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Go back and read your story. But read it in the truth of how it happened. ⁣⁣⁣
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By what point in the story do we begin to see (really see) that our bodies became the main character?⁣⁣⁣
The star. ⁣⁣⁣
The cover model. ⁣⁣⁣
The protagonist.⁣⁣⁣
At times, also the villain.⁣⁣⁣
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And there we were, the real us, the real story, simply sitting in a supporting role.⁣⁣⁣
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We can start to see it play out when we felt we couldn’t wear that thing.⁣⁣⁣
When that vacation made us diet to feel worthy of it.⁣⁣⁣
When we stopped showing up in photos.⁣⁣⁣
The relationships we stayed in because who else would want a body like this?⁣⁣⁣
The sun we didn’t feel on our skin.⁣⁣⁣
The hugs we denied so we could hide our flesh a little more.⁣⁣⁣
The memories we didn’t make, and the stories we didn’t write.⁣⁣⁣
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But here’s the best part about a story of the living:⁣⁣⁣
It can change.⁣⁣⁣
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The pages are filling.⁣⁣⁣
They’re filling fast.⁣⁣⁣
There’s no telling when they end, and when the sum of the pages will be revealed.⁣⁣⁣
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We really tend to love playing the odds when they feel they’re in our favour. That eventually, we will find that perfect moment, and step in and start actively writing the story.
We’re just waiting for that moment.
Playing the odds.
Assuming them in our favour.⁣⁣⁣
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When I read back on my story and in the truth of how it happened, there are too many pages written by my body. Too many pages left empty because of that.⁣⁣⁣
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It’s time to step in as the protagonist.⁣⁣⁣
The body, our supporting role.⁣⁣⁣
And prepare ourself for the sum of our pages to be revealed.⁣⁣⁣
To live, hug, exist, create memories with no more empty pages.

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