Permission to Rest

I didn’t walk to the beach today. And that was the kindest thing I’ve ever done.

My period came back after it’s 9 month long hiatus. I don't have a child on the way, just PCOS.

Isn’t it weird how it’s so much easier to be nice to yourself when there's evidence that something is wrong? It makes me think about why I used to take scissors to my leg, so that there was physical evidence that I was in pain. Something I could look at and touch, something so I wouldn’t play mind games to convince myself I wasn’t making it all up.

When someone else tells us we’re crazy and it’s all in our head, it’s called gaslighting. When we do it, it’s called a Tuesday.

But, that’s the beautiful of human nature. We will always search for a way to give ourselves a reason to believe our inner voice, even if we don’t realize it. The scars on my leg are beautiful because I found a way to say “yes, I am in pain and this is hard and it’s not something I can heal overnight”. 

So, today I believed myself.

I just got back from a 3 week trip globe trotting and restaurant sampling and all of this on an ankle I sprained the first day I arrived- so needless to say I wasn’t participating in many workouts. This was enough to set my body back into what I can assume was a body fat percentage accetable enough for my natural cycles to flow.

While this is a beautiful thing, it’s also a hard thing. I’ve worked extra hard these past weeks to love and love and love my body. I’ll never stop this pursuit. I’m not sure if my mind will ever stop the attack, but I’ll never stop the defense. No one speaks to my girl like that. No one calls her fat and ugly and tells her she’s letting herself go and gets away with it. My mind is relentless, but so am I.

So, naturally in the weeks leading up to my period I was moody and in my luteal phase. It’s validating now knowing that there was nothing wrong with me, I was just experiencing hormonal fluctuations.

But, I can’t help but try to feel my hip bone and feel a sense of urgency when it’s not nearly as exposed as before. It makes me want to make a whole new workout regimen “walk 3 miles first thing in the morning, no wait, make that a run. And then yoga when I get home and maybe squeeze in a Pilates class or a YouTube video and then if I don’t teach at night we can do a cycle class” and just add more and more and more and not breathe for a second because heaven forbid my body has enough fat to sustain life. 

I just- I thought my body would release the "unnecessary weight" once it felt safe enough. That’s what everyone says “I dropped the water weight literally so fast once I started regulating my nervous system and meditating and making my body feel safe” and yet I see myself, looking so puffy, and doing everything I know how to make myself feel safe enough to stop looking puffy. 

“Walking does wonders and is so gentle” so I walk a lot. I haven’t brought myself to go on another run since spraining my ankle, but I can sure as hell walk. I’m tightening, I’m toning, I’m losing, I’m dropping, and I’m making myself feel really safe right? 

I’m not so sure.

I am endlessly proud of how far I have come in my love and care for my body. The progress I’ve made in my feelings of genuine adoration and pride in my body and the way I treat it is exponentially better. I’m so grateful for all of the wonderful work I have put in to love my body on purpose. AND, there are more opportunities for growth. 

Which brings me back to today.

After a 2 mile walk this morning, I came home and filmed, edited, made homemade ice cream, edited some more, and by 2pm I felt I needed a nap.

“But I’ve just been sitting for so long today, I should go on a walk”.

The genuius idea of a nap on the beach popped into my mind, “I’ll walk there and take my book so I can nap and read on the beach”. It sounded so lovely in theory but I paused several times simply putting my swimsuit on to sit down and stare at the ceiling. 

“I don’t wanna get up and go on another 2 mile walk”, I protested in my mind.

“You’ll be napping on the beach so soon! The rest will be worth it”, a voice answered.

“But then I have to walk another 2 miles home”, already feeling the exhaustion.

“Let’s just do one thing at a time”, the voice reasoned.

So, one string at a time, I laced my swimsuit over my body, grabbed my beach bag, put some music in my ears, and began to walk. I got three houses down before realizing I had forgotten my book and turned back around. 

The second I got in my house, I thought, “You know, you could just drive, right? And listen to music and be there in 5 minutes instead of walking for 30?” A revolutionary idea, and one that brought a wave of longing over me.

I want to drive. I just want to drive and not walk. 

All it takes is a split second to grant yourself permission to rest, to chase joy, to listen, and the feeling that results afterward is worth it every single damn time.

I grabbed my keys, grabbed my book, skipped down to my car, and had the most wonderful 5-minute drive to the beach where my mind's monologue was “I'm so glad I did this. The AC feels amazing in here, my body feels good, the music sounds better, and I can’t wait to nap on the beach” instead of “I hate this. I want to go home. How much longer? I wish I didn’t walk. I still have to do this again when I want to go back home.”

So I might have missed out on 6000 steps, and God even knows if I’ll hit my 11,000 steps my Oura ring suggests today, but I know the kind of relationship I just built with myself is better than any set of abs.

I trust myself. I listen to myself. I believe myself. 

And now here I am, blissfully tanning under the sun while the white sand spreads out around me and the waves crash against my feet as I write. I lay here with a satisfied heart that feels safe to be in this body.

One day at a time, I'm choosing to fuel my life, not the perception of it.

xoxo, Bethany

journal entry written on 10/17/2024