When the cold grip of male entitlement pushed my body from one corner of the room to the other, and left me bruised, shaking and crying in a corner – that is when I disowned my body. Ever since, I had harboured strong feelings of detachment from my body.
This disintegration was not one that was of malice, nor apathy. But rather, the understanding that the soul and not the body should be prioritised at all times.
More than once since I’ve made a conscious choice to live outside my body, I have been faced with circumstances that tried to hinder the growth of soul. I have been discouraged by circumstances, and yet, I have fought on. More often that not, I find myself contemplating on the days gone by, the days I sat on a floor, shaking with fear, numb with pain, pressing a blade to the inside of my thighs, so no one would see the fragility of my soul. A couple of dozen scars later, I realised, that the pain inflicted on my body was not going to cure my soul.
Since this realisation, I have been unapologetic in my demeanour when concerning happiness. Happiness, slips through the hands of time like sand. As such, conscious reinforcement and practice of happiness is imperative. I have relentlessly reinforced happiness, telling myself everyday that the peace of mind and serenity of the soul triumphs all. I am now a shamelessly self-ordained specialist in walking away from anything and anyone that drags me down. I live by four rules; Do no harm, compartmentalise, understand that everything – good or bad – is impermanent, walk away from anything that brings sorrow.
My body is just the vehicle, aiding the process of transporting my soul from this life to the other. While I will treat my host with the utmost of respect, the priority has shifted from painting the walls to nurturing my soul. Happiness is my purpose, and peace of mind; my goal. I might fail time and time again, lazed by the venom of negativity that seeps in through the cracks, but even on a cloudy day, I’ll keep my eyes fixed on the sun.