A Beginning of Consciousness

So much has happened since I last left you with my journey into Phoenix Rising Yoga Therapy.  While my initial intent was to blog throughout my time in Bristol, Vermont I quickly found that writing publicly about my experience was proving to be quite difficult.  It was a jarring transition from the training environment to the rest of the world, even if a virtual one and I didn’t think that doing so was a good idea.  Even the few posts I had, short and sweet, were difficult to write as this technologically driven world doesn’t jive with the process of going inwards.

And so it begins.

After stepping out of my life for almost three weeks I now sit on an airplane typing this; preparing to step back into my life, and stepping into it in a much more authentic and present way.  Present in all the capacities that I can be: physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual.  I’ve spent so much of my life residing in the safety of just the physical and the mental that I’ve missed out on a lot by neglecting the other two.  Perhaps I didn’t even realize that they existed.  Failing to meet the basic needs of food and rest will do that to a person.

I emerge from this training strong and empowered to flourish, grow, and heal in my life.  My time in Bristol had many different shades and tones and interestingly it was as if my life was sent into rewind and then someone hit the fast forward button. Even my tone and verbiage correlated at different points to certain times in my past.  In real-time I went through a hyperextended back, a break-up, three moves (one atrocious!), and then to cap it all off I came down with a bad cold and a low-grade fever for four days.  In my sick misery I stumbled through the days, almost unable to be present in any capacity except physical and gravely frustrated by this.  I found myself at a crossroad.  I’ve never before been away from home and sick, whether it was really sick or eating disorder related and not gone home.  On the second day of being sick I felt so horrible that I was ready to call it quits.  My body and mind ached and I just wanted to be home. Then I realized it.  I don’t have to be at my physical home to be home. I have the power to nurture myself and to make the decision to rest my body to allow it to heal, to recover.  This is the path I choose.  I remained in Bristol and I got better.

This power to heal, to nurture myself resonates in a bigger sense.  I have often likened eating disorder recovery to a dance, two-steps forward, one-step back.

I’m calling myself out.  I’m one-step back.  Before going to training, my struggles were worsening.  Too much working out and not enough fuel.  I have an unfortunate ability to ignore my body and not hear its sufferings.  It was only after stepping out of my life long enough to come to some sort of equilibrium that I realized how much I hurt.  Without the mask of a stomach ache I could feel my bones ache with fatigue and hear my joints click.  I can feel the fogginess in my brain and while I can go on with it and often do, it just doesn’t feel right.

I have an intention upon my return to come back to create a stronger structure.  A focus around meals and a balance in movement. I don’t need to be working out an hour a day and then doing an hour of yoga.  What I do need is to listen to my body from the inside and allow it to come into truth from the inside out.  Will I like the result?  Perhaps not externally, but that isn’t what I am choosing to live for.   Maybe the Hannah of yesterday, thin, sometimes too so, isn’t the Hannah of truth.  I’m tired of holding up those mirrors of a stranger looking back at me when I look in.  I’m ready at last for the external to match the internal.  Even amidst all my recovery I don’t ever know that I’ve allowed that to happen.  I’ve remained attached to what I thought I should be, what I thought I should look like.

I get goose bumps as I write this but over the past couple weeks I’ve gotten many signs that this is a chance at rebirth.  This is a chance to metaphorically give birth to myself.  The unconditional love that a mother gives their child.  I can give this to myself. A second chance.  After so many years I fear what could be on the other side of not taking that chance.  I don’t want to find out and will gladly shake hand of truth and step forward.  Both feet in.

This is where I find my balance.

Balancing on Two Feet.