I’m not a relaxed person.
If you know me in real life, you probably just laughed out loud and consider that sentence to be the understatement of the year. I get worked up pretty easily and have a tendency to catastrophize situations.
It’s part of my charm. And while running helps me work out a lot of my anxiety and pent up energy, I sometimes need something with a little less impact to soothe my nerves. Like this:
Don’t worry, I’m not going to get too new-agey on you and start chanting in Sanskrit or telling you to realign your chakras. I promise. I just realized it’s been awhile since I’ve talked about anything besides what I’ve been cooking and consuming. And though I’m trying to work myself back into a decent running regimine, the truth is my running life has been pretty unspectacular as of late.
Partly due to the fact that I’m not sleeping. Again. Which is mostly because of this cute little ball of anxiety I’ve been carrying around in my gut. It’s a neat little compilation of stress, anger and self-doubt that I’ve been trying to reason with politely during the day. It prefers, however, that we spend our time together wrestling in the wee hours of the morning…These things happen.
Life has been a bit stressful in these parts as of late (I know, I know, I know…What else is new?) and I feel a bit like I’m losing my cool. Complete Meltdown Molly isn’t all that fun to be around. She’s a bit of a drag. I get that. And I truly am sorry to all those who have deal with my drama – directly or indirectly. I’m doing my best to make sense of everything, examine my options and make the best possible decisions I can.
But I suck at decisions. And though a lot of people say that things happen for a reason, and we should not have regrets and instead look at those instances in life as opportunities to learn and grow – I sometimes have a hard time with both of those statements. Because there are things that have happened to me that I still don’t understand. And I do have regrets.
But back to yoga. My love affair with yoga began around five years ago. And much like the ups and downs I’ve had with running, my devotion to any sort of practice has had many peaks and valleys. Mostly valleys lately. But my 3am anxiety-induced wake up calls have led me back to my mat. And my trusty, albeit ancient, Ashtanga yoga book.
Sometimes I just need to be told what to do. So after doing a half hour of random asanas and a nice round of sun salutations (or are they considered moon salutations at that hour?) I settled myself into a nice long Savasana – otherwise known as corpse pose.
Now, don’t misunderstand – I see the irony. I cannot relax while lying in a similiar pose in my own damn bed, but one room over – on a yoga mat I stole from my sister – I am finally, absolutely, totally relaxed and at peace. This has, and I suspect will always be, one of yoga’s biggest draws for me.
Sure, the craziness of my life will still exist when I’m finished with my practice. And, no – I do not expect the solutions to all of my problems to be magically bestowed upon me during the hour I spend bending, stretching and breathing. But, in the end, my load feels a little lighter and I don’t feel so lost in the chaos.
I leave my mat accepting the fact that perhaps I’m a little off-track, but I don’t have to always have all of the answers. And I’m reminded that sometimes all I need to do to find my way back to where I belong, is sit still and breathe.