If you’ve been reading this blog lately, you know that I was diagnosed with celiac disease three months ago and discovered that I have soy intolerance shortly after. You know it’s been a rough adjustment in terms of changing my lifestyle. If you’re a friend of mine outside the internet world, you may also know that despite valiant efforts, my health is still far from fixed. I’m still bloated all the time and almost daily battle with nausea or abdominal cramps and pain. I’m tired a LOT. I still get hit by brain fog that feels like a massive hangover. I still get smacked with anxiety and brief times of depression.
Additionally, my eyes and mouth are now dry 24/7. I can no longer wear contact lenses due to this dryness and due to new allergies I have developed in response to the deposits my tears put on the contacts. I get headaches, which are a fairly recent development. Within the last month, my hair has started falling out more than usual. Somewhat surprisingly but I guess not so much so, I had bloodwork done this week that suggests that I have another autoimmune disease beyond celiac disease. I’m headed in to see a rheumatologist for further testing sometime in the near future.
Basically, it seems that my body is falling apart. And not because something is attacking it. It is falling apart because it’s attacking itself.
This is something I’ve had a hard time grasping and accepting. It’s very disturbing to think that my body is hurting me, trying to kill me. I’ve pondered this countless times, wondered at it, struggled with it as my new reality.
And I’ve come to a new realization through this, a realization that gives me some hope and comfort. It’s this:
I am not my body.
I am me, Kara, a soul. I live in this body. Yes, I tend to identify with it and call it me, but it’s not me. I am the soul living within this vessel, this transportation device I’ve been given to drive through this life. My body is not me, and I don’t have to accept it as me. I should see it as my vehicle, a vehicle I need to care for and mend during breakdowns. It is my responsibility to maintain it, but it isn’t actually me. I have no need to get too attached to it or to take its failings as a sign of failure on my part. It is a fallible vessel made from dirt, trying to function in a broken world.
I am my soul. I am Kara, and God knows my name. I am something bigger and deeper and so much more amazing than this body. And God loves my soul, so much so that he sent His Son to die for me so I could be with Him in eternity and have hope in this life.
And although this is the one body I’ve been given for this world, and it’s not treating me so well right now, it’s not the end-all-be-all. It’s what I have now, but it’s not what I have forever. I now put my hope in heaven, my hope in that day when we’re all healed and the suffering ends and we’re all together in our resurrected bodies. In moments when I literally feel like I’m falling apart and my face is stained with tears of frustration and pain, I can look upward and know that a better day is coming. God loves me, and He’s given me far more to look forward to, even after this body fails me.
I am not my body. Praise Him for that.