I hit a wall on Tuesday. My feet seized up so badly I couldn’t do any of the balancing poses and, while the rest of my body didn’t feel pain, necessarily, it was weak. Everywhere. Tip to toes, depleted.
Thursday was worse. My practice was beset by utterly ineffectual effort that… failed! I was straining, aching, sweating, shaking like a convulsion, worrying – “Am I injuring myself?” – and praying for the end of class. One step forward, 2 steps back, as they say. A most halting beginning.
3x/wk. proved too much to start, so for the remaining 2 weeks of my intro membership I’m content with 2x/wk. Then, I plan to join the studio and continue to stretch and breathe into the strength that will come. (I intentionally chose phrases other than “power through” or “push,” because my body is tired, working as hard as it can, and deserves love and patience.) I’m not as strong as I once was, and that’s okay. I don’t want to think in terms of force, which would hinder the process of growth, I think. I accept where I’m at and will continue to strive for my best.
I am scared, though. I entered Thursday’s class anxious for a repeat of the cramping of Tuesday, and got it. Worse.
Last week I lost 1 lb. This week, none. That’s okay, too. (Grrr.) 154, exactly. I binged today, for the first time this year. Three weeks is a long time for me. I feel pretty good about it. And I enjoyed my chips ‘n’ dip like an old friend. But I’m not even trying not to smoke anymore. Oops. (After the party Saturday…)
Oh! I haven’t even mentioned how much I love sunrise yoga! The studio is on the second floor of a downtown highrise, and the north and east walls aren’t walls, but windows! We start in the dark, yet, and watch the dawn sky change in color behind towering, snow-drenched mountains. I’m inspired.
I’m sewing, painting, creating. The drum I made last year with Marko got a makeover…
… and a white elephant gift got a facelift. It used to say, “It’s OK to have emotional baggage as long as it’s pretty and it matches.” I say it’s okay to have emotional baggage as long as you’re creative with it.
Speaking of bad Mormons, I’m not one anymore. I got impatient waiting on the feedback that must necessarily come through the attorney’s office, since I forbade The Church to contact me, save through him. He’s backlogged with thousands of clients’ removal requests and letters of reply, so I called the Church directly and spoke with a very nice man named Dave in the Confidential Records Office, who told me I was no longer a member as of Dec. 7, 2015. 🙂
I was baptized June 6, 1981, by my grandfather. That was one of the challenges of letting go, officially. Grandpa was enamored of me. I never felt such love. Invalidating ordinance work done by his hands, that he believed in, felt something like erasing him.
Dec. 7th was the Day of Infamy, Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor. My grandfather served in WWII, and died in 1999 at 74. Removing his blessing, I mourned him again.
It was the right thing to do, but there’s no question it was a death.