Life In A Body (4/90)

It is strong, except on the days when it is weak.

On days like today it is fragile; moving slowly, cautiously carrying the weight of this pain that I’ve ignored for a bit too long.

And on days like today, it angers me.

It has an agenda of its own for this day that I'd planned carefully. It has sapped my strength and I've done nothing more than was required of me.

And now, I'm sitting here at the end of the day staring at the six things remaining on my to-do list, the six things that were there when I woke up this morning, and it is staring back at me, untouched.

But this body is strong, I remind myself.  It is capable. It can conquer pain. It can and should be pushed to the limit. This body is mine. It does what I want, when I want.

And maybe that’s just it. Maybe I’ve gotten cocky, overly confident in the control that I have over this body. Night after night I fight the sleep that it requires, and ignore the pain that signals a problem.

And on days like today it is angry with me.

I too often forget, that as much as it belongs to me, I belong to it.