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| Yoga in a train station. Brisbane Australia |
I went to my first yoga class in months last Thursday. For those of you who know me, you know that yoga used to be my "thing." I practiced pretty much every day. Sometimes even twice a day. In 2006 I awkwardly took my first class. I was hooked from day one even though I was uncoordinated, falling down, and was extremely ungraceful. Imagine a flamingo trying to do yoga, all knees and awkward. That was me. Even though my first few classes were challenging and I felt like an idiot, I still really dug it. I stuck with it even though it felt weird. I had actually found a form of movement that I liked! I eventually felt strong, confident, determined and beautiful. This was my kind of exercise. It was slow and calculated. Calming. I could breathe and concentrate on only me and what my body needed to do. I could turn my thoughts inward and connect with myself. I craved it. I was even considering becoming a yoga instructor.
Then something happened. Once I relapsed back into my eating disorder, yoga turned into something very different. I started focusing on the wrong things. Instead of loving what my body was capable of doing and accepting that, I started to worry rather than relax: What did I look like? What body part wasn't right? Why were my arms so big? Who here is thinner than I am? Damn it, why couldn't I do this pose? Why wasn't I perfect at this yet? I wasn't good enough. Like many other things in my life, if I was not perfect, if I was not the best, I didn't think I had any business doing it at all. My practice became more about what I should be able to do and my expectations of myself rather than an authentic experience. It was no longer a release for me, but another thing to stress about. My mat got shoved in the back of my car under the jumper cables; forgotten.
I would occasionally go to a class here and there. I even got to do light yoga while I was away in the hospital for treatment. I didn't stick with it as I had before because it fell second to the eating disorder. I didn't fully appreciate my body. Inside I loathed its weak boundaries and incapability. But last week I gave it another go. Those true, original thoughts came back. The appreciation, the patience, the acceptance. I couldn't do everything I once could do but I was ok with that. I wasn't quite as flexible, I needed some adjusting, I had a little trouble following instruction. But it was alright. I accepted my imperfections. I accepted where I was that day. I didn't put any pressure on myself and it was an amazing practice.
During the final pose (savasana) I started to cry. Not a sobbing, earth-shattering wail, but fat tears rolled down my cheeks as I lie face-up on the floor. I figured they might. I could feel them rising up even before the pose and this wasn't the first time this has happened. Having an emotional release during yoga is actually quite normal, especially during that final pose. Even so, I was really hoping no one else would notice. After at first trying to stifle them back, I decided to let go and be gentle with myself. Instead of judgmental and critical of myself, I became curious as to why I was crying. I came up with this: I have been mean to my body. Awful to it really. I have been terrible to myself. While the kind words of my instructor pierced my consciousness, I took her words to heart. What I have done in the past, is past. I am forgiven. I forgive myself for how I have treated myself. I have abused my body both in the physical sense and the mental. No, my body is not perfect, but it is mine to take care of. It is the only one I have been given. Why have I punished my body so? Why have I denied it care, fuel, love and compassion? What has this body done that is so wrong and unforgivable? Nothing. It doesn't deserve the treatment I have dealt it. I don't deserve it.
So yeah! Wow! How could I not cry while coming to this realization? Now I wouldn't say that this one yoga class "healed" me. I have had a difficult time with my ED as of late. But, if I can bring this up again, if I can be gentle, curious and non-judgmental of myself, maybe I will be heading in the right direction. More yoga, more emotion and more connection. Namaste.
Live on!
-Kristy
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