Today, I caught sight of myself in one of the many mirrors at work. I looked foreign. A doughy, round donut sat under my shirt, clinging to the fabric. My eyes were tired, my skin ghostly pale even by my standards.
I finished 56 consecutive days of yoga about a week ago. The goal had been 100. Throughout the challenge, I pushed through a few physical boundaries. I can now without fail, fall over my legs in a standing forward fold, with my hips leading the way. My balance has improved. Even my Vira I is friendly now. The emotional breakthroughs were harder to measure, and far harder to push through. So I chose to feel it out, and whenever I could, not think about it. Believe that I somehow was healing without having to examine. I just had to keep practicing. Apparently, I also had to keep eating, playing games on my phone, watching sitcoms, binging on sweets. I had to keep reacting to things without evaluating why.
So two moments later and I'm confronted with the hatchling of what could become if I leave my demons unobserved. I need to check myself, I need to journal, I need to watch what I eat and what I think. In kindness not in judgement. But denial is not the road to go on, neither is the procrastination.
Stay tuned for my excavation of winter, and my jelly roll.
x0x.
