Friends, starting yoga again was potentially the best thing I've done for myself in years.
The first week was hard. Like, really hard. I couldn't concentrate because of the dogs, and the in-person classes that I went to were really hard. I also found every possible reason to fail and blamed those things for my failure rather than trying my hardest and sticking it out. The dogs were playing too loud and I couldn't concentrate. Ruby had to constantly pee. Then she would whine when I put her in her pen with 15 different toys and a jar of peanut butter (not really, but that's what it felt like). Then the room was too cold. Then Ruby peed on my yoga mat and that was all I could smell even after I cleaned it thoroughly. Then the room was too hot. Then I had no clean yoga pants. Then the room was too cold again. The floor was too hard. My feet kept slipping when I got sweaty and now I have this thing going on with my big toes because I depend on them too much in the more common poses. Then Miles insisted on licking my face for the entirety of shavasana that one time. Then Rob didn't stop the dogs from playing and have a VERY energetic 9-year-old dog and a 5-month old puppy sit still for 90 minutes and that's a totally reasonable expectation so WHY CAN'T HE DO IT.
The thing about it was that I was scared. Of what? I don't know. Having more mobility? having more physical ability? An opportunity to not just sit my ass in a chair all day every day? Having to buy cute workout pants? That nothing will change in spite of my efforts (which is patently untrue, even two weeks later as I'm typing this)? The most unfortunate part of this was I spent a week being mad at my dogs and my husband in ways that they certainly did not deserve.
Then I did another week and it got a little easier. I found out the hard way that red meat is on the no no list for me and then in the middle of all of that and tried to do a Core yoga class while having a pretty bad reaction to it, which turned out to not be the most helpful decision ever.
Then Friday happened. I changed my scenery a little bit by doing yoga in my living room instead of my office, and I think that was one small change that made it instantly easier. I pushed myself to do all of the poses and move through the vinyasas, and it just felt...easier.
Then came my class that I went to in-person Saturday. I told myself that I was going to push myself this time. I wasn't going to automatically revert to child's pose if I thought I couldn't do it - I was going to do basically the yoga equivalent of a "no thank you" bite. You know what happened? I DID IT. ALL OF IT. It wasn't easy, and I sweat a lot and swore to myself a lot and I almost fell a couple of times, but I did it. To say I felt amazing was an understatement. I'd moved my body in ways it hasn't seen in years, and I felt so accomplished and amazing.
Then came yesterday. I was doing my class online and it was the same type of class as the in-person one from Saturday, a Flow class. I love flow classes! It was with a different teacher and I was doing it at home and I felt a little nervous because I'd never taken a class with this teacher before, but I was going to tough it out. This teacher was basically satan (not really, but I sure swore at her a lot.). My legs hurt so bad today, and I left that class mad that it was so hard. But I did it. Every bit of it. Even Lizard Pose, which is basically the worst pose in the history of yoga poses. Also, you can't see it in this picture, but that front leg comes down and away from the body. HOW DOES ONE EVEN CONTORT THEIR BODY THIS WAY AND HAVE IT STILL FEEL GOOD? I suspect I will never know the answer to this question. BONKERS. AND THEN THERE'S THE FLYING LIZARD POSE IN WHICH YOU COME UP ON YOUR ARMS. YOUR ARMS, PEOPLE!
What I've realized is that my block around exercise is totally, totally mental. I used to think that the problem was that I had this mentality of "what does it matter?" and while that thinking is problematic in and of itself, the actual root of that problem weed was that I start with the assumption that I can't do it. I can't do it and I'm going to give it up in frustration at some point anyway, so what does it matter? I was quitting before I even started! And then, if it got hard, my assumption that I couldn't do it was confirmed - see? I can't do it! I have been trapped in total black-and-white thinking about my ability to exercise for probably my entire life. Hello, gray area, very nice to meet you in this area of my life finally. I see you like the word "yet" at the end of my problematic thought here and that's uncomfortable for me, but it's getting easier. I appreciate your arrival and hope that you stay.
The moment you realize you're trapped in a problematic cycle of thinking is the moment you become freer from it, to a point. The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one, is what I'm saying. The thing is, I've known for years that I was trapped in this cycle, but I couldn't dig into the "yeah, but what's really happening here" underneath the "what does it matter" thought. I knew there was something there underneath it, but for some reason, I wasn't able to access it. Yoga helped me access that assumption that I can't do it and start to challenge it.
I'm not to the generalizing part of it yet, and I'm hoping I'll get there. I want to start running again and I want to mentally be able to tolerate hiking (what I've discovered is that it's about the pressure of summiting that I hate about it, so that's a step, even if I don't know what I want to do with that information yet), but I'm not there for either of those things yet. It's a process, as all things are.
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