Yoga is my girlfriend.

Happy Mother’s Day. This post has absolutely nothing to do with Mother’s Day, but my mom is going to like it. Honestly, I could plagiarize haiku about cat poo and my mom would like it.

Litterbox not here.

You must have moved it again.

I’ll poop in the sink.

See. I’m sure my mom liked it. That’s what moms do. And that’s why they have a day. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. This part of this post is for you.

These thoughts have been marinating for a week or so and I had the sudden thought that it was time to put them down. This could just be a slothful ploy to try to keep myself as far from productivity as possible on my day off, as it seems to have resulted in my butt on the couch again. Either way, I’ve been packing up clothes to donate for the last hour and three trashbags full of ridiculously large clothes (for me) are now in the trunk of my car. I used to be a bit bigger than I am now, and I was ashamed of my body so I wore baggy clothes to hide it. Just for today, that has changed.

Weight is an interesting thing. My experience is that we seem to be incapable of accurate self appraisal when it comes to our weight. Our magical, mystical, magnifying minds won’t allow a true assessment of how we look. I know many people who I would call skinny who look at themselves in the mirror and see an overweight person. For me, it was the opposite. I couldn’t see how overweight I had become. I looked in the mirror and I saw the same person I had always seen. In fact, it was weird to me that I had to keep buying larger clothes.

A year ago, I was working on the 9^th step (the amends one) and a huge part of that was making amends to me for how poorly I had treated my body and my spirit for so many years. I set about trying to treat myself like I was someone that I loved and cared about. It was HARD. I’ve always identified outward and my drug of choice is love from you so to treat myself as special as I would treat you was a daunting task. There was a whole lot of acting as if in the beginning. It was foreign, it was uncomfortable, and everything in me screamed out against it. Women seem to think that self-care is a sign of selfishness. It isn’t. Kick that lying bitch to the curb. Self-care isn’t even a want, it’s a need. No one else is going to do it for us. I took baby steps. I tried to do some of the kind and generous things for myself that I would historically sacrifice my own needs in order to do for you. And it started to feel kind of good.

Then this happened. July 4, 2014 this picture was taken of me.

 I was having a great time with great friends and this picture popped up on facebook. I saw in that picture something that had been unapparent to me for many years – the weight. I cringed. You know the feeling. That ugh in your gut kind of feeling. But I had begun to build this foundation in the step process of self love and acceptance so rather than deleting the photo and burying my shame-filled head in the sand, I made a decision to change.

I started trying to lose weight. I began and completed couch to 5K, I got a fitbit, and started a strict calorie control diet. And it started to work, but physically I was feeling worse and worse. I needed help. There is an incredible amount of conflicting information out there about nutrition and exercise. I’m really good at following directions, but I couldn’t seem to find any consistent direction to follow. Then I took a step that changed the entire direction of my life. I hired a health coach.

I discovered that my attempts at losing weight had nothing to do with self-love, they were about self-loathing. I was trying to change myself into something loveable – something you would love. What I was doing was the antithesis of amends to myself. I was trying to force my body into something that you would find more attractive so that I would find love. I was depriving myself of what I needed for you AGAIN. And I never even saw it coming. I ditched the fitbit, I deleted the calorie counting app on my phone, I started eating food that was real food, and I was introduced to yoga.

I had been to one yoga class before and I swore I was never going back. It was a “beginners” class. I walked in and everyone there seemed to know each other and everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing. It felt like being in school all over again. It brought up every single one of my insecurities and fears and I never wanted to be in that position again. But sometimes our Higher Power has a plan for us whether we like it or not. I started getting these stirrings that I should give it another shot. They got louder and louder until I couldn’t block them out any longer and I asked my health coach if she would help me start doing yoga.

It was scary. I ain’t gonna lie. My first private lesson with her = terrified. My first class with her = terrified. My first “beginners” class with another instructor = terrified. My first hot flow class with ANOTHER instructor = terrified. My first class at a different studio = terrified. But I wanted it. I knew that I could do it. I just kept acting as if I wasn’t scared. Fear is very tall and it’s very wide, but it isn’t very deep. If you try, you can push right through it.

And I’ve done all of the things that we’re scared of when we thing about doing yoga. I’ve worn yoga pants and a tight tank top. I’ve forgotten which side is which and lunged on the left when it should’ve been on the right. I’ve fallen spectacularly on my ass when practicing Side Plank. I’ve gone into completely the wrong pose. I’ve fallen forward on my face with a resounding BOOM out of Crow. I’ve had one sneak out despite all of my best efforts to keep it in (if you don’t know what I mean, keep coming back and you will). I’ve wept in Child’s Pose. All of those things have happened and I survived. And all of those things have happened to the person next to me in class and they survived, too. I realized that when these things happen to someone else in class, if I even notice, I don’t judge them. I internally applaud them because they’re here, they’re trying, and they’re pushing themselves further than they’ve gone before even though it’s hard and even though they could fall on their faces.

I realized how far I’ve come a few weeks ago when I fell (for about the 5^th time) trying Crow pose and I sat up smiling. I was laughing at myself. There was no judgment and no negative self talk. I rejoiced that I could just keep trying. That I DO just keep trying.

Through the lifestyle changes that I’ve made, I have lost a lot of weight. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel good when people comment on it. I’m human, afterall. But the confidence and the joy for life that I feel isn’t because I’ve lost weight. The weight loss was the impetus that brought me to yoga. Yoga has brought me confidence and joy for life.

The first time I walked into the studio, I never would have imagined that it would become home to me. It truly is my favorite place to be. I’ve met some amazing women there who have brought so much to my life.

Through yoga, I have learned that I can challenge myself and even when I fall short, I can celebrate the challenge.

I’ve learned that through patience and practice and I can accomplish most anything.

I’ve learned that for the 60 or 75 or 90 minutes that I’m in practice, I can send the rest of the world away and nothing else matters. For the first time ever, I can truly be in the moment.

I’ve learned that breath is life and I can get through anything in life if I just take some time to breathe.

I’ve learned that I can sweat more than I would’ve thought was possible.

I’ve found a community of amazing women who have become some of my favorite people in the world.

I’ve learned that I am stronger than I ever would’ve believed.

I’ve learned that it’s ok to not be able to do something, that you won’t judge me or think less of me, and I don’t have to either.

I’ve learned that yoga pants are really comfortable although they don’t have pockets. (the bag I carry is NOT a purse)

I’ve learned that Savasana is glorious and stillness is necessary.

Most of all, I’ve learned that weight is just a number. I had 10 more pounds that I really wanted to lose but that goal that seemed so important not too long ago has just fallen away. I learned that if I take care of my body, my body takes care of me. Sure, sometimes I feel like a sausage in my yoga clothes and as graceful as I’d like to be, I’m still pretty sure that I resemble a basset hound running a whole lot of the time, but once I get on my mat, I’m strong and brave and solid and centered and I know peace. Nothing else in the world gives me that feeling. I’ve looked so many places for it – drugs, food, sex, work. Each is temporary and each ultimately caused me pain. Yoga stays. Yoga is my girlfriend right now. We’re happy together.