Yoga...

Months ago I heard about a yoga class that takes place at one of my favorite stores (lululemon!) on Sunday mornings. I think a lot about it but have yet to go because of work or because I’ve chosen to spend the day with Charlie.
When I wake up, I make breakfast, and turn the computer on. I want to write today but when I have unlimited amounts of time to do so, I get a little squirrelly and avoid it. When I don’t have much time, well, I can compose all sorts of masterpieces. I’m not sure I’m entirely ready to let myself in and get to a place where I can write at the moment so for the time being, I email people, post an ad for models for class on Monday and lust after pretty things on etsy.com.
I feel myself getting antsy. I pull on a pair of jeans and my favorite hoodie and take a walk to Alliance for an Americano. I’ve been in Chicago a year now. Alliance was the spot I went to when I was feeling sad. Some of my favorite blogs were written here. I used to watch the snow fall letting my mind wander in and out of memories of Rob, Atlanta, Pete, and everything I wanted to get away from. Chicago has become the safest place in the world to me. A place where I can be myself and be free of any expectations, real or perceived. Everything has moved at the speed of light. I feel in a way, without Charlie now, I’m back where I started a year ago. I’m back to a place where I’m figuring things out again, and moving forward. This time though, it’s better. I feel better equipped. The feelings of heaviness I’m experiencing now are familiar and comforting in a way. I don’t question it or push it away too hard. I understand that for me, this is my normal reaction to loss. I already know the steps I’ll have to take, the things to do and not do to get through it.
The sky is gray and the air is quite chilly as I make my way down Division. I am reminded of the long walks I took even on the coldest days during the holidays last year. I just needed to get out and move, even if it meant having the wind tear the skin off my face. The cold sometimes felt better than whatever it was in my head.
While walking, my mind conducts all sorts of compositions and ideas of things to explore and write about. It’s coming at me so hard and fast that it’s exhilarating but frustrating because I know I’ll never be able to capture all of it. Even with keeping a notebook with me all the time I can’t possibly write everything that goes through my head. I sometimes have to just sit still, wait for all the thoughts to calm down before I can actually write. This frustrates me further because I’m afraid of forgetting. I try to remind myself that whatever ends up on the paper is supposed to be what’s there.
I order an Americano at Alliance and walk home. My head bounces back and forth between wanting to write and wanting to take this yoga class. I’m supposed to meet Christine later and go her parent’s house with her. I don’t have time to both write and do yoga.
Once I’m home I decide that writing will wait because I’ve put off this yoga class long enough. I want to see if I can mentally get to a calmer place and open some things up. I also feel my body deserves to be stretched and challenged differently than what I’m used to. I quickly get ready and run up to the store.
Once inside, I spread my mat out, take off my shoes and sit quietly. I am unaware of myself. Any residual self consciousness I’ve felt lately has left me completely. I feel I deserve to be taking up space here. I watch the people around me, stretching, sitting, breathing. My surveying is interrupted when the instructor comes up to me, introducing herself and asking if there’s any injuries I’m working on today. I smile and shake my head thinking there is nothing physical that I’m working on anyway.
The class begins with everyone sitting and facing forward. The instructor quietly explains that yoga is the practice of connecting the mind, and body, and is to help us become closer to our divine spirit through meditating and breathing. She reminds us that we’re striving for a connection, not perfection.
I don’t blink for what seems like forever, starring straight ahead, listing to this woman’s soft voice. When she says connection I feel tears spring to my eyes. That’s it… what I was missing with Charlie. I feel emotionally starved. Physically he was always there. I so wanted to connect with him emotionally, to dig deep into him, know him, share myself with him. Instead while trying to figure it out, I kept suppressing everything, kept waiting for a perfect time to bring whatever it was I wanted up. There is no perfect time, only what I choose to do and not do.
“You are not your body, or your thoughts.” the instructor goes on. “What I want you to do right now is to close your eyes and focus on something you want to get out of this class today. What are you needing in your life right now? Take a few deep breaths and focus on that for a few minutes.”
I inhale, exhale and think what is it do I want? Ah, to be vulnerable. I want to open up and feel whatever it is I need to feel. It’s too much work to keep it all in, but I’m not completely sure how to get to a place where I can accept any feelings of openness. If I open up, the hurt will pour in and I don’t know if I can take that rush just yet.
We’re instructed to lay on our backs and continue breathing. I feel my body sink into the ground. I let myself talk to Rob a little bit. I apologize for not talking to him much lately. I apologize for refusing to pay attention to obvious things. I ask for his help, for comfort. I tell him I want his hand to hold mine, I want his love, I remind him that I miss him terribly.
In admitting this I can see that I have so much grief left swimming around inside me. I haven’t allowed myself to properly acknowledge it. It’s like I feel I should be done already. In reality though, I’m not. It’s still there and it’s still needing attention. I no longer have Charlie to focus on and I’m somehow feeling something deeper than I ever thought possible. It’s a need to explore these feelings of loss, to connect once again with Rob as I now know him. As Nathan reminded me shortly after Rob’s funeral, “this is your new normal.” I didn’t really want to see that.
The instructor continues to have us gently move into pose after pose. I feel my body sink further into each one, not wanting the class to end. It feels so good to move, to breath and be calm, if only for an hour.
As the class comes to an end, we’re all laying on our backs again. The instructor gingerly walks around between our scattered mats and still bodies. I feel her stop behind my head. Her cool, soft hands, press into my shoulders, before reaching under my neck, picking up my head and gently pulling it, stretching my neck before placing it back down on the mat and walking away. This simple gesture brings tears to my eyes. I desperately want to be touched, want to feel connected and loved.
I breathe in an out, I let my mind briefly explore a memory I have of Charlie and me slow dancing in his living room. Except my face isn't inches from his as it should be. I'm sitting on his couch, watching him dance with a shell of a human that looks like me, sounds like me, but the actual person that is me? She's observing this memory, completely removed from the situation. This is how I've felt the whole time. Detached, watching my life wondering when I was going to step out of this fog.
The class ends. I walk home feeling refreshed and pleased with myself for finally doing something new.
Later, after a shower, my phone beeps with a text from Christine. “I’m here!” I run downstairs and hop in her car.
“Hiiiii!!!!” I squeal, hugging her. I don’t remember the last time I saw her. It’s been over a month for sure.
“Ok! Talk!” she instructs while putting the car in drive and pressing the gas.
I begin starting with my teachback. I talk some about Rob and she stops me.
“You do realize that it really hasn’t been that long since he died and it’s still ok for you to be sad.”
“I don’t like admitting that but I know you’re right.” I reply.
I talk and talk and talk until we’ve reached the grocery store where she’s needing to pick up some things for her parents. I am exhausted once I stop.
“Melissa, do you feel like your self esteem was broken?” she asked while picking up and apple and inspecting it.
I slowly, wordlessly nod, feeling completely ashamed of myself.
“I thought so.” she placed the apple in a plastic bag containing three other apples. “I was getting worried about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You stopped being you.” she turned to look at me. “You got really self conscious and indecisive and you weren’t your typical bubbly self.”
I look down and nod again. “I know. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t like who I was but couldn’t seem to climb out. I know Charlie’s right and all of this is for the better for sure, but it still hurts.”
“And it will but you’ll be ok.”
“I know.” I smile.