Some of you may know that I've been participating in a introductory one month unlimited yoga period at Junction 9 Yoga & Pilates. It's a great studio. It's clean and beautiful. They do classes on the roof and the lockers are free. I do not have a single complaint about it, although, this is my blog, so you know that I have a complaint about something.
I did a lot of yoga and body weight exercise when I was in theatre school, and have kept up periodically since. Mostly at home on my own. But as I have recently become way older than I was seven years ago, I decided I needed more structure in order to stay healthy, connected to my body, and work off some of the beer I consume, etc.
I was beyond intimidated to start a formal "practice" for many reasons. I was worried that I wasn't thin enough, or strong enough or committed enough to dedicate myself to this journey. I was also concerned about judgement from the type of people I imagined would attend class there. (IRONY) I was so concerned that I bought a bunch of new shit to make myself feel legit. Like, if I looked the part, no one would be able to tell I was a petrified, slightly plump, relative noob. I'm not going to lie, it did actually help. I was able to put on my costume, take a class with a friend and I instantly felt like I had made the right choice for myself. I've attended eleven classes in twenty-three days and I feel really good about that number.
As with everything, there are good days and bad. Yesterday was a bad day. I was running late. I got caught in traffic. The parking lot was full. My locker wouldn't stop beeping at me. When I got out of one of the stalls, someone had left their glass coffee mug and mat on the bathroom counter and when I went to wash my hands, it unraveled and hit the mug and then it shattered everywhere and got glass in my foot and also cut my finger real deep. When I got to the roof, the only spot left was next to all the flower pots and that was really bad for my allergies. I tried to let all that go when I hit the mat, but I unfortunately I allowed all that outside stuff to get the best of me and I struggled. It's not always easy, even if it's worth it.
But, today was a new day. I marched into the studio full of pep and vigor and zen and whatever else you expect a yoga person to bursting with. I settled into a challenging, but rewarding practice. The instructors are always supportive and helpful and today was no exception. Although she did say that you can prevent cervical cancer by breathing into your pelvis, which has so many problems I don't even know where to begin, but I digress. Even though my thunder thigh slipped off a foam block and I had to put my foot down a few times (literally, not figuratively), I still felt accomplished, confident- like I was moving forward and I had put the shitty, uncertain experience of yesterday behind me. Go me!
I began to roll up my mat, sweaty and a little sore, but feeling pretty good. I has pushed myself and I wasn't finding ease in every movement, but dammit, I did the thing to the best of my ability. Go me, again! Until this happened: The woman next to me decided that I was in dire need of her advice. "Don't worry. It get's better," she said like I was a closeted teen in need of a brighter outlook. I met her gaze. "I had no idea what was going on at first, either," she continued, oblivious to my budding humiliation and rage. "But, it does get easier, if you keep at it, so don't get discouraged," she eventually concluded after many minutes of outlining her entire four-month yoga career to my stony silence. She looked at me, expecting a response. In retrospect, I thought of a multitude of comebacks ranging from the hilarious (see blog title) to the respectful and condescending ("I actually feel very good about where I am in my practice, but thank-you anyway.") Instead, I just looked her in the eye, expressed my thanks for her input, and tried to get out of the studio before I started crying.
I did manage to get in my car before I broke down. But I'm happy to say that I barely cried at all. Sure, I felt ashamed. Unwelcome. Ungainly. Bare. Guess what? I didn't feel bad about myself until this stranger felt bad for me. I had a few moments of: "How fat, clumsy and sad do I look to this woman that she was compelled to speak to me this way?" but in the end I mostly just ended up feeling bad for her. I am not perfect. Not as a person nor as a yoga practitioner, but generally I am happy with what I do, on and off the mat. What insecurities must this woman feel inside that she would publicly shame me, dressing it up as help? How angry was she at the limitations of her own body the she thought to herself: "This poor girl. She has a huge butt and she fell over. I must save her!"
I didn't let this ruin my day, my confidence or my road to better posture. But, if this had happened after yesterday's struggle-fest 4:30 flow class, it might have broken me. If she has chosen to shove her insecurities onto a person already holding an armful, they might never have come back. Eyes on your own mat. Don't assume everyone has the same journey as you. Nama-stay out of my goddamn business.
Comments
Post a Comment