02/28/2026
I don’t identify as “sick.”
If something is off in my body, I don’t label myself as sick.
I see it as my body fighting something that doesn’t belong there.
My body isn’t weak.
It’s working.
Vomiting or diarrhea means my body is getting rid of something that doesn’t belong.
Day one, I rest.
I don’t push.
I don’t override.
If I need sleep, I sleep.
If I need sunlight, I stand outside.
If I need stillness, I allow it.
I use that first day to tune in.
To feel what’s actually going on.
Day two, I gently move around.
Nothing extreme — just enough to get things circulating.
I pay attention to what shifts.
When I can eat, I don’t eat randomly.
I pause and ask:
What will this do inside my body right now?
Will it support what my body is trying to do?
I drink water.
I limit caffeine.
I give my body space to do what it was designed to do.
Medication is my last resort.
If I’ve been fighting something for a couple of weeks and it’s not improving, then I reconsider.
That’s my rule.
Not medical advice.
Not a standard for anyone else.
Just how I choose to honor my body.
This is what trusting my body looks like for me.