What does it mean to "listen to your body"?

My body's wisdom and how on earth to decipher it

Hello lovely subscribers, today’s post is below. I hope you enjoy it and I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments (or tapping the heart if you’re reading in the Substack app or in a browser is so appreciated). If you’re a paid subscriber, the link for our Samhain circle, and the journalling prompts, is at the bottom of this post. I’ll be back soon with some reminders for this current cycle from Samhain until winter solstice on 21 December.

Two years ago I had a health scare. It came about due to a random result on a blood test I didn’t think I needed. I had some investigations which, thank god, turned out to be ok. The blood test was repeated and the result was normal. An anomaly perhaps, a ghost in the machine. Despite the all-clear I tumbled into a dark place of anxiety. What if they’d missed something? What if there was something else wrong with me? A door had been opened. Or perhaps I’d been on that track anyway, and the experience was a merely speed-train to a destiny I was bound to move towards.

One of the most frightening aspects was that I’d been feeling ok in my body. I’d had a few random symptoms, but no major red flags. The idea that something could be so “wrong” with me without me knowing begged the question: did I not know myself? If I’d been more in tune with my body, wouldn’t I have seen this coming? Been somehow able to pre-empt, to prevent it?

The line between listening to ourselves, being deeply familiar with our corporeal aspect is so blurred with our wish to control it. One of the toxic myths of the wellness industry is that, with enough effort and will, we will achieve “health”: freedom from illness big or small, longevity, even immortality, when in truth we can only influence, not dominate our bodies.

I’ve had smiling yoga teachers tell me to “listen to my body” when I’m not sure even they know what that means; hypnobirthing teachers skirting over the terror and reality of what can happen in birth when they say “just trust your body”. When my body tells me that it’s in danger, or that a second glass of wine or Krispy Kreme is a good idea, is it telling the truth? What about when it wants sleep, or sex, or to not to go my exercise class?

Even if we acknowledge that our most base instincts are not always wise, it can be hard to know which path is the right one. A few years ago I had a date to meet my sister and some friends for dinner in central London. I was sleep deprived and I partially felt that pull to stay close to home, to stay in my place on the map. Sacking it off would have been so easy, but something told me I needed the energy-injection of laughs, friends, gossip and people to bring me food and wine more than I needed an early night. On the train home afterwards, lightly pissed, I felt exhausted but elated. The next day I was tired but my heart was full. Right decision, out of many that have felt wrong in my life, when I ended up feeling like I’d either bailed because it felt easier or forced myself to do something to keep other people happy.

In the postnatal years, exhausted and overwhelmed, I knew I had to prioritise rest at almost every available moment. Small moments to lie down had to win out: I needed to balance the adrenalin that came from the lack of sleep with physical rest. But then I was missing out on some of the social interaction that would also balance adrenalin with endorphins and oxytocin. Should I go to that mum’s group and miss the chance to nap, or nap but not get to talk to anyone for the rest of the day?

Looking back at those years with great compassion for that version of me, I can see two things going on. Firstly, I can see someone trying hard to overcome a society-wide pattern of pushing on through, past a value system that regards rest as weak and something we should only do when we sleep. I feel proud of the way I learned to rest and protect myself. And I also see a pattern of staying in my comfort zone at certain times when it might have benefitted me to step out of it.

There was always the easy excuse of “but I’m tired”. I am still tired, though less often than previously, but I have a different view of what’s good for me.

I’m tired on a Monday night but going to my dance class is almost always good for me.

Stopping for a break from working on my laptop after a few hours even though I’m “on a roll” is almost always good for me.

Getting into a freezing body of water even though my brain is saying “what the actual fuck and who the actual fuck would do this and why honestly why and really???” is almost always good for me.

Good isn’t just pleasant or comfortable, though it can be (and often is). Good can be exhilarating and terrifying and agonising. Good can be tired muscles, can be rested muscles, is the satisfaction of facing our fears or of listening to our longing to stay safe and home. Our body is not one thing but a collection of inter-related systems. What messages are they sending us, these organs (including our skin and our brain), these neuro-receptors in every tissue of our body, this fascia and muscular structure, these eyes and ears and nose and blood and bones?

Perhaps “listening” to our body is about tuning into some deeper wisdom about what’s right in that moment for us alone, outside of prescribed “shoulds”, based on a collection of bodily sensations and wider information. That information might be what happened last time we did something, or how good a particular exercise is supposed to be for us, or an awareness of a previous fear or resistance about movement or stillness. What a complex thing that can be to decipher. Only we can work out what is good in any one moment: this is body sovereignty. We only learn through trial and error and we can be playful in our approach. We WILL get it wrong sometimes, perhaps often. The goal is not perfection but a constantly shifting process of calibration and re-calibration.

I’m going to write more about the idea of a window of tolerance next time, and explore how and when we might want to play around with it. Meanwhile I’d love to know your thoughts. What does listening to your body mean to you? What are the signals you’ve learned to listen to or ignore?

Thank you for being here x