Last night I went to a holiday party at the yoga studio where I teach, Lyons Den Power Yoga. [picture below] Well, I currently do not teach there, because the heat and intensity of the practice isn’t good for me or my thyroid at this time.
Looking back on this year, I remember (many) moments when I experienced Hyper symptoms while teaching, practicing and assisting, that I ignored. I noticed I was pulling back from the studio. Other than teaching, I wasn’t showing up much because I would feel dizzy, a racing heart. My legs would tremor, I would get nauseous. Both shoulders would hurt, my chest would tighten, my feet would cramp. I’ve been practicing for four years and working out since I’m 20 years old – this has never, not even as a beginner or horribly out of shape, happened to me. Something was wrong and I attributed it to being weak, not practicing enough, gaining weight. It was me. I blamed myself.
Maybe this isn’t for me anymore.
Maybe I have anxiety that I’m not addressing.
Maybe I am depressed. But why?
Maybe I have to practice more.
Maybe I should start “working out” again? I need to lift weights.
This is definitely my fault.
I didn’t consider the root was a physical issue. Why would I? I have (so very thankfully) never had much more severe than the stomach flu. The way I was feeling wasn’t just physical, it was emotional. I was withdrawing from a place I consider a home; a community that is full of good people. I was pulling back and couldn’t stop myself. I just didn’t want to be around so many people all the time (it’s a lively bunch); it felt like too much. That is also not like me. I didn’t recognize myself. It didn’t all happen at once; it was a gradual pull back.
Once I discovered the issue was Hyper, the relief I felt was overwhelming. There is a name and a reason and it’s not me and nor is it anything I did. For someone who defaults to, “What am I not doing? Where can I do more or change how I do this?”, seeing that it wasn’t on me gave me permission to take how I felt more seriously rather than write it off as unimportant. I tend to do that: just keep moving. So what if I’m not feeling up to it? Do it anyway because no one cares. Just work harder. Right now though, it just might be about me. As uncomfortable as I feel saying that, it just is.
I was joking with my friends last night about how my mornings are no longer about waking up and mainlining coffee, racing out the door with three yoga outfits in my bag + heels, makeup and work clothes. I taught five (sometimes seven) times a week, work a full time job and have freelanced as well. I was always running somewhere. My mornings are now comprised of making tea (tea, not coffee), reading, journaling, attempting to meditate (5-10 min a few times a week), cooking, cleaning up my apartment and mostly just puttering and taking my time. It’s nice to move slow. It won’t be forever (because, who am I kidding???), but for now, this is what’s happening and what’s necessary.
Many times, I find myself still hustling around my apartment for no good reason. Okay, so I’m not a reformed stress case. It’s in my bones to hustle, and I like that about myself. I also like excitement and that’s not going anywhere. I’m not preaching about smelling the roses. I don’t even like roses. What I am saying is that I am giving myself some space, some permission to take more time and time for not much at all. Some days it feels nice, others, “What is this? I’m so bored.” But it’s just what’s happening.
K, ‘scuse me, my tea is ready.