Yep, that's right. I hate yoga.
It's an uneasy sort of night. Something doesn't feel right in my body, in my mind. My spirit is unsatisfied. Nothing feels right or good.
I have harsh words for myself as I choose my clothes for the day. Do you really need all this crap? Why the hell did you spend your money on that?
I drive to the yoga studio, but there isn't any music that can soothe me. The notes coming from the speakers in the car sound like broken glass scratching across my mind and in my chest.
In the studio, I unroll my mat. I sit in easy pose, hands resting on my thighs. I follow my breath, the inhale and the exhale.
What the hell am I doing this for? Do I really need to be here? I don't need to be here. I should be at home doing the dishes or cleaning up the endless piles of stuff that get taken out and not put away every day or taking Colden to the park or cooking or cleaning the refrigerator.
My arms move up and down. I'm pissed at myself. Pissed at all my shortcomings as a human being. I'm a terrible person. I shouldn't be here. Why the hell did I think I could be a yoga teacher? Wasn't that whole thing a big waste of time?
I tip my hips back into down dog, and it shoots into my brain, right before my closed eyes: I. Hate. Yoga.
I really do. I hate it. At this second, I'm intensely aware of every single character flaw, everything that my body is not capable of, everything that I should be doing instead of trying to make my body move into these strange positions.
I hate the way yoga makes me aware of what's not working in my life, because then it begs me to answer the question: What do I need to change?
I hate the way that yoga makes me understand that my discontent in this moment is coming just from me, and not from anyone else.
I hate the way yoga makes me ache for connection with other human beings, other people who may or may not be struggling the same way I am.
My brain is snarling at me, snapping like a terrified dog backed into a corner.
And then...and then...
There's the release. Just when I think I can't take anymore, when my stomach and my brain and my heart are stretched to their limits, everything just busts wide open, and...
Everything is fine.