Last night I lay down for shivasana after another, very intense yoga practice. I had been thinking to myself that I can’t do yoga, that because I couldn’t do all the poses well or correctly, I had wasted my time. I should have stayed at the coffee shop studying. Barbara instructed us to turn over to our side and pull our knees to our chest, arranging our bodies into the fetal position. I was trying not to cry, I can’t do this, why did I even come? She asked us to take a moment to thank ourselves for coming, for spending the time. The tears were gently streaming down my cheeks when I sat up and began to sob.
“It’s time for us to break-up” I thought, “I wouldn’t tolerate it if anyone spoke to me the way that you do, why should I tolerate it from myself.”
I wonder how many women have had a moment like this . . . A moment where it became painfully obvious that it was time to break up with themselves. I’ve made leaps and bounds, but knowing these things and changing these things are two separate things.
Barbara had us focusing on our base chakra last night . . . the red one . . . I tried to imagine things that were red while we were moving through the poses. Red . . . red like rubies, garnets, cherries, the tapestry hanging over the window, red light, red energy, red, flowing liquid, red blood pulsing through my body . . . it's always blood, it's blood that means life or death, blood is good, it means I've cleared out the infection of this zit, itchy means healing . . . I see my own blood almost daily. Violence. I draw blood regularly. Anger, hurt, destruction. Come back wandering mind, red base chakra . . . grounded, rooted, connected to the ground, to the earth. I should take a jar of playa sand to work. Red, swirling energy keeps me connected.
We had a department meeting at work today. This is going to sound vague, but I made a comment in response to something that was said . . . The comment has lots of layers about years past, certain survey results about us, and my own recent thoughts about the disconnect between my own reality and my own perception. (I mean obviously if I'm that terrible a student who procrastinates and wastes time and isn't good enough . . . how come I continually pull A's and B's? There's a significant disconnect there). (I want to be candid, but I am feeling vulnerable here too. Maybe it's all those warnings from dooce.com about writing about work in my blog.) I only meant to back up what was said . . . that it's never a bad idea to step up, to pull together, to work as a team, to do our due dilligence, and to carry ourselves as the professionals we are. Shan said that she hated to put me on the spot, but that I needed to give myself a break, she was worried about how hard I am on myself.
This came as a surprise to me. I have been comfortably riding a steady flow of good vibes for weeks and weeks. I'm tired, but I feel empowered about my semester, about moving to Summit Park, about mastering my finances, taking charge of my relationship with food, thinking about dating again . . . these are just the top things right now. I am changing my home environment because I don't like to be alone, and because I need the comfort of knowing that no matter what the positive direction I'm moving in is . . . I'll be supported. Even if it's weird.
My experience in yoga last night may be part of what made something visible enough for my friend to say something . . . but I still feel a little blind-sided. The conversation moved outside after our meeting and there is more I'd like to elaborate on tonight, but I still have to have a converstaion first.
I'm in the funk this evening. I have two writing assignments to hand in tomorrow and neither are written. I just don't have the energy to write the positive and empowering words I want to give my Women's Studies teacher.
I wish that the intervention I met with today had waited. I don't like it when people and events reach into me and pull my insecurities up to the surface of who I am. I liked them where they were . . . neatly compartmentalized, understood for the time being, put aside while I focused on creating better habits. I want to put my energy into doing the reading, writing the homework, practicing the recipes, keeping commitments to myself about what to spend my money on, what substances to ingest (no hydrogenated oils, and no high fructose corn syrup, etc). I am tired of not being good enough, and I felt like I made a significant leap into defeating that insecurity last night . . . to have it called to attention again, with an audience this time.
For the greater good of me, it was benificial. Every experience is a learning experience and I feel liberated because I got to tell most of my department today that I don't know how to ask for help. I got to hear that when they offer, I don't accept. I got to hear again from the people who have my back. I had to try not to barf for a minute though.
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