Yoga and Tears

Last week was tough. Saturday morning my husband and I went to yoga class together. I was struggling with sadness, low self-esteem, worthlessness. All the classic signs that summer is upon me.

He introduced me to the teacher when we got there, and I told her I have PTSD so if she was planning on touching me during savasana to please whisper to me beforehand. She agreed.

I organized myself in the back of the room. The class was quite full, but everyone was chatty and pleasant. Looking around the room I could tell that all levels of skill were present. Val started the class and I could tell right away I was going to like her style. And she played good music.

I got absorbed in the poses. Successful in most of them. My body remembering asanas I hadn't done in a long time. Slowly we moved into savasana -- final relaxation. I always joke and say that this is the reason I do yoga. That 5 minutes of total relaxation is bliss.

This time I knew she was coming around to offer soothing touching. I crave it, but I fear it as well. I heard her step next to me as she bent over to soothe my neighbor. Shortly after that she whispered in my ear, "I'm here", and moved to my feet. She rubbed and massaged them, and I felt the tears. I fought hard to suppress them. I don't know why. A knee-jerk reaction, I suppose. How do I explain tears from a foot massage?

She moved on to the next person, and I continued to fight the tears and question them. Why am I crying? Is this just attention seeking? What is wrong with me?

After a few final stretches, class ended and I, keeping my head down to hide the tears, packed up my gear. My husband came to check on me. I apologized. He asked why I was apologizing. Our usual dance. He left to gather his gear.

A couple of others in the class checked on me. I tried to assure them I would be fine. They offered comments and support -- but I didn't want to to explain the specifics to these kind strangers.

Val came and hugged me. She invited me back to class. 

I have a love/hate relationship with yoga. I love the way my body feels during and after class. I love that I connect with my body -- recognizing skill and power and strength. But I never know when all that peace, quiet, and relaxation will open the door to the feelings that stay just below the surface in my brain. I know it's good to release the salty tears, just as it's good to release the salty sweat -- but it seems less acceptable.

But I find myself craving that release again this morning. And I am reminded of a quote --

“The cure for anything is salt water….sweat, tears or the sea.”

~ Isak Dinesen, pseudonym of Baroness Karen von Blixen-Finecke

{this moment}

A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Nothing But the Whole Wide World

"God wants us busy, never giving up

He wants nothing but the whole wide world for us

Nothing but the whole wide world for us

Nothing, nothing

Well there's nothing but the whole wide world for us

Nothing, nothing

Well there's nothing but the whole wide, whole wide world for us"

I hear those words and I am reminded that no matter how hard my struggle seems, God is always there for me. He wants me to succeed according to His idea of success. 

So on the days when things are difficult -- the depression seizes me, when I'm tired and unfocused, when I feel completely worthless -- He wants nothing but the whole wide world for me. And it doesn't mean I have to go out and take it by storm. No, all He asks of me is that I receive what He offers.

It doesn't solve everything. It doesn't pull me out my pre-summer funk. But it does provide comfort and hope. Things can and will be better.

He wants me to have the world, as long as I recognize that He is the world.

listen here 

(lyrics from "Nothing But the Whole Wide World"/Ghost on the Canvas by Glen Campbell)

linking up with Five Minute Friday

Understanding and Perceptions

I've been misunderstood my whole life. Or at least it feels that way. 

Let's be clear, I'm not complaining about how other people see or perceive me, but rather my own perceptions about me.

I assume when I was very young -- before the abuse -- I had a relatively good understanding of who I was. At least as much as any 3-4 year old can. But when the bad things started happening, it played havoc with my understanding and perception. Good people weren't always good. People lied. Nice people would hurt me for no apparent reason. I seemed to be misunderstanding a lot of things. 

I kept misunderstanding what was happening to me and especially why it was happening, so it changed my whole perspective on how I was supposed to function in life. Instead of sharing what I wanted and needed, I came to the conclusion that the most important thing was to figure out what everyone else wanted from me. If I could do that, clearly they would quit hurting me. Not just quit hurting me, but love me, as I was and for who I was.

