My first time out of the house. I was taken to a Cafè – leg up.

I ignored the discomfort of my injury – too beautiful was the view of the water and the conversation and the breeze of being outside.
Behind me, there were 3 girls sitting – at least a decade younger then me – discussing loudly about a diet program they all took place in and one sentence stood out for me: „No! My thighs are not the worst part of me. The Tummy is what I hate.“

I listened inside my body to this strong words – a part of me relieved that I would never talk to him or about him in this degrading way anymore.
Yes, even with this injury and the challenges I found in this journey so far, I can honestly say, that I love my body. Even with this scar. Even with this metal inside (of course, this overall positive feeling is supported by my idea and visualization, that I am not „broken“ but just short-term out of order and that I will be completely healthy and fully recovered in the near future).

When I arrived home, this incident was still swirling around and so I asked myself:

Do I love my body? Yes.    But do I find him and me beautiful??

It is strange. 2 questions, that seem so similar, that I thought, the answers would be identical. That loving your body would automatically mean, that you find yourself beautiful.
And if you don’t – do you then really love your body?
Do you really love yourself?
Can you love your body without loving yourself?

Feeling beautiful – yes, I do know it.

Sometimes it is just there – without a drop of make-up on, me in my pj’s. Just because of a feeling state and a state of mind within.

Sometimes when it’s not apparent, I might get there. By putting on make-up, making my hair, being physically fit, dressing up, having a good laugh, talk to a stimulating friend, taking care of myself…I suddenly can see it on the outside more and with this make my way to it on the INSIDE.

But what if NORMAL has been shaken down. If everything that I normally see and feel as beautiful outside or within me, is just not available in this sense?

I am wearing the same worn-out mini-skirt for weeks now. It is the only thing I can get on and off by myself and the various food-stains on it, caused by me, trying to eat something in a weird one-legged position, don’t bother me at all;
the white compression hosiery for both legs have the same food stains and give me insane stinky feet, that I cannot wash myself;
my hair unwashable for around a week until someone can do it for and with me.

Wearing pretty clothes is a thing of the past. Practical use rules in the dress-department and I couldn’t care less about color-coordination.

The hairs on my legs and various other spots could be braided by now and my skin is in a very weird state in all kinds of places around my body. As I am unable to prepare any food, I live of microwave crap and have a hard time not giving into the sugar cravings.

The 25 cm long scar on a prominent spot of my leg hides away 10 foreign metal objects that hold my bones together; and I cannot get to my feet to cut my nails.

My new best friend is a blue bag hanging around my head, with which I can carry small items from A to B. My tummy turned blue and has various hard spots from the daily injections I have to give to myself; my world turns around 1 instead of 2. „1 leg“, „1 sock“, „1 shoe“; and I watch the muscels of my leg diminish by the minute and it shocks me.

When I look in the mirror, I see the tired and battered face of sleepless nights full of pain.
I look down on my weird look – half of it with an attitude of „I don’t care“ while the other half is ashamed of not fitting into the expected frame, society tells us to be as a woman. Always with shaved everythings, pretty to look at, in good shape, and positive spirit.

I never considered myself to be subject to these „rules“ and „pictures“ of women and beauty in the society I grew up and live in. But every day I am surprised, of how deep implanted these pictures are. That I don’t fulfill them in this very moment, makes me feel like I need to apologize and find a good excuse or justification „why I look so shabby“. Shame and insecurity comes bubbling up….about myself. About my body that I grew so fond of. About my leg, my feet, that I was always in love with.

Where is this shame coming from?
And where is the love for myself? For my „imperfect body“? Shouldn’t I give myself love, no pressure, so that the healing can happen in its time. Instead I am wondering, why my own beauty relies on the reflection from outside or the reflection I see in my own mirror?

How do you get to this self-loving place, where beauty is a term far beyond physical attributes and a land you live in, no matter or exactly because of your physical shape, feelings or injuries?

Share your thoughts with me.

What is KAIZEN for me today?

Today I really don’t know.

Truly & from the ♥

Ulrike