Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 29, 2018

Life Coming Full Circle

It might not surprise you that I'm a full believer in serendipity. To be clear, I'm not a fatalist. Far from it. I'm actually pretty much of a control freak, and while I'm working on my woosah, I have a ways to go before generally just trusting life 100 percent. I blame it on not being able to always trust my brain. When you never know if you're going to wake up depressed, hypomanic, anxious, panicked, or feeling totally fine, it's kind of tough to trust the "out there"... whatever that "out there" is to me/you/anyone (not going to get into a spiritual/religious debate here so please don't go there). My point is, I don't believe I have no control over my life, but I do believe that sometimes, you can look at life and say, "Well, isn't it funny how that all worked out after all?"

To explain where I'm going with this, a little background. When I was 27, my now-ex-husband and I separated. I had just started my travel business less than a year before, gotten a storefront, and quit my jobby job. Our plan was to rely on his salary, some savings, and whatever small amount I made at first, until I got off the ground. Within a year, I was going through a divorce, living in my own apartment, and with a fledgling business that often required at least 50 hours in my office and plenty more at home. I was teaching group fitness and personal training for extra money. Granted, I was 50% of the decision that got me there (possibly more, in all honesty), but still... that's a lot going on. I was relatively happy, but also disjointed.


Around this time, I noticed that a new yoga studio was opening up almost literally across the street from my storefront. I had, gasp, never done yoga!  I was a group fitness instructor and personal trainer who had worked in the health and fitness industry for five years and had never taken a yoga class. Not one. Not because I didn't want to. I'm honestly not sure why. I think that, in fitness, as generally is true of me in life, I was scared of things I couldn't purely muscle through (once a gymnast, always a gymnast). And you cannot pure muscle your way through yoga (this is a lesson I'm still working on). Also, this was before I was diagnosed and medicated, but I knew something was going on with me.  Quite frankly, anything that calmed down the outside chatter had the serious potential to ramp up the inside chatter in my brain, and that was sometimes a scary place. So I had yet to set foot into a yoga class.

But, I vowed I was going to. I emailed the owners and mentioned that I worked across the street, found out when they would be opening, chatted back and forth. Still, once the studio opened, it probably took me a good six months to go over. I'm sure I made excuses, but I don't recall what they were. And then, once day, I ventured into a gentle yoga class. I was hooked. On the yoga, the studio, the fellow students (in a non-creepy way, I realize how that sounds. But I felt I'd found kindred spirits in class). I would take a long lunch hour and run across the street to the studio for lunch time yoga, staying late at my store to make up the time. A year or so later, a friend of mine in the class decided she was going to do the yoga teacher training. She asked if I wanted to as well. I didn't feel I had the money and time then. Or perhaps I just wasn't in a place that I was ready, and my brain substituted excuses. Still, I kept thinking "one day".

Eventually, life happened, I sold the storefront, and I moved (personally) across the bridge into Philly. I started a part time job, in addition to my business. I noticed that they offered yoga at my office. How nice, I thought! I should go - I've been missing being so regular in yoga. I figured it wouldn't be the same as "my" studio, but at least I'd have yoga nearby.

And lo and behold, one day I'm sitting there at the front desk, and who walks in but the owner of "my" studio in New Jersey. Surprised, we hug and she tells me that she teaches the yoga class at my office every week. Pretty incredible - I mean, the studios two places aren't even in the same state! I get back into taking yoga at work regularly and I'm hooked again.  Eventually, life happens (and this part is not my story to explain) and another instructor from the same studio begins teaching the classes at my office. I'm still hooked.


Inversions are my favorite.


Fast forward several years to this past February. I give my notice at my part-time-that-became-almost-full-time job. And within probably a week (guestimate, there was a lot going on at this time in my year), the application for the next yoga teacher training with "my" yoga studio went online. I applied the same day. I have a serious habit of talking myself out of things, mainly because I think I'll fail/be rejected/embarrass myself (OK I'm pretty used to the latter), and I find reasons not to do them. I didn't want to do that with this. It was finally time.

