July 29, 2010

Gotta Love Those Meltdowns

Since my meltdown at yoga on Tuesday, I feel at peace.  I feel as though it's all OK.  I feel as though it's a waste of my time to stress so much, a waste of my energy to be angry at people and things I can't control.  I am still trying to make changes in my career but I am not stressing anymore.

Gotta love those meltdowns.

July 27, 2010

If you can, you must! But today I won't!

We've all heard the teachers say, "If you can, YOU MUST!".  But what if you just can't?

This morning, I lay on my sweaty mat in a heap of tears.  My teacher had corrected me on Seperate Leg Head To Knee and I got so frustrated because no one else has ever pointed out to me that my hips are out of line.  I didn't understand because I often get,"good job with your hips in line, Juliana!"  I had no idea what she was talking about. Her words made absolutely no sense to me. 

Now, in a normal situation - when I am emotionally stable - when I haven't had a nightmare a few hours previously - when I am not losing my voice - when I have not been dealing with allergic reactions to who knows what - I would have filed the teacher's comment away, made a mental note and asked after class.

Not today.  Nope, I burst into tears. Quiet tears, mind you.  But I felt my emotions start to bubble severely out of control.  I didnt' give a crap about Tree or Toe Stand - I just wanted on the floor.  But the floor did nothing to ground me.  My tears just started pouring.  I lay there during the Spine Strengthening Series with my arm over my face letting my tears collect in the pools of my sweat.  I kept thinking to myself - I can do this.  Physically I know I can do this.  I can lift my legs.  I can tilt my head back.  I can lift my whole body off the floor.  Mentally, there was no bloody way. 

So I said to myself, "Fuck this yoga shit." and walked out of class.  I wrapped myself in my towel, collapsed onto the change room floor and cried giant helpless tears.  I, then, gathered myself up and got my tired emotionally wrung out body home to start my day.  I thought I would feel exhausted all day but so far so good.

Maybe those tears on the mat were more effective than the tears I have been crying lately.  Maybe those sweaty tears have more meaning to me and will help me make the changes I need to make.  Maybe I have been trying to be so in control in everything in my life that I had to be out of control in my yoga to realize that it's OK to be a little confused, to be a little lost, to not be perfect.

And back I will go tomorrow.  And I will ask the teacher before class to watch my hips for me.  And if I have to cry again, I will.  But I really don't want to because I really don't like leaving the hot room...

July 14, 2010


Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve shown my face around here.  I’ve been having a rough go of it and the thought of writing about my yoga was more than I could handle.

The hot room has been hotter than any kind of hell I can imagine.  My muscles have been screaming – hips, calves, lower back, shoulders.  I have burst into tears a few times in the last three weeks.  Pranayama Deep Breathing was more like Pranayama Gasp For What Little Air You Can.  I’ve sat out Stick, Triangle and the entire Spine Strengthening Series.  I’ve been hiding in the far back corner of the room.  My brain would not shut off.   I had cut my practice back from 5 – 6 days a week to 3. 

And then one morning I asked a teacher about my Pranayama.  It was killing me that I could not breathe.  All he said was, “Fake it.”  I know.  Not what you’d expect to hear, right?  But you know what?  It gave me permission to just accept my practice.  To accept myself and yep, to fake it if I’m really having a hard time and feel like I want to scream and cry and fall down on my mat.

And now?  I’m back , baby!  I feel strong.  I feel on fire.  I still have screaming muscles.  I am still tired some mornings.  The room is still hot.  But I’ve found myself again.  I can look at my own eyes in the mirror again.  I like what I see and am happy with me and the simple fact that I am there, in the room.