processing body grief

After sharing

Brianna Campos

’s style story last week, I wanted to share this piece of writing from almost three years ago when I was working through some body grief of my own with her help. Content warning: this post is about my process of grieving the loss of a smaller body and unlearning anti-fat bias, while still being in a straight sized body with an immense amount of thin privilege. It may not be helpful for those who have experienced anti-fat bias their whole lives. This is my experience as a cisgender, hetero, able-bodied, white woman. There are many things I’m afraid to get wrong. I am sitting in that discomfort and I’m always willing to learn from my mistakes.

originally published January 2022

My body is changing. It’s changed before and I accepted it. Thinking that I should look the same way throughout my life doesn't align with my values. Not only do I not think bodies shouldn't change, I reject the idea that smaller bodies are more worthy, more beautiful, more stylish, or more healthy.

While my body is different than it was at other points in my life, I'm actually taking better care of my mental health than I ever have been.

So why am I experiencing grief around my body changing this time? My grief (can grief be a spectrum? I’m not beside myself with grief but I do feel deep sorrow) doesn’t feel as though it’s about moving into a larger body, but about the loss of something. I’m learning that my conditioning runs deep and getting this intellectually is different than it sinking into my bones.

artist: Ashlee Bennett, aka @bodyimage_therapist

To try and break down the reasons behind my sadness, I took Bri Campos’ Body Grievers course in December (I highly recommend it). Here’s some of what I uncovered:

First and foremost, I hate change. I hate moving cities, I hate moving homes, I hate starting new jobs. To be quite honest, I don’t even really enjoy learning new things. So change of any kind is hard for me, and probably for a lot of humans.

I learned that it’s natural to feel some grief when moving into a larger body because of the way we’ve been conditioned in our society. Through countless images and words in media, medicine, marketing, and advertising, we’ve been taught that smaller=better. I feel as though I’m constantly challenging this belief in my work when I talk to clients, but when it comes to my own body, it’s hard to unlearn 44 years of conditioning.

Asking more questions: why do I sometimes find myself thinking smaller body=better body? What were the rewards I got for being in a smaller body?

In many ways growing up, I felt I didn't "belong". My family was that family that ate brown rice and didn’t have a TV. That might not have been so odd in Brooklyn, but in the deep south, we were very different from most families around us. Being in a smaller body allowed me to have status and belonging in one area: the body hierarchy (see Sonya Renee Taylor for this, I hope to write more about it in the future. Ed note: I did). It makes sense I’d be scared to lose that sense of belonging, however misguided this fear feels.

Something else: words of affirmation is my love language (note: I recently learned the author of this concept is problematic). As embarrassed as I am to admit it, I enjoyed the validation and affirmation of compliments on my body. During the Body Grievers’ course, Bri asked me to consider where else I can get that need met. Still working on the answer to that one.

Another one of the questions Bri asked us was "what is the story you are telling yourself about your body?" I’d been telling myself that this wasn't supposed to happen to me. I'm supposed to look the same as I did in high school or college. It’s ok for other people’s bodies to change and I will celebrate them, but it’s not ok for me.

I’m sharing this extremely personal process because I want it to be ok that we feel this way. I want it to be ok that we feel this way, and I want it to be ok that we talk about it. That we can talk about the dissonance between being a feminist and struggling with this. The dissonance between wanting to make the world a more size inclusive place and yet struggling with our own personal body image issues.

As I’ve dug down into the grief, here’s what has helped move me along in the process:

• Focusing on my values (per Bri’s advice). Leaning really hard into the idea that if my values are that all bodies are worthy, then my body is worthy. It may be different and unfamiliar to me, but it’s still worthy.

• Another value of mine is that I prefer to accept myself as I am rather than force myself to fit into a past mold of myself. I would make the same choice every single day to work on acceptance instead of attempting to restrict what I eat or move my body in ways that aren’t joyful.

• Time.

• Doing the work, asking the hard questions, and sitting in the discomfort (Bri calls it "sitting in the suck") helps.

• Asking for help helps. Knowing that there are other humans going through the same thing and having the conversation helps.

I still don't love the new shape of my body. It's harder and different to get dressed. If you feel this way or have in the past, you’re not alone. You might be grieving that your body has changed or you might be grieving that your body never fit into what society considers the ideal. But your body is worthy, my body is worthy, all our bodies are worthy: of love, of acceptance, of existing. And it’s normal to feel sad, confused, disoriented, angry, or any other way when it changes.

Have you grieved a past body?

P.S. Topics like this one come up often in my group program, Making Space. There is a waitlist forming for the next round beginning in January, sign up for it here.