Bring It Back To The Breath

Take a little Chaos. Add two parts Greener Grass. And some Goldilocks. Welcome to my summer. Lovely. I'm looking into filing for a do-over.

My initial strategy to cope with change and loss in my life was Deny & Distract for as long as possible. Don't get enough sleep. Don't exercise enough, and eat too much. Then cry in public at inappropriate moments. (They still don't know what to do with me, but at this point I can barely work up the energy to care.)

My body has been nearly as much of a mess as my emotional state. At the ripe old age of 32, I don't seem to recover from late nights, overindulgence, injury, etc. quite like I used to. The handstand incident injury and my knee issues linger. Apparently, you are supposed to actually do your physical therapy for things to get better, or something. Also as strangely, eating more and exercising less doesn't so much help you fit into your favorite jeans. For me, momentum is everything when it comes to taking care of myself. When the emotional slump starts and exercise goes out the window, it feels insurmountable to get back on track. Even the threat of public humiliation didn't get me going. I did one mini-triathlon at the beginning of the summer, but I let it slide so much that I didn't even try to do the Danskin, therefore wasting a ton of work over the winter and spring.

When my Mom suggested trying yoga again and offered it as a birthday present, I was intrigued. And of course, slightly desperate.

My first class in years started a little rough, but I knew it was good. I was astounded by how sweet it tasted to take a purposeful deep breath. I think I kind of forgot about breathing for a while there. Though my brain won't hold still for more than two seconds - except to focus on counting Lululemon labels around the room and wonder if I would be better at yoga if I was wearing $60 tank top ('cause I know the point of yoga is soooo all about materialism). A moment of mixed success came when the teacher led us through a breathing exercise where you press one nostril closed at a time - which did stop the rest of my brain for a while as I became consumed with how frustrating the exercise was. Baby steps, I guess.

It's been about a month of yoga, and my muscles now beg for it if I skip a day. Which makes me slightly alarmed about how stiff and disconnected I must usually be. I am also attracted to yoga's potential for spiritual connection as well, since it didn't seem fair to sit in church and complain about them talking about Jesus too much. But I need sources of wisdom. And to feel some grace.

I'm hoping breathing can help.

Blast From the Past

One of the fun things about Facebook is people from my former lives suddenly falling back in my lap. This has actually been a healing experience for me in many ways. It is really nice to be in constant relaxed contact with people I loved in the past but cut myself off from while I was busy battling my demons.

Most recently, people from the way-back past of elementary school have shown up. People who knew the totally different (and yet so much the same) person I was way before Al Gore even invented the internet are on my computer every day. Among these people is my (still single and still charming) boyfriend from 7th grade. Please note: I use the term "boyfriend" extremely loosely here. As he reminded me - I apparently had a friend call him and say, "She wants to go out with you, but you can't call her." So, as you can probably guess, it didn't go a whole lot further than that. HA! Sorry, my parents seriously frowned on even talking to boys on the phone, and I wasn't willing to risk their disapproval. Even though I really liked him. But I suspect it was also convenient because I was also deathly afraid of him. Ah, pre-adolescent romance.

So I was planning to go to dinner with my 7th grade boyfriend, which was already kind of tripping me out, when low and behold, my 7th grade teacher (who I hadn't seen since the last day of 7th grade) walked in the door of a volleyball game I was coaching at. It turned out that he had an 8th grade daughter on the opposing team. But in the meantime, I was hit by the Twilight Zone reality of being in the presence of my 7th grade teacher... while back at a CYO volleyball game... texting "OMG!" to my 7th grade boyfriend... having just woken up at home in the same house where I lived all this the first time around...

When I said moving back into that house might a healing, full circle kind of experience, how was I to know that could be just the beginning?!

The universe is definitely trying to tell me something. Exactly what I'm not sure. Something still unresolved about my past? Something about karma or fate? Just playing a funny joke?! Or perhaps coming back home after a long hard journey...

Nina Luna Goes to Church

One Sunday morning after I heard I was losing my cute little house and felt like I needed a safe place to go, I surprised myself and joined my mom at her church. And then I went back - several times now.

It's a tiny "Community" church (actually Baptist, but not really advertising it). Very casual and intimate. Enthusiastic young minister. Lots of music. Relatively diverse population, though I stick out as the sole representative of my particular demographic - without kids or gray hair. This whole impulse has made me think of rekindling my long abandoned "church shopping" to Unity/Unitarian type churches thinking they would fit me better, but this one has stuck so far.

I'm still not convinced by the whole Jesus thing. Sitting there, I wrestle with the uncomfortable memories of my own blind enthusiasm about Christianity growing up and with feeling limited by this one point of view. But I've long suspected it is mostly the language that I stumble over. So much about the themes, ideas, and human experience are universal. So I try translating as I listen... God=the life force of the universe. Bible=one form of ancient wisdom. Prayer=energy/meditation/reflection. And that gets me pretty far.

Don't worry, my social and political liberalism are still fully in tact. And psychoanalysis will probably always be my first line of defense when trying to figure out issues of life/love/soul. I am just feeling drawn to looking for other kinds of wisdom as well. A place to think and talk about it. How to exist in the world. How to love and be loved. To connect with things greater than my own problems. Be part of community, with people of all stages of life. And sharing an important connection with my mom feels wonderful.

Not sure what it means yet or how long it will last. But it feels good for the moment. And I may have just signed up to sing in the choir...

Losing it over cheese (and believing in God for a few minutes)

I was sick all last week - feeling so bad that I even temporarily lost the will to blog [gasp]. Along with feeling physically down, it gets frustrating to be vulnerable and emotionally complicated to call in sick. I feel guilty, worry they'll think I'm lazy and faking it, wonder if I really should just suck it up and deal with it, worry people would be mad that I was spreading my germs if I went in... that internal battle in itself is exhausting.

And then making my way back into the land of the living was difficult. My group was in charge of providing snack for the weekly staff meeting. As we all volunteered our ideas via group email, I volunteered to get bottles of water and sparkly water from Costco since I had to go way up north anyway. But then someone suggested that I get cheese along with the water. I'm not sure how it happened, but for some reason the idea of having to track down cheese nearly put me over the edge. Maybe it was just that it wasn't my idea, and I wasn't feeling like I had the internal resources to do anything that wasn't on my own terms. People tried to tell me I could get cheese at Costco, but I was picturing only the mega-loaf. I didn't think we wanted that kind of cheese or that kind of investment in cheese. Someone tried to continue the conversation with me at lunch, and I had to leave the room before I started crying.

Part of me could see that this would probably be a temporary feeling, since I am usually pretty agreeable doing whatever needs to get done to in this kind of group situation. But I couldn't mentally adjust no matter what I did. So I told them I couldn't handle it. And somebody kind of let me off the hook, so I felt a little better.

I made my way to Costco, and I saw that there are tons of cheese choices. And I felt momentarily generous enough to buy a lovely little party platter. I felt good leaving the store, having gotten that and several other things taken care of. As I was loading my car, I wedged my clutch/wallet in the front of the cart for safekeeping, despite very clearly thinking, "That's dangerous; I could totally see myself forgetting that there." And of course I did.

I realized this as I pulled up to my next stop ten minutes later. I dropped everything and zoomed back up Hwy 99 PRAYING that it would still be there. I solidly belive in greater spiritual order and meaning in the universe, but I usually shy away from the Christian labels I grew up with. It's amazing how in the moments of desperation, I go back to my roots and the big "G".

Luckily, it was right where I left it! Maybe there is a God. I took it as a sign that I should pull into PaperZone as I passed it for the second time for some fabulous scrapbooking/collage paper. I often find my higher power in creativity these days.