Listening to My Body (Even When I Don’t Always Trust It)

The bathroom floor is cold and unwelcoming. I squint at my phone, typing out an SOS message to my fiancé.

“Please come get me off the floor.” I type it, then delete it. Making it a statement instead of a question sounds too demanding. As another wave of excruciating pain shoots through my lower back, I try again.

“When you get a second, can you please pause your show and help me off the floor?” I hit send, then close my eyes, hoping to fall asleep while waiting for Devin to read my message. Except I don’t get the chance to because within minutes, the door opens, and he’s helping me off the floor. We walk to bed where he gets me water, my meds, and our heating pad. We say goodnight, and he goes to finish his show.

That was about five minutes ago. I’m staring into the darkness, thankful for the fan on my face and the heating pad on my back. Days like this are tough. Especially when I get hit with a flare-up out of nowhere.

I am an extremely stubborn person. I don’t like asking for help and I don’t like appearing weak. I’m pretty sure if I ever got into a car accident, I’d apologize to the EMTs for inconveniencing them.

I think this is something many of us deal with, no matter what our diagnosis is. The overwhelming feeling of not wanting to “be a problem.” Not wanting to inconvenience anyone. Not wanting to be known as the person who is always sick. Not wanting others to worry. That’s the hardest one for me, because if people are worried about me, then I start worrying about me too. Unfortunately, with the amount of information we’re receiving every day about what we should and shouldn’t be doing for our health, I already have enough to worry about.

It feels like no matter which way I turn, there’s something I’m doing wrong.

“Have you tried removing (insert item here) from your house yet?”
“You’re only taking 5 supplements? I’m taking 15!”
“You still do caffeine and alcohol?”
“Have you tried (insert fertility advice here)?”
“Limit your sugar, but also don’t use artificial sweeteners.”
“Maybe you’re drinking the wrong kind of water.”

These things are drilled into my head every single day. It’s all over social media, in advertising, at appointments, and more.

The advice never ends.

But in the last week, something shifted.

After connecting with an endometriosis advocate named Emma on TikTok (@sunshinemermaid222), I ordered her book and started reading it. I don’t have an endometriosis diagnosis and I’m not too far into the book yet, but I can already relate to so much of what she’s saying. One thing Emma strongly promotes is listening to your body.

I giggled at that when I first read it.

Listen to my body? My body doesn’t even have regular cycles and has failed me many times before. Why should I trust that it knows what it needs?

However, earlier this week, I realized something. My body does tell me what it needs when I actually take the time to listen.

This week in Michigan, we had a couple of warmer days. Nowhere near warm enough to swim, but I decided to walk down by the lake to look for turtles and frogs. It was still chilly, and my sweatpants were definitely the right choice.

The longer I sat by the water, the stronger this urge became.

I wanted to get in the water.

It felt like something was pulling me toward the water. My body was practically screaming at me that it didn’t matter how cold the water was. I debated for a while. I knew the water was going to be miserable. After all, two weeks ago it was still ice.

I stretched out in the grass and let the sun warm me up, trying to ignore the stabbing pain starting in my lower back and shooting up into my head. I hadn’t taken any pain medication as I had been trying not to depend on them every day.

As the pain got worse and the sun made me start to sweat, I slowly stood up, took off my socks and shoes, and dipped my toes into the water. Instead of focusing on how cold it was, I noticed how soft the grass felt under my feet. The lake was high from recent storms and melting snow, so I could walk on submerged grass for a while before reaching the sandy bottom.

I felt calm. This was an unusual feeling.

When the water reached my ankles, I realized my pants were about to get soaked. I turned and looked back at the hill leading up to the house. I knew if I went back now, I wouldn’t return.

So I looked down, shrugged, and kept going. I stayed in the water for over an hour. The relief was almost immediate. The pain in my pelvis and lower back faded quickly. I sat in the water with my sweatpants on until the sun started to dip behind the trees, causing a drastic decrease in temperature. When I finally got out, I noticed the back pain that had become consistent in my life was gone.

The next day was even warmer and before I started my work day, the urge was back.

Get in the water.

The thought of the lake stayed front and center in my brain all day. After work, I threw on shorts and started walking down our street. This time, the urge wasn’t just to stand in the water. It was to swim.

Within minutes I was in the water up to my hips, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go any further. I stood there for a while just arguing with myself. When the urge to swim didn’t go away, I took a deep breath and dove in. By the time I came back up, my head pain was gone. Completely gone.

For over six months, it had never dropped below a 4. Now it was at a 0.

I don’t know if it was the cold water having a numbing effect, the shock to my system, or even a placebo effect. I do know that the pain in the back of my head didn’t come back for two full days.

That felt like a miracle.

The weather has dropped again and it’s been too cold to go near the lake. However, I’m determined to get back in the water this summer, even if it’s early in the morning when it’s still chilly.

More importantly, I’m determined to start listening to my body when it tries to speak to me. I can’t keep ignoring it just because it doesn’t always make sense. Sometimes our intuition is right. Sometimes our body knows exactly what we need, even if it’s unconventional or temporary. Even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else.

I think listening to our bodies feels strange for many people, especially when we feel like our body has betrayed us. Maybe listening to your body looks different for you. Maybe your body tells you to rest, say no more often, or eat certain foods. Whatever it’s saying, it still matters. Listening to your body doesn’t have to be perfect. We just have to slow down enough to hear it. 

Looking at the pictures below, it is clear to me now that my body has always told me to get in the water. However, as I got older and less confident in myself, I stopped listening. I hope you take some time to listen to your body this week. Maybe it won’t tell you anything, but it also might surprise you.

With love and support,

Madison Spears