Our Bodies Know

 The day I was scheduled to begin a new job at a restaurant, I spent the morning meditating. I wanted to be in the right headspace to tackle the restaurant industry once again. I took my time focusing on doing my hair and makeup to look presentable. After ironing my dress, I laid it out delicately on my bed. Brushing off dust that wasn’t there, I took a deep breath and lifted it above me. As I pulled the black dress over my head, I felt my throat tighten, my breath fall shallow while my chest began to gasp for air. The dress, now hugging my body, suddenly felt five sizes smaller. I realized I was hyperventilating. Shakily, I made an effort to zip up the back of my dress but the zipper kept snagging. I turned to the mirror to try to figure out what I was doing wrong, and was struck by what I saw - a ghostly version of myself, shaking, tears streaming down my face, ruining the make up I’d taken so long to apply. I tore the dress off my body. The same body that was not cooperating. I felt ridiculous, and angry with myself. I needed this job, and yet I couldn’t manage the simple act of putting a dress on. I drank a tall glass of cold water, I paced, I reasoned with myself. I took several deep breaths and decided to give it another go. My body refused. Nauseous, my chest broken out in hives, and unable to take a deep breath from sobbing, I gave up. 

I had been out of the restaurant industry for a few years, and happily so, having found that time in my life particularly challenging. And by challenging, I mean deeply toxic. But after having difficulties making ends meet doing something I loved, I believed returning to the restaurant industry was my only option. I accepted a job offer from a connection, but quit before I had ever begun. My panic attack that day prevented me from going anywhere, from returning to a profession that compromised my mental health.

My entire life I have prided myself in my ability to do what I set my mind to, to be able to steel myself to handle anything, no matter the physical or emotional consequences. Yet, on the day of my return to the restaurant industry I had left behind, my body knew better. It revolted, teaching me that “mind over matter” can be a flawed philosophy when our choices mean ignoring our bodies and the signals they send to protect us. Without  restaurant work as a fall-back option, I was forced to consider different paths, explore other strengths, and to truly appreciate how important it is to listen to one’s body. 

I still stumble, sometimes ignore my gut and make problematic decisions, but each time I learn to pay greater attention to the wisdom of my body and the more I listen, the better choices I make for my life and my future.

By Emily Rose