My personal blogging was meant to end when I came home from China/Indonesia, however I feel that my new 30-day yoga challenge has become an extension of what I learned in my time gone. In fact, the last three months of being back have been nothing short of reflective, confusing, uncomfortable and a mix of trying to find my way back into this space I partly love and partly hate.
As I did the very first time I took a class here in Chicago after leaving the beautiful, serene heaven that is known as Samadi Bali, I cried in yoga today. I set my intention and went through my poses and breaths, and began to think. Why am I crying? I cry in church too, so perhaps it’s the link between God and nature and body that I’m feeling.
I expected my time as an expat to change me, and it did. I eat healthier, I don’t drink nearly as much, and I’m truly starting to let go of the anger that has built up over my years on earth. I’ve been single for almost three years now, and every time someone brings up the thought of dating to me, it brings on a whole set of anxiety. It was much easier in my 20s when I didn’t have—all of it. My childhood, my divorce, my annulment, my engagement, deaths of family members and now friends, abandonment issues, and lastly, the love of my life passing through my brain more often than not. How in the world can someone begin to filter through all of that and love me anyway when I’m just beginning to process it all? How would I ever be able to find someone to be more than HIM? I would love to pretend that I’m a teenager again, wide eyed and baggage free and ready to welcome love with open arms and positivity. But, I’m not that girl anymore, blindly awaiting the heartbreak ahead that would be in small doses, but wouldn’t really break until that day five years ago.
So here I am, in Shavasana (laying down on my back) wondering how to work through all of that and being back in the United States when I don’t really feel like I fit in here. I’ve felt “off” ever since I came back, and I’m trying to find my way just like everyone else out there.
Therefore, I haven’t quite figure out why I cry in yoga. Am I letting go? Am I missing Bali? Is it out of loneliness? It’s probably a combination of many things, but I think I have an idea. As I stand in the next day’s hot yoga fusion class, with sweat dripping off of me like never before, I stand in eagle pose and stare ahead into the mirror. And I smile. I cry because for those hot 60 minutes, there is absolutely no judgement no matter what “level” you are, no laughing, no loudness, no hate, no economic system, no anger—there’s nothing but you and your mat and peace. It’s the ultimate thankfulness. I cry because after 35 years of feeling so bad, I found something that feels so damn good.