. . .
If I was a stranger looking at this blog, I would assume that I’m one of those sporty girls who workout regularly who I actually spend most of my life being jealous of and feeling less than when I make the fatal mistake of comparing other people’s outsides to my insides.
Exercise has always been one of my greatest challenges. The only thing I liked to do was ski until I got sober, then I started to enjoy hiking and yoga and even going to the gym, but I rarely felt the energy that most people talk about afterwards and would usually have to go right to bed after a good workout.
That’s probably one of the reasons I fell in love with yoga – it made a lot of sense to do at night and then go right to bed.
I practiced for 5 years. I learned the basics, made sure my form was correct and slowly built on that strong foundation – a lot like my recovery from alcoholism and drug addiction.
My fatigue is so heavy these days. I go to yoga every Sunday night whether I feel horrible or not because I love it so much. It’s also a 12-step meeting and we focus on sobriety and spirituality. It’s one of the most special things I’ve ever experienced and I feel so blessed that I get to go every week.
But every week I tell myself over and over that I’ll go to yoga during the week – everyday. I have that alcoholic black and white thinking, can you tell? I even bought a Groupon to a yoga studio right next to my house, but I still can’t get myself to go.
I feel pretty horrible about myself in regards to exercise. It’s probably one of my lowest self-esteem shortcomings. I’m very lucky that my genetics keep me relatively thin. I mean, I eat right, too, so at least I’m doing that right.
. . .
The class was packed and the teacher asked me to demonstrate. I got into down dog and then she talked about all of the benefits forever. Okay, it was probably only 3 – 5 minutes, but my only-exercise-one-day-a-week arms and abs were dying.
But the class was watching so I wasn’t about to drop to the ground. Just like dialing myself into the program – sometimes just knowing that others were watching and I was accountable to them kept me sober – even when I really, really wanted a cocktail and a line or 30.
Then I went into plank, which is the top of a push up and then into chaturanga – the bottom of a push up. The rest isn’t as difficult, but my God I was amazed at what my poor body could do under pressure.
Of course, I was exhausted by the time we moved to resting pose and I didn’t even come close to going to yoga today. And I have to work Tuesday and Wednesday and I don’t have an excuse for Thursday yet, but I’m sure I’ll find a reason I most definitely can’t make it by tomorrow.
. . .
In meditation last night, I lost my body. It went away completely. All that was left was my heart and a voice telling me to rest.
Take care of yourself. You’ll have energy soon enough. Build your strength from the inside first. Love yourself. Honor yourself. Wrap yourself in cotton. REST.
I should probably listen to my inner voice, but my grip is so firm on the baseball bat, I’m finding it hard to let go. It’s like a part of myself likes it – the torture, the self-hatred, the feeling of less than.
. . .
But you are watching, dear readers. You are. And you keep me accountable – so the only thing left to do is what feels impossible, but is possible with a little honesty, willingness and open-mindedness.
Baseball bats are meant for playing after all, aren’t they?