Figuring out 50: Work in Progress

Yes, 50 was a pretty good year. My heart is full as I reflect on the wonderful year I have nearly completed. I’d like to name a list of fun adventures I experienced, but the truth is the whole year was one big adventure. This past year, I walked boldly down the path of choosing myself fully and unapologetically for the first time in my life. It’s almost as if the emotional weight of others and choices made for others physically weighed me down to the point where I was resigned to believe the mediocrity and melancholy were my only constant companions. What a sad existence of blah blah blah.

Recently I received some feedback from someone I once took care of for too many years. When you are a caretaker, you come to realize that no matter what good you do in a person’s life, once you decide to change your situation, you will be demonized, criticized and blamed. Ultimately the feedback I received was probably cathartic for the individual, definitely passive aggressive, but mostly oppressive. It was yet another person telling me to silence myself, to make myself smaller because my truth and the expression of my truth was uncomfortable to read. If what I write is uncomfortable for readers, I encourage them to embrace the freedom of not reading what I write. I write for me. If people enjoy reading it, that’s wonderful. If not, that’s just fine.

I credit yoga as a major catalyst for change and growth. The movement that yoga encourages enabled me to access a freedom that does not exist outside of asanas and yogic expression. When I’m bent over in wide stance forward fold, inhaling and exhaling, barefoot on the mat in the warm yoga studio, I am free. Add some stacked blocks upon which my head can rest, and I’m in heaven. The seemingly simple act of breathing in and out, focused solely on the rise and fall of my breath, takes me to peace that has not existed in my world for some years.

I have made many choices based on others, based on what I perceived would be acceptable, based on what other people needed or wanted or decided. I’m done with that. For 15 years, I was spending a small fortune to color my hair every other month to cover the grey. And let me tell you, grey hair is strong and determined, and my grey would appear within a week of coloring. It was a maddeningly expensive cycle. Eight months ago, I decided it was time to stop because I was coloring the grey so that I didn’t look too old for potential suitors. It took some time for me to realize that was the reason, but when I did, it was so freeing. I have beautiful grey hair, and it’s healthy. Hopefully, by this time next year, I’ll be fully grey and gorgeous.

I don’t know what the future holds, what 51 holds for me. I will continue to reflect on how people and experiences in my life have contributed to the work in progress that I am. Self analysis is an important part of growth and change, and I seek to evolve into the person that I was created to be. I cannot imagine that my God chose misery and regret for me. I am certain that my life was meant for joy and freedom and peace and love for me.

 

Help Me Yoga

I’ve been trying to go to yoga classes more frequently. I have no excuse, given the proximity of the classes to my home, and the fact that I am paying a healthy fee to attend as many classes as I want. They need to offer more beginner or 101 or “big girl” classes, but I take the classes I can, and make the modifications I need.

This place, this yoga studio, is a Godsend for me. When I moved last month, I made a decision to change and improve my life in big and small ways, and yoga has had the greatest effect. My soul needs what yoga is sharing with me.

Being a big girl, I am acutely aware of my limitations each and every day. There are movements that challenge me in ways I never expected. There are decisions I have to make before I even get out of my adjustable bed. There is seating I don’t dare attempt to slip into, there are places I simply will not venture, all because of my size. Now, I know that my size is a direct result of my choices, so I am not asking anyone to pity me. I’m just sharing the realities of my physical situation. Not all areas are safe spaces for me, and I am blessed that yoga is a safe space for me, as I am.

In my yoga classes, there is no judgement. One of the instructors always reminds us that there are no trophies at the end of each class. I compete with no one. I come into the class, speak to the people in the space, and focus on my breathing, my balance, and my body. The class, the space, is the only place where I can focus just on me — Reese — and largely let the cares of my world go. I let the weight of the world stay outside of the studio, far from my shoulders, and I take care of me.

In my real world, I carrying the needs, assignments, expectations of others squarely on my shoulders. On my job, in particular, I have to handle the work of my group and others, and there is very little help. I do not have the luxury, have never had the luxury at this job of asking for and getting help. Outside of the office, I am not the one to ask for help. I am, however, the one that people do not hesitate to ask for help. I cannot count how many rooms I’ve helped paint, how many parties I have helped to set up, and or clean up, expenses I’ve helped pay, or children I have babysat. There are times I envy people who can ask for and accept assistance.

In the family in which I grew up, we helped each other as well as others. We assisted at soup kitchens, served in church, helped with weddings, classes, funerals, and showers — bridal and baby — and parties. When I got married, I learned quickly that I was in a much different environment, and the family that I joined was not equipped to help or assist me in any way. They were solely takers only willing to offer help to other takers. My ability to ask for help was destroyed by the reality that it was simply not there for me.

Yoga is teaching me to accept help. The first few classes, they offered students little discs that we could use to let the instructors know that we were willing to accept help with poses. It’s funny, but I did not hesitate to take the disc in the class because I was more than willing to accept help in the class. Just thinking about it now, I was eager, and when the instructors offered suggestions or re-positioned my poses, I was so grateful. In fact, in today’s class, I could not stop smiling because I realized that while I struggle to ask for help anywhere else in my life, Kimber — the instructor today — reminded me how natural it is to accept help willingly, freely, without shame or embarrassment.

I’m 50 years old, and I am learning how to accept help. It makes me smile because it’s such a simple concept for so many others, but for me, it’s the beginning.

 

Figuring out 50: Yoga 101

In an attempt to get my health in order, I decided to resume yoga… after a long, long, long absence. I’m pretty sure it’s been over 12 years since the light in me connected with the light in anyone. I know I wasn’t married, and I was taking time to focus on mindfulness. I should have stuck with it, but there’s no time like the present to restart something I know was good for me.

There a a few things that I remember about yoga. First, the tooting. When I decided 14 or 15 years ago to try yoga, a friend (at the time) to me that when you do yoga “right”, your body frees itself, and the gas flows or blows. As a germaphobe and a person with a highly sensitive nose, the last thing I want to experience with strangers is flatulence. Still, I wanted to be so good at yoga, that I would toot with comfort, and hear toots without chuckling. Then, and now, only one of those is happening.

The other thing I remember about yoga is that it allows me to focus on what my body is doing. When I get into a pose, I find a focal point in the room, and I hold it in my sights until my entire body focuses on that focal point. I challenge myself, my stillness, my strength, my calmness until it’s time to come out of the pose. I appreciate having the chance and the ability to reduce all things, however temporarily, to a single stationary space. With all the chaos and movement and uncertainty in my world these days, yoga is a welcomed addition to my life, and the choice to engage in this mindful activity outside of my home is surprisingly enjoyable.

I have finished 2 yoga classes. Initially I planned to take 2 classes a week, but after learning how far I am from feeling comfortable in a 101 class, I’ve decided on 1 class a week, with the option for more. I try not to compare myself to the other people in the class. What I can say is that I was able to do more in my second class than I was able to do in my first class. That’s progress, and that feels good.