I’m not sure if you can realllllly believe this, but I’m kinda crazy. Not like full blown “lock me up and throw away the key”, but borderline “bathe me in Lavender, Cedarwood and Balance” kinda crazy. I get really overwhelmed…by my brain.
I have all of these super awesome ideas, but then I feel like I’m not doing it right. Or perfect. I taught my first yoga class at a studio last week. And I have done this here before, but it was for practice. I wasn’t “official”. And this wasn’t a “one-on-one” with a student or a private class. I didn’t co-teach. This was all me, baby. I advertised this shit so it better be good, ya?
For days I couldn’t sleep and cancelled things. I would feverishly work on new sequence ideas and what I wanted to say and what music I would play and how to determine the best possible lighting, but mainly what sequence I was going to do! And then I just shut down. Our bodies go into fight or flight mode whenever they are under stress and my easiest coping mechanism (besides eating the world) is to sleep.
And then that sly little drinking devil came to my door and knocked ever so silently: “Hey girl. Remember me? You thought this was what you wanted? This feels good? This worth it? How about them goals? Shhh…You’re an imposter. You’re not crushing anything. At least with me, you don’t feel anything…except good. You don’t have to worry about anything…”
And I believed him. I wanted it. That feeling it gave me. The feeling of negligence and being totally ok with it. When I drank, I didn’t have to be perfect. I didn’t have to accomplish anything. I didn’t have to finish what I started. I could flake out. Half ass. Bounce on to something else.
I just can’t stand being sober sometimes because I hate how I feel. Like I’m supposed to be living a yogic lifestyle and have a clear conscience and frame of mind. I’m not supposed to feel jealousy or resentment! And I feel even worse when I voice it out loud and someone puts me in my place. I’ve heard, “What would you do if you were in Yoga?” or “Just breathe” or “Don’t hold onto the resentment. You should know this.” and my favorite “Don’t worry.”
((And then the once calm and collected Lana rips off her glasses and tears at the unsuspecting helper of thy soul and karate chops them on their forehead and runs screaming to the nearest tavern…))
((Lana’s eyes get big and she feels like crying and the internal belittling dialogue ensues…and she goes to sleep….after she eats the world. Vegan world.))
I mean, shit! I literally AM dealing with it. I’m sitting in all this yuckiness and I know it’s gonna turn out alright. Just shut the hell up, Edward! And let me be a pissy pants for a minute. My therapist told me to not hold it in and I don’t and then you tell me some of that stupid shit that I PREACH and you can’t tell ME what I already know! Cleeeeearly I’m not going to live here because I am a SUPER HUMAN and I have LIFE FIGURED OUT!
So anyways, my class was totally just…ok. And then I did it again two days later. And it was better. And then I had another class and it felt good. And then another that was just so-so, but this is OK!!!! And I know that. I know this because I didn’t drink! I know this because this is always the process. I know this because…I know.
I’m not discrediting what I do and have done…because it is all beautiful and meaningful and helpful. I’m not here looking for advice and I’m not here asking for pity. As crazy as it may sound, I believe this pain/this anxiety/this crazy is my comfort. It’s what always shows up. In my music, with my family, in my writing, in my yoga practice… It’s constancy and pain has rendered a lot of beautiful moments for me.
One of my favorite things that cutie patootie, Glennon Doyle said is: “People don’t want shiny anymore. They don’t need perfect; they don’t even need good. They just want real.”
So that’s why I’m here. I set my intention to not take myself so seriously. Some days I succeed, most days I don’t. I don’t want you guys to see me as some all knowing guru or someone who even has all of her shit together. I want you to know that I still suffer and that I have to work my ass off to get through the discomfort. We can’t avoid it, man. We can’t.
And most of the time, people aren’t looking for that advice or that answer or that quick fix or the right thing that worked for you or what your Great Aunt Mildred did when they found all of her hidden liquor bottles or whatever else you feel the need to share when someone is experiencing their personal, momentary pain. Just sit there with them. And shut up.
This too shall pass…