we believe in this, & went ahead with it anyway. What is there to lose? I had a panic attack in that session which led to my ‘this will help you breathe when you have a meltdown in public’ playlist. As a child, I was fascinated by the biology of our bodies. I’d ask papa if a body could go living if the brain was shot dead by Amitabh Bachchan. I think my body would; it would keep chewing at the inside of my mouth, keep feeling the needles in my head long after my brain dies.
My body is not a temple.