The reality of it all was that I wasn't the one being misunderstood. I was the one misunderstanding. I was taking on responsibility for other people's actions -- actions that no one could really understand -- and by doing that I was trying to control what other people did.

It's taken years and years to learn that the only person I can control is me. I can only control how I react to another person's words or actions. It seems so simple when it's typed on the page, but it's been a tough lesson to learn and hold on to.

I've learned to be specific, especially when I feel misunderstood, but I've also learned that just because I'm misunderstood, it may not always be my fault. And that's when it's time to walk away.

linking up with Writer's Workshop and Just Write

Yaya's New Do

linking up with Wordless Wednesday

Catching My Breath

It snuck up on me this time. I've been busy and distracted with travel and life. Concentrating on other things, I was caught off guard by Memorial Day and the unfortunate effect it has on me.

I wrote about it the first time years ago. About how the changing of seasons from spring to summer triggers all kinds of scary stuff. 

Yesterday I sat in my therapist's office and told her I was scared and ashamed. I was afraid I was losing ground -- going backwards. I find myself distrustful of everyone, even myself. I can't concentrate, and I just want to sleep. I'm beating up on myself for not being more organized and fearing loss of control. I feel scattered and frantic.

Memorial Day came early this year. For some reason I thought I had another week. I hadn't consciously thought about the triggers involved with summer, and I think that made it much worse. Or maybe it's not worse. Maybe I'd just forgotten what it was like to walk around afraid all the time. 

The vast majority of the abuse occurred in the summer months. Time that is supposed to be reserved for joy, fun activities, and family. But every year, unbidden, my body reminds me of the abuse. Some internal clock turns on to prepare for the onslaught. The abuse itself ended a long time ago, but the effects are still triggered by the change in temperature and the summer attitude that takes over everyone around me.

I want to look forward to summer, and I do. But there is always this period of transition where I have to adjust. To remind myself that the abuse is over, and that it is normal to have a bit of struggle right now. 

I went to the allergist this morning because I've been having trouble breathing. She adjusted my asthma meds and was very sympathetic. I brought up the psychological aspect of triggers this time of year. She acknowledged that it may play a role in the difficulties. She also praised me for recognizing it and being willing to share it as a possibility, because it could effect how we treat this flare up. 

I'm home now with a new prescription, but I stopped on the way and treated myself to a diet Dr. Pepper and the time to make a list. A list similar to the ones I was making last month for Lent, reminding myself of the positive impact that attitude adjustment had on me.

I'm breathing easier, literally and figuratively, this morning. Facing down memories, triggers, flashbacks, and pollen with intentionality.

linking up with Just Write

The Simple Woman's Daybook

FOR TODAY . . . May 27, 2014

Outside my window . . . already 75* and overcast. I think it's going to be a muggy day.

I am thinking . . . that sleeping through the night changes my perspective considerably.

I am thankful . . . for safe travels for all my peeps yesterday.

In the kitchen . . . banana bread over the weekend. Grilled burgers tonight.

I am wearing . . . my homemade cotton gown.

I am creating . . . not much. Things have so hectic I can't seem to get organized. Hope springs eternal!

I am going . . . to an appointment and then have the house to myself for the rest of the day :)

I am wondering . . . what may triggering some additional stress I've been feeling lately.

I am reading . . .  The Silent Twins by Marjorie Wallace.

I am looking forward to . . . having some quiet planning time today with everyone out of the house.

I am hearing . . . lots of quiet this morning. Alan and Claire are out of town, and Sam's gone to take care of a neighbors dogs. Just me and my dogs hanging out this morning.

Around the house . . . not feeling much motivation to clean. Organizing is okay, but that whole cleaning thing is just not appealing right now.

I am praying . . . for a friend looking for a job. Another friend who has just begun chemo for pancreatic cancer. For my family and me to have a good summer break.

One of my favorite things . . . is creating things of beauty, and yet I have so much difficulty organizing my time to allow that to happen.

A few plans for the rest of the week . . . a calmer week than last week. I am hoping that will make it possible to get back on track.

Here is a picture for thought I am sharing . . . 

a happy basket of color

for more visit The Simple Woman's Daybook