Yoga. I’m driving to yoga. I have to keep reminding myself where I’m going. I’m not better, maybe I’m worse. I don’t know. Bea wanted me to go to yoga today, she thought it would help. I’m going, but I’m feeling so exposed, driving there, this was a bad idea.
I arrive “late” by my standards, so I’m stressed, and rushed. I’m also dissociated, disconnected from my body, and not ready to be here at all.
Kris meets me as I walk in, right on time. I feel like crying.
“Hello, how are you?” She asks me.
I follow her back to the studio, leaving my shoes outside the door. “I’m fine, I’m okay.” I’m lying, and she knows it, but she says nothing.
I set my things down, and we sit on our mats. “Is there anything going on that you would like to share?” She asks me.
I shake me head no. And then, I tell her, “I’m not really okay.”
“Yes, I can see that. Is there anything that is available for you to share?” She drinks her tea, sits and stretches.
I’m frustrated. I don’t know what to say. How do I explain any of this? “I should have asked Bea to call you.”
Understanding that this is big crosses her face. “Ohhhh. Okay.” We sit for a minute as she digests this, maybe comes up with a new plan for the day. “I think we will start today with standing, if that is available for you. Would that be okay?”
I nod, and we start by rocking on our feet, standing. She talks about feeling grounded in our feet. I’m feeling a little more present, a little calmer.
We move through some poses, and I’m okay. Stiff, awkward, not feeling as present as I have been, not feeling my body as I have been, but I’m here and I’m moving.
Then….Kris moves from one pose to what is usually known as child’s pose. I should feel more comfortable like that. It’s balled up, curled up, on the floor, more hiding that anything we have done. But I freeze. I don’t know what else happens, what Kris sees on my face, or in my body, but she knows instantly that this isn’t happening.
“Okay, let’s move back, sit up this way. Can you do that? And pay attention to our breathing,” she switches gears quickly, but it’s too late, I’m frozen, I sit back, but it’s zombie like, not really moving, more falling.
I think she is surprised that something so benign triggered me. I think she is annoyed I bothered to show up today. I think she must hate me, want me out of her yoga room. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” My tiny voice is barely able to be heard over the heater in the room.
“There’s no sorry. You don’t need to be sorry.” Kris is sitting on her mat, waiting, looking serene. But I wasting her time. I suck. She has to be annoyed. “Do you want to continue, or pause and pick this up at another session? We can end here, you are in control, it’s your choice. You are the boss, you decide if when we stop or continue, or if you need a break. You are in control right now.”
“I think I need a minute,” I say.
I want my tea. It’s not close enough to me, and I’m still frozen, so getting it is out of the question.
“I want to stay,” I say. I can’t look at her, I’m sure she is annoyed, thinks I’m insane.
“Okay, good.” Kris says, and we start again, she omits the child’s pose this time around.
I finish out the session, but it’s awkward, hard. I spend the rest of the time feeling like I need to hide, plus feeling increasingly sure that Kris thinks I’m crazy.
After, we wish each other Happy Thanksgiving, and I leave, just as dissociated as I was when I arrived, and more than a little sure I have to quit yoga. Bea is going to be so pissed at me.