So, I went to my first Healing Chest yoga class. Swoon! First of all, it was in my old neighborhood (Platt Park for all of your Denverites) so I was immediately feeling nostalgic and happy being back in my hood.
There were only 6 women in the class. I felt safe and normal among these women who have endured what I have and more. Each woman briefly explained what they had gone through. When it was my turn to speak I immediately had to grab my boobs. “Anyone else do this?” I said sheepishly still cupping my bosoms? They all nodded.
Now, don’t get it twisted…I’m not going to start marching around in a pink baseball hat calling myself a survivor and entering every breast cancer event that is out there.
This was the perfect amount of community. I just wanted to dip my toe in a little. And get my yoga on.
It was perfect.
I woke up sore this morning and smiled. It wasn’t a lupus sore. It was a yoga sore, which is the best kind. I worked for this pain, dammit. It wasn’t inflicted upon me unfairly by chronic illness. I felt open and light. AND didn’t have an pain around my implants. Hoorah.
It was a lovely restorative class. Soothing to my body and soul. Not to mention getting all of the kinks out of my aching bod. Yoga is a necessity in my life. It was supreme to be back on the mat. I felt like I was home. I know this all sounds tres cheeseball but I’m being sincere. yoga+emily= BFF. And I know you’re thinking “don’t you practice at home?” Yes, I do but it’s not the same.
Anyway, I can’t wait for next week.
In other news, I need to work on not being such a cranky ass in the morning. I am a morning person but not when I have to get two children ready for school. I just basically have to follow them around (especially Finn) and say “Did you brush your teeth? Brush your teeth. Finn. FINN! FINN, BRUSH YOUR TEETH!!” all while I’m standing next to him in the bathroom because otherwise he’ll spin off in another direction. Oy.
Hadley is a different story. Constant distraction but in a different way. I’ll say “Ok, babe, run upstairs and get clothes on and brush teeth.” “Ok!” she’ll say cheerfully.
I’ll come up 6 minutes later and she’ll be standing in her room in her underwear half way through an intricate art project using a recycling yogurt tub, construction paper and feathers.
When she sees me she’ll smile and delve into an explanation about what she’s making as if I had never told her to go upstairs and get dressed.
“GET READY!” I’ll say cheerfully. Or, I think it’s cheerfully, but I’m sure H&F would disagree. It never fails, as soon as both of them are out the door, I collapse and have to be still for about 45 minutes. Getting children ready in the morning is an Olympic event. Exhausting.
And now for a quote I love:
What is kinky?
Something with kinks or twists?
Well, that’s all of us, right?
It’s just a matter of finding who fits with your kinks.
To be loved unconditionally.
- Belle, Diary of a Call Girl
Crepes with nutella and tea are on the agenda for this afternoon. Just so you know.