Last night, I cried myself to sleep at 3:30 a.m. after a discussion with my boyfriend. Like all relationships, some stuff works and other stuff doesn't. We were discussing the "doesn't."
This morning, I woke up at 8:30 and went to my Bikram yoga class. The 90-minute, 26-posture, 105-degree, and 40%-humidity class was just the challenge I needed to take my mind off of things. The session is designed as a moving meditation, a time to focus on yourself and your breath. The front and side walls are lined with mirrors, and an instructor verbally guides the class through each posture. Today, while my body felt good and did most postures better than usual, my mind and emotions were a turbulent sea. Thoughts of last night's conversation flashed and tears rolled down my cheeks, entirely unnoticeable in a room filled with people dripping sweat from head to toe. Then today's instructor, Izzy, told a short story.
"Look at yourself in the mirror," she reminded us. "It isn't always easy and it takes practice." She paused for a moment, then went on. "A woman in another class told me it took her two years to look into her own eyes in the mirror. Two years! And she was a beautiful woman. Gorgeous, in fact, with model good looks." Izzy paused again. "Remember, it's not easy for any of us. Just keep trying."
"It's not easy for any of us." That struck me. First off, I've been trying and failing to look at myself in that blasted yoga mirror for last three months. Looking into my own eyes is tough. A little easier is eyeing a particular body part. For example on "eagle pose" where you twist yourself like a pretzel, I notice the chubby part on the side of my torso just under my armpits. My yoga top digs in, so I get a good view of the fat there. I judge it. It's ugly. It needs to go.Each posture twists differently and I see my body in every possible contortion. Once in awhile I think, "Hmmm, looking better" or maybe even, "Looking good." But more often than not, the thoughts and feelings are negative. They don't come to me as words though, like "I'm too fat." Rather, it's more of a feeling, like a ghost passing through on a brief gust of chilled air. But before the chill can turn into a shiver, the feeling is gone and does not register consciously. So, I don't think of myself as a person who hates herself. On the outside, I walk through life seemingly happy and smiling, but it turns out that on the inside, I'm haunted by the ghosts of self-hate. They pop in and out wordlessly, and constantly. I'm just so used to them, that I don't notice they are there.
"It's not easy for any of us." Even that gorgeous unnamed woman that Izzy spoke of struggles with self-hate. And if she's anything like me, her body is the least of her troubles. What of her soul? What of my soul? I would take the fattest, ugliest, pock-marked, crippled body for my soul to be free of it hating itself. To feel unadulterated joy, to love myself...not partly, but wholly. Not some of the time, but all of the time. My! Now, that would really be something!
No, it WILL be something. I intend to feel that way. I'm going to fight the hate by singing my praises to myself. And I'll start now with a few things that I think are really great about me:
* I exude good, friendly energy that makes me fun and easy to be around.
* I make fabulous tarter sauce.
* I am open to new ideas and ways of thinking (this one will be important in my current quest to shoo out the ghosts).
* I help my friends and family willingly and with joy.
* I have a cute butt.
While writing the list, I felt a feeling wash over me. One of those pesky ghosts. In words, it's something like "How silly. How remedial. I did this stuff 10 years ago. Why am I still working on the issue of self-hate? Who wants to read this drivel..." But you know what (I say to myself and to my ghosts)? Remedial or not, if it gets me to my goal, then good for me.
As for today's tears, I see now that they too were caused by the ghosts. And I feel good knowing I have it in me to be my own Ghostbuster and make myself happy. Here's to no more tears...someday.
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