I try to do yoga every day. It’s meditative, it lowers my blood pressure, it keeps me flexible. I do it using an app called “Yoga Studio,” which works great for me. I’ve been on the beginner level for more than a year, and so far, no injuries, which is awesome, and I’m still not annoyed by the instructor’s voice, a miracle in itself.
Sometimes, though, when I’m in the middle of breathing, I’ll recall something from my past that is hurtful or some worry or anxiety will leak through and just knock me on my butt. It’s never anything I can predict, it doesn’t happen all that frequently, but when it does, it’s like a gut punch.
I think maybe it’s because when I’m practicing yoga, I’m trying to let go of tension in my body and there are some things in my head that I’m hanging onto as well. When I reach a point in a pose where I finally let go, other things come out, too.
I guess it’s a good thing. These tight spots in my mind aren’t helping me by staying lodged in there. It’s just surprising when it happens. And I need to take a little time to look at what’s shaken loose and resolve it.
Today’s episode involved a memory I had from when I was a child, about being buried in the sand by my brothers, who, after tamping down the area around my body so that I couldn’t move, pretended to leave me there. I know I was upset because I can still recall fighting down panic. What if they didn’t come back? I remember struggling to escape and failing and crying. I remember being teased again when they came back to free me because I was being such a crybaby. In hindsight, it was a shitty thing to do and it reminded me that this was my family’s M.O. Torture someone until you got the reaction you were looking for and then blame the victim for not being a good sport about it.
I had a long conversation with myself after I was done with yoga. Part of me was disgusted that I was such a whiner. That’s the younger me, who didn’t know any better. The older, wiser me felt compassion for her and offered comfort.