This Body is Bullshit

There are some gifts that stay with you—long after the unwrapping, long after the tears, long after the worst part is over.

My best friend gave me a Bryan Anthony necklace and a plaque with the poem Grit on it. She gave it to me at a time when I was barely holding it together—when my body was a war zone, and I didn’t know which way was up. That poem became a mantra. I read it constantly. Sometimes with tears in my eyes. Sometimes with a clenched jaw. Always with a feeling of, “Okay. One more day.”

“She is unshakable not because she doesn’t know pain or failure, but because she always pushes through…”

That line hit me in the chest. Because I did know pain. I had failed, or at least felt like I had. But I was still pushing. Still showing up. Still trying to create my own light in the dark. I’ve since shared that poem with just about every woman I love—especially those who’ve gotten sick or had a hard time. Those who’ve had to claw their way out of something scary. Those who forgot for a moment how strong they are. It’s not just a poem anymore. It’s a message. A reminder. A legacy.

Then, sometime later, my husband gave me a card. Inside was The Oak Tree poem by Johnny Ray Ryder Jr. I don’t think he knew just how much I needed it. He also wrote a note with it—something private and emotional and straight from the heart. That card? That note? That poem? They became part of my daily routine. My quiet moment. My grounding. Especially on the days when I felt like I was falling apart.

“You’ll never touch [my roots], for you see, they are the deepest part of me.”

And that’s the thing. Life can strip you bare. Illness can take your body. Grief can take your breath. But if your roots are deep—if you are anchored in love, in purpose, in people who see you—you stay standing.

I’ve shared that poem with people who needed it, too. Who were facing their own mighty winds. I wanted them to feel what I felt when I first read it: that I wasn’t alone. That I was stronger than I ever knew.

Both of those poems are now tattooed on me. Not in full, but in spirit. One for Grit. One for The Oak Tree. Not just reminders of who I am, but reminders of who loves me.

Because sometimes, when you’re falling apart, it’s not your strength that gets you through—it’s theirs. It’s their words, their belief in you, their handwritten notes, their unexpected gifts, their poems tucked inside cards.

That’s the beauty of these mantras. They didn’t just help me heal—they helped me connect. They became part of my story. And now, maybe, part of someone else’s.

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GRIT
by Bryan Anthonys

She is unshakable not because she doesn’t know pain or failure,
but because she always pushes through.
Because she always shows up and never gives up.
Because she believes anything is possible no matter the odds.

And perhaps what makes her beautiful
has less to do with what lies upon the surface
and more to do with what lies within.

She isn’t just beautiful because of her appearance.
No, she is beautiful because of the way she chooses to live and love.
In the way she embraces all of life’s experiences — good or bad.
In her willingness to bend but never break,
and in her courage to believe that the darkness can’t hold her
as long as she continues to create her own light.

She is just like a pearl — made from grit but full of grace.
She is unstoppable — she knows it’s not what happens,
but how she chooses to respond,
with perseverance in her mind and passion in her heart.

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The Oak Tree
by Johnny Ray Ryder Jr.

A mighty wind blew night and day.
It stole the Oak Tree’s leaves away.
Then snapped its boughs
and pulled its bark
until the Oak was tired and stark.

But still the Oak Tree held its ground
while other trees fell all around.

The weary wind gave up and spoke,
“How can you still be standing, Oak?”

The Oak Tree said, “I know that you
can break each branch of mine in two,
carry every leaf away,
shake my limbs and make me sway.

But I have roots stretched in the earth,
growing stronger since my birth.
You’ll never touch them, for you see,
they are the deepest part of me.

Until today, I wasn’t sure
of just how much I could endure.
But now I’ve found, with thanks to you,
I’m stronger than I ever knew.”