My spine and brain is a frayed electrical cord, short circuiting and sending confused messages to my body. I lose connection to parts of me; sometimes I look at my fingers and toes to make sure they are still there.
Broken connections to broken dishes: mixing bowls and glass measuring cups are the victims of my numb hands. I can no longer tell what's a normal fumble that could have happened to anyone and what's my confused nervous system. Every time I slosh wine, every time I drop my phone, every time I trip over nothing, I wonder.
Broken dishes to broken trust, as I don't know what to expect from my body anymore. Random surges of tingling, random muscle clenching, random weakness and tremors... my body is unpredictable and not in my control.
I have always believed in an embodied Paganism: a religion that doesn't deny the reality of being in possession of a body with needs and senses; a spirituality that acknowledges that we're animals and that we're natural beings; a faith that finds spirit and grace in the world instead of in the afterlife. But that was easier when my body was comfortable to inhabit. It was easier when I could trust my body.
This disease takes a lot from people. I won't let it take my Paganism, but some re-envisioning may be necessary to find perfect trust in my broken body.
