The Body Doesn't Keep The Score

It is a natural rebellion against capitalism

Hello fellow shapeshifting kin ~ a couple of updates:

~ I am still nursing a bad flare, so am likely going to be a little sparse here. However, I’m working on a new project and I am so excited to figure out how to share it with the world when it’s ready (and when my body feels ready).

~ In case you missed it - I recently released a brand new TAROT DECK called The Fertile Void (a lot of the principles of this project are outlined here, and in many of my recent shares). Late Pledges are enabled on Kickstarter and pre-orders are also open!

---

Where I live, winter has been holding on for dear life.

It’s almost as if the contraction of the cold, the barrenness of the trees, the frozen ground preventing the flowers from blooming - all of it is within a tense, unrelenting grip, bracing against the warmth and what it will inevitably generate in all of us.

Spring is like a dam breaking, setting forth torrents of formidable momentum in all directions. To be in its path is to be swept away. Spring is like the awakening after the illness. A return to abundance, to full health and strength. Except - the earth itself is not fully healthy or strong. It is being siphoned from, extracted from, to ravaging degrees each and every day. No wonder it may be holding on to the last tendrils of winter for as long as it can. It may be anxious for what the deluge might bring.

Within my own body, winter has been holding on for dear life.

It’s almost as if my chronic illness, my fatigue, my heat intolerance, my pain - all of it is bracing against the internal spring and what it may inevitably generate inside of me.

The internal spring and summer are capitalism’s favourite seasons - the only ones that matter. My body may have once kept the score from past tensions, traumas and stressful periods. I have done the work to heal those hurts and I’m still not healthy. I know why.

I think my body is really smart. It knows what my narrative has been over the years. It knows that my internalized ableism has been loud. It knows that in the past, I’ve fretted and worried so much that, as a disabled, chronically ill person, I’d never be ‘normal’ - able to produce a ‘normal’ amount of things, do a ‘normal’ amount of activities - to assimilate, to be a part of the deluge. I sought doctor’s appointment after specialist appointment not just to know what was wrong, but more importantly how to fix it. Fix it. Fix it now. Fix it so I can get back to living a normal life - to be more productive, to be more impressive.

My somatic self knows that motivation and it’s not falling for it. It’s not going to get better for the wrong reasons. It’s not going on a healing journey to draw venom from the wound only to get bitten again. In many ways I believe chronic illness is the body’s way of protesting against the ills of capitalism and all it breeds in society. Yes, it is also the body balking at the weight of the world, carrying it, somatizing it - but it knows if it’s simply trying to be fixed. It’s trying to say - bitch, I am not broken. How can I be healthy if the world isn’t? Don’t force me back into that mould. I was not made for this. If you’re going to heal me, do it for the right reasons. Do it because you love me.

Until next time,

Love and wolves.

D xx