What's the story behind Letters To My Body?

Letters To My Body might be a confusing book at first glance.

Is it a coloring book? (I mean... sort of.)

Is it a journal? (Hmmm... you could use it like that... sort of.)

The truth is, it's neither and both, and something entirely different.

I came up with the idea for Letters To My Body while deep in the process of accepting a new progressive diagnosis.

I thought about how it can feel like I'm at war with my body.

Or how it can feel like my body has betrayed me.

Or even abandoned the notion that I might ever be comfortable again.

I know enough about humanity, evolution, and instinct, to be able to tell myself that these feelings aren't objectively true.

And I've done enough therapy to know that those thoughts and feelings are still valid.

It's messy.

I created Letters To My Body as an invitation.

Think about your body.

Think about the parts that cause you pain, the parts that bring you joy, and the parts that quietly support you every day.

And from there...

Just do what feels necessary.

Scribble on your bladder if it helps work through some anger.

Carefully color your knee to thank it.

Write a letter to your lungs.

Apologize to your stomach.

Celebrate your hands.

Write down whatever you need to tell that part of you.

Or don't.

Date your letters if you feel like it, and revisit them months or years later.

I'm not going to say something trite like, "The possibilities are endless."

But I do believe this book offers a gentle, open-ended way to reconnect with your very important body.

(You know... the one you literally can't live without.)

Letters To My Body isn't a coloring book.

It isn't a journal.

It's an invitation to an experience that you get to define for yourself.

You can pick up the digital download on my website, or find printed copies on Lulu.