My body tells the story of my life. Five years ago I finally acknowledged the communication coming from my body and since then have been tuning in more frequently and willingly.
The longing within to be witnessed cannot be forever repressed (for any of us) without causing dis-ease. Being a health advocate and coach for others, how could I continue this way? I sure as hell tried, but when I started yoga therapy training I made an unknown agreement to hear the longing. So I have been working on my ambivalence, attempting to lay aside my discomfort in listening.
Healing is a journey and the only way out of the discomfort is through. I, as many of you reading, have developed a whole bunch of strategies and stories to ignore and distract myself from discomfort (suppressed truth). What I know now is that the feelings of my body are my teacher. And interestingly, it's far more uncomfortable to live out of alignment than in, physically and metaphorically.
In my chest I often feel sensations of anxiety. In my belly there is a dark rock of sadness that is about the size of my two hands clasped together. I don't identify with them as who I am, so even though they are pretty constant companions, I very rarely put on their nametags. It's incredibly uncomfortable to 'be that'. When I do, I'm usually alone or with a trusted and beloved friend or therapist. This morning I gave myself a yoga therapy session so that these parts of me could be witnessed => seen and heard.
Lately I find myself constricted in the abdomen. Holding? Protecting? Trying to look skinny because the world hates fat? (Such crap.) I'm not sure. It's a habitual contraction so who knows how long its been there. I found it because I noticed it was restricting my diaphragm from moving freely when I breathe, which is also one of the causes of my anxiety. Now when I notice it, I experiment with releasing the tension to see how it changes my experience in the moment. Sometimes I take a deep breath into the space that it frees up. Often, a few moments later when I've mentally moved off somewhere else and then remember to focus again, the holding is back.
There is also strength in my body. I see it in the musculature of my arms and thighs. I feel it when I exercise, particularly in planks and when I'm walking uphill and doing dead lifts. I prefer strength training to cardiovascular training. There's something about the intense beating of my heart that has a fragile tipping point from feeling healthy to feeling frightening and overwhelming. Perhaps it's too much like anxiety.
It feels good to feel strong but it takes a lot of effort. It is interesting that my sense of strength is physical but I don't often feel it in the psycho-emotional realm of who I am. My independence and achievements in life have often garnered "praise" of strength from others. But that's not what it feels like to me. What I am noticing of late is that I am gaining strength in spirit from being truthful and living more authentically.
Revealing truth can feel tender and vulnerable. Vulnerability is such a powerful sensation! Also a tipping point I think. Without it, we cannot be real. With it comes fear of judgment, shame, guilt, ... all those uncomfortable sensations that make us feel less than. "Less than" holds hands with fear of rejection and feeling unlovable and unworthy. Ick. Who wants that? But in reality, all of it makes up who I am, and I really don't want to reject any of those parts, otherwise, I'd be somebody else. And really, deep down, I love ME.
And about expectations, ugh! How many YEARS, DECADES, have been wasted trying to meet the expectations of others? Particularly those whose opinions matter most. Today, while I feel the grip of expectations loosely, it still pisses me off that they even have a hold at all. I call bullshit on them all the time, and yet, they persist. I think its just another layer of the unfolding of my story. If I continue to do the work of befriending what I'm feeling and sensing, eventually expectations will find another host, and another layer will be revealed for my self-study.
Yep, the work of peeling the onion only ends when we die. (Or does it?)
There's a family living within my body: hope, joy, shame, doubt, uncertainty, anxiety, fear, worry, confidence, love, and many others. There is also a 17 year old who keeps getting shoved to the inside, window seat of the bus. She's about midway back, on the left as you look back. Each time one of the passengers sharing her seat gets up, she slides over anticipating making it to the aisle and eventually being able to stand up and walk forward. For years, she's been getting pushed back over to the window. She's quiet. Doesn't feel empowered to take the aisle or speak up and ask for her turn to be seen and heard. When she does, she's going to ask the driver to pullover, stop the bus, turn off the ignition, and turn around and listen. Then she'll turn to the back of the bus and face the rest of the family and begin speaking from her heart. They'll recognize her because they share the same heart, which will be POUNDING OUT OF HER CHEST because she has for so long been patient and afraid, waiting for her turn, waiting to be asked how she feels, what she needs. To be validated. But on this day, the waiting will end and she will make her turn, and they will listen because she speaks for all of them.
This morning she scooted over to the aisle end of the seat. One hand is on the seat in front her, to bolster her when she stands up to stop the bus. The other is over her RACING heart. She's fucking scared! And yet, she KNOWS that liberation is on the other side of the fear.
For now though, she's riding until she knows the time is right. Her mantra "I am worthy" is like fuel in the tank of courage, which by the way, is also holding hands with vulnerability. Once the tank is full, she'll take a deep breath, stand up, and never sit back down in that seat again.
In the spirit of connection and healing~
YL