This past week, I was officially accepted to Yoga Teacher Training at The Grant Building (formerly Upcycle/Yogawood, formerly Yogawood - hence the website). Yesterday I got home to find an Amazon package with the assigned books for the training (I ordered them, to clarify - I don't have a secret yoga fairy godmother, though that would be awesome! It just made it more real).

I feel like life is coming full circle. I started yoga with this same studio (slightly different location) eleven years ago after my divorce. It helped me get through some pretty transitional times. Through ups and downs in life, location, career, I've stayed connected to this studio and its instructors. Last September, I got re-married.  And almost exactly a year later (a year and three weeks I believe), I'll be starting yoga teacher training at the studio where I uncertainly walked into my first ever yoga class eleven years ago, taking the next step in my yogic journey. Serendipitous.



Monday, December 18, 2017

The Most Important Thing I've Done Is Survived; and Sometimes, I Even Live

When you battle depression, you know that often the best you can do is just get through the day. You may not be breaking any records, or busting through your to do list, or even showering. Some days, getting through the day is what matters most. If you lay your head down at night in order to be here tomorrow, you've accomplished the most important thing you can - you've survived.

For those who don't battle depression or chronic illness, I think this is a difficult concept to truly understand. For them, surviving is second nature. They don't have to think about it, wonder if it'll happen again tomorrow.  They don't go to bed at night with the sole accomplishment of still being here. Instead, they look at the things they haven't accomplished: the house needs to be cleaned, they need groceries, they have to do this or that chore or task. And don't get me wrong, my anxiety rails through all of that too. Repeatedly. But the thing is, if I weren't here, if I hadn't made it, it wouldn't matter one bit how clean or not the house was or how full the fridge was.

And so, I admit, that sometimes my priorities seem a little "messed up" to the observer. The house desperately needs to be cleaned and I'm planning a hike or a day trip or a drive to the beach or something of a similar fashion. Or I'm relaxing, listening to the rain or enjoying the sunshine on my face. Sometimes, I go for a drive simply to enjoy the warmth of the sun (streaming through my new panoramic sunroof!!), the open air, and the musc. And understandably, people probably feel, If you're going to be out on a drive, could you maybe stop and pick up xyz while you're at it, because you're running out?! And yes, I probably should. I probably need bread or beans or a replacement light bulb or something from CVS or whatever it is. And I may stop and pick it up (ok, usually just the CVS, big stores give me anxiety). But you know what I really need? I need to have these happy, sun and fresh air filled moments  to pull me through when I cycle back down. If not, I'm spending all of the times I actually feel ok filling obligations, only to slip back into depression without being able to remember what in life there is to truly enjoy.

And so I perhaps do not make a very good adult. I do not see the point of spending the majority of my time doing the mundane things that will never be my legacy. I'm not saying I'll live in a pigsty or starve, but I just simply don't get the need to have this all perfectly done, all the time. And maybe there's a compromise. Maybe I can run into Whole Foods once a week, spend 30 minutes tops  (I can honestly get all my shopping done in this time), and have had healthy meals all week. And when I am running out of TP, I can stop at CVS for 10 minutes max. No need fora full day dedicated to these things.

I realize this is frustrating for people in my life. I wish I was content to do the everyday adult life things. I really do. It would be so much easier on those around me. Not to mention I'd have a full fridge on a regular basis, and a cleaner house. I know it seems irresponsible. And I'm trying to find a balance, I really am. I'm not sure where that lies.

Maybe it's just me. And maybe it's the fact that I feel my time to actually feel alive is limited, since illness hits me so often. But I just don't think I'm going to lie on my deathbed wishing I'd done more chores. I do think, though, that if I stick to those "have to"s, that one day I'll look back and think, What did I do with my life? And moments of life can be so precious, that I can't imagine why I'd want to live that way.

Me in Ronda, Spain, after a sunrise hike. The ultimate in enjoying a good day!