Stretched

I have always believed there's a 'perfect' exercise and a 'perfect' way of eating for each of us. The routine and nourishment that works well with our body type.

I tried running for a handful of years because many of my friends are runners. I wanted to be the girl who got up early and hit the pavement with the wind on my face and the pounding of my feet the only sound in my ears. But I hate running. I enjoy it for about 1/2 a mile, and then I want to lie down on the ground to catch my breath and look at the sunrise. I tried all kinds of aerobics, thinking with my dance background I'd find it enjoyable and easy, but I was the girl tripping over the step blocks and banging into the people beside me because I would be several counts behind. I never went to more than a handful of classes because I soon learned that I hate aerobics. I convinced my incredibly fit and strong friend Thera to train me in in Cross Fit. I wanted to quit every time within 2.8 seconds of starting the workout, throw the kettle bells at her face, never utter the word burpee, and while it's revered in the Cross Fit community to throw up after working out, I didn't find that to be a particularly fun part of the process because I hate Cross Fit. I tried Pilate's again, but quickly realized that.. nope....Nothing had changed since I'd taken it in college as part of my required curriculum. It wasn't that I didn't like my professor, I just hate Pilate's. I joined a gym and decided I preferred the steam room to the weight room, because I hated the gym. I wasn't sure I'd ever find exercise I truly loved.
And then I found yoga.
It was like coming home. I realized I'm not lazy in working out, I was just doing the wrong type. I amazed myself with how hard I would work, how much strength I have, and how I delighted in the effort it takes to steady my body and overactive mind.

I am a member of a local yoga studio. It's not far from my house, and I love the staff, the classes offered, and the community it pulls together. For more than a year I was in the studio faithfully. Twice a week I would go to my mat and strengthen my body while quieting my mind. It was a place where all stress, fear, worry, and schedules would dissipate and I was left with peace and stillness. However, last year brought many changes, many challenges with my children, and a much busier schedule. I wasn't able to get into class as often, and as I drove past the studio, sadness would catch in my throat. I could feel my body softening, and my mind hardening. My back was stiff and my irritation rose. I knew I needed to get back, and yet each time I made plans to go, something would get in the way. As we crossed into the new year, I was keenly aware that attention to my personal well being was and continues to be a crucial element in my ability to parent well. I was determined to carve out space for myself in order to offer a healthier mother to my children. I finally found my way back to my mat today. As I sat in the heated room and waited for the class to begin, I was able to breathe deeply and settle my mind and body. 75 minutes later I was soaked with sweat, muscles shaking, and my mind was completely stilled. The combination of physical movement, focus on breath, and attention to balance allows my mind to rest. There remains no energy left to analyze, worry, or plan for my day. I find time daily to pray, I do well with reading scripture as well as other books.....but there is no other place in my life that affords me the ability to settle every piece of me into calm contentment. I know I have to make this a priority again. I'm so very grateful to have found what works for me- the rub is in finding the time to execute it. Today was a powerful reminder that disciplining my time to create space for self-care will always be worth it.

Take Me or Leave Me

I've been going to counseling for a few months now.
In light of all the trauma we've been through over the last year and a half, I knew that counseling would be a necessity, and finally have a bit of time once a week to make it a priority.

I have a love/hate relationship with counseling. When done well, it's an amazing tool to excavate those places in your life that need digging out, restructuring, rejection or assimilation into our daily lives.  Having a good counselor who leads you through the terraced gardens of your heart and can help you begin to identify weeds from healthy plants is a gift.  There are also some counselors who talk about themselves too much or get fixated on a detail that might not be important to you, or who have their own filters and judgement from personal experience that prevents them from looking into your struggle objectively.

I have a good counselor.  We have many shared experiences, but she is objective, soft spoken, and firm. She helps me navigate what seeps up to the surface that needs to be skimmed off, revealing soft healthy flesh underneath. She encourages me to be vulnerable and makes space for that in every way. I often leave feeling depleted, but also renewed at the same time.  Similar to giving birth. New life coming forth out of pain.

One place I'm identifying as a struggle for me is my irrational need to please people.  I don't see myself as a people pleaser on the outside... but my actions have led me to the truth that I work hard to be all things to all people.  And.... I have taken this so far that I have avoided identifying myself or classifying myself so that I wouldn't make anyone feel left out or somehow alienate others.  When I was in college, I hid, behind dance clothes, and messy buns in my hair.  I loved fashion, but was afraid to own that love because I was afraid other girls would think I was being shallow.  I was jealous of the sorority girls in their slick, black pants and boots, but I was too afraid to be one of them, because I knew that girls who weren't in sororities sometimes felt left out... and I didn't want to be in the group that seemed exclusive.

When I got engaged, I kept it low key then too.  I was afraid if I was bubbly, and passionate, and giggly, that others might think that I was immature, flaky and overly emotional.... and that would mean our relationship wouldn't last (ironic, isn't it?) When I became a mother, I didn't want to be identified as just a mom.  I was scared to slip into the hidden recesses of being alone, or only spending time with other mothers, and so I began writing to give me an outlet outside of mothering.  As my children were born, and the boys started being given autism diagnoses, I didn't share that very often because I felt that since my boys were verbal, if I took on the identity of being a mother to boys with autism,  I would somehow invalidate the struggle of having non-verbal children; and I didn't want others to think I was using the label as an excuse for less than desirable behavior.

As I've moved more naturally into my role as a mother, and have shed some of that insecurity, I still see how I struggle to say no.  I have four kids on my own, and am having to find ways to provide, but I get scared to say no, or create boundaries, or put myself and my kids first because I am afraid I might offend someone.  Obviously, I can see logically that this is way off balance.  I DO have to take a new identity now- whether I want to or not.  My new identity as a single mother will make some uncomfortable- others who might not agree with my choices.  And yet?  I have to provide for these children. I have to learn self-care.  I have to learn how to identify and work towards meeting my own needs, and not feel badly about doing it.  I can't be all things to all people, because the people who get let down are those I care the most about.  I can't do all things well, and need to focus on doing a few things excellently.  I can't do it all.  I can't.  And now my job is to begin to explore what is so timid, broken, insecure in me that says I need the continual perceived approval of others in order to live happily. The reality is, trying to please everyone doesn't breed peace, it breeds resentment... because I know at a soul-knowing level, that I can't do it, and so I get angry at myself for pretending that I can.

It's time to make space for my identity. To claim who I know I am.  To not be afraid to wear the clothing that I want- even if I believe it might look too flashy to other women.  To not be afraid to claim that my boys do in fact have autism, even though you may never guess if you catch us on a good day.  To be a mom- even though sometimes that doesn't feel like a special enough title.  To say no to people I care about sometimes so that I can take care of me and the children more efficiently.  To write my heart even though many may disagree.  To claim my truth though it makes others squirm.  I believe that while not everyone needs to like me, agree with me, love me or support me, I will be able to love others better as I begin to learn to fully love me. I have to examine the judgement in my own heart that then believes I'm being judged in the same way. I have to learn to love all of me in order to more purely love all of you.  This might seem simple, but this is huge for me. I have spent a lot of time denying me in order to please others.  I am being pushed into a place of incredible authenticity and it's painful and freeing and strange.  I'm thankful I'm beginning to put words to this awful habit of mine, and am praying that I can start to shed some of the protective layers of people pleasing in order to uncover the authentic me.