This Body is Bullshit

Roots

There are gifts that stay with you long after the wrapping is in the trash.

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 point when I was barely holding it together — body a war zone, no idea which way was up. That poem became a mantra. I read it constantly. Sometimes with tears. Sometimes with a clenched jaw. Always with some version of okay, one more day.

The line that got me — still gets me — is about how she isn’t unshakable because she doesn’t know pain. She’s unshakable because she pushes through anyway. That distinction matters. I wasn’t strong because nothing was breaking me. I was strong because I kept going while it did.

I’ve since shared that poem with almost every woman I love — especially the ones who’ve gotten sick, or scared, or just temporarily forgot how much they could take. It’s not just a poem anymore. It’s a thing I hand people when I don’t have the right words.

Then my husband gave me a card. Inside was The Oak Tree by Johnny Ray Ryder Jr., and a note — private, emotional, straight from his heart. That card lived on my nightstand for a long time. The poem is about a tree that gets absolutely battered by the wind — stripped bare, branches snapped — and still stands. Because its roots go deeper than anything the wind can reach.

That’s the image I come back to. You can lose so much. Illness can take your body. Grief can take your breath. But if your roots are deep enough — anchored in love, in people who see you, in something that matters — you stay standing. Even when you look like hell doing it.

I’ve shared that one too. With people facing their own storms. I wanted them to feel what I felt the first time I read it — that I wasn’t alone, and that I was stronger than I’d realized, and that the wind eventually gets tired.

Both of those poems are tattooed on me now. Not the full text — just enough. One for Grit. One for The Oak Tree. Permanent reminders of who I am and who loves me.

Because here’s the thing I’ve learned: sometimes it’s not your own strength that gets you through the worst of it. Sometimes it’s theirs. Their words. Their belief in you. Their handwritten notes and unexpected gifts and poems tucked inside cards at exactly the right moment.

That’s what these two are for me. Not just reminders of what I survived — but reminders of who was standing there with me while I did.

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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.”