Monday, September 13, 2010

Can Yoga Keep Me From Spontaneously Vomiting On Myself?

City life yoga
Originally uploaded by Maharet Raider
I need to go to my happy place, but I can’t go there until tomorrow. After this week I’ll have my husband home so I have no idea if I’ll want to keep my Yoga sessions. I hope I do because I’m doing really well. At least that’s what my Yoga girl says. I could really use it right now too.

Some days are so unbearable emotionally and mentally speaking that I don’t know how I get up in the mornings. Yoga seems to relieve this anxiety and tension that I tend to hang onto. I don’t want to let it go, but I also doubt I would keep it up on my own. Would be nice, but I just don’t have the discipline. Yes, it’s a defeatist attitude, but more realistic than anything. I know myself. I wouldn’t do it. Were I racking up the points it would be a whole different ball game. Oh yes, I could see myself stretching and reaching and attempting to place my ankles behind my ear were I earning points and Achievements. Bring on the ‘chievements and I’m there daily my friends. Until I hurt myself and never do it again. * cough* Dance Dance *cough *

But this post isn’t about my failing as a Dance Dance Dancer/Jumper/Flailer or about my potential failure as a Yoga master. No, it’s about my nerves. I need to get them under control. It’s Monday and I still have Tuesday and most of Wednesday to go before I begin my journey. Every time I think about it my stomach hurts. I wish I weren’t so nervous. I just don’t understand why I feel this way. I don’t think I felt quite this nervous when I went out to Family Pass.

Here’s what my Yoga instructor would say, “Michelle, what’s the worst thing that could happen to you? If you could take a deep breath and picture yourself in that scary place, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Well, I’d miss the Turning Blue Ceremony and I wouldn’t be able to pin his blue cord on.” If that were to happen I would shit myself. Just, SHIT, myself all the way to Sand Hill. I would leave the shit part out of course.

She would then have me picture myself missing that ceremony and bashing that awful thought away with a giant diamond replacing that image with me lovingly pinning the cord on my HoneyPot over and over and over and over and over and over again faster and faster and faster and FASTER AND FASTER AND FASTER until the feeling just dies away. Of course the whole exercise is a whole lot more elegant and there’s really no bashing involved. Just sort of a nice dissolve, like the kind you see in a home made picture slide show.

Of course talking about it does nothing to ease my nerves. In fact they’re back and making my head, neck and shoulders throb incessantly. I do wish I could calm down for a minute. I’m sure everything will be fine and I’ll look back on this horrible week and laugh. I’ll say, “God what was I so worried about?” and just slap myself on the knee and chuckle. Wow, what a memory that’ll be right?

Hopefully I can keep myself from vomiting long enough for that to actually happen though.

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