Lessons Learned: Adventure #1 (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

My very wise child bought me this journal for Christmas.

Since having surgery I have become hyper aware of every morsel of food that goes into my mouth. What I have discovered is that, more often than not, I stuff food into my body to quiet my inner voice (aka dull the feelings).    

Cue inner voice…
I am totally worried [insert fretful worry du jour here]. Oh hey look, these yummy jellybeans will be delicious and give me something else to think about for ten minutes. Oh, yummy!

Half an hour later…
Crap, I just ate 200 calories in jellybeans. Oh, hey look… this sugar free fudgsicle will distract me and stop me from feeling bad about myself and it’s sugar free and fat free. It’s healthy! I’m doing something healthy for my body!

One hour later…
Fuck, there is nothing healthy about eating a shit ton of jelly beans and two (yeah, two… hangs head) fudgsicles. Why can’t I stop eating? Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, I’m going to be just another fat girl that failed at surgery (and an unemployed one at that). I hate my life. I need to feel better. Maybe I’ll have an apple and some almond butter to soothe myself. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m a grown ass adult and I’ll eat a fucking apple if I want to eat an apple. Who’s gonna be mad at me for eating an apple?

Welcome to my Friday afternoon my gentle snowflakes – also known as the past 40-some years of my life – a life, as we have previously discussed, pretty much sans any healthy coping mechanisms.

So I knew going into this year if I was going to be successful in my health journey the first thing I was going to have to do was find a healthy coping mechanism to replace food. I knew yoga was probably “the thing,” though I couldn’t tell you why when I chose it. I just knew that, in my mind, it was the thing that was going to get me to old age in one piece.

So I went to yoga once (and farted) with my buddy, Mark, and then went again with Mr. Adams, and then again with my friend Tracy, and then a second time with Tracy and eventually bought a two month unlimited membership to the studio and went all on my own this week.

When I am “in my practice” – which is fancy yoga language for stretching and contorting the shit outta my body in silence - I feel extraordinary. The tape recorder on loop in the back of my head quiets and I become keenly aware of the ying and yang of life. (Sorry to be so “yoga-ish,” but if the rubber grip toe sock fits…)

I am soft, but strong. I am wise, yet giggling inside with joy as I fold forward and my ribs touch my thighs for the first time and I squeal, “Look what we are doing!” to my body. I am in control, yet vulnerable – eyes closed, guided through a practice by a teacher I don’t know yet inexplicably trust. I am part of a community, yet so inside of myself. And I’m doing it all in the middle of a yoga studio in Grosse Pointe, home of the resting bitch face soccer mom. Feeling completely comfortable there is a victory in and of itself.

It is all such a beautiful chaos.

When I started the month, I defined victory as being skinny enough that I could contort my body into a pose that was previously unattainable. I had no idea that the practice of yoga would become so much more and that the lessons learned on the mat would far transcend the physical. As much as I am breaking my brain, I am fixing it.

​Adventure number one in the twelve great adventures of 2016? Total success.    ​