Goodbye Ordinary

Archive for March 2013

Lost.

Posted on: March 28, 2013

I hate to admit it, but I have been slacking.

I fell off the wagon and stopped practicing at the UY pace.

I got back into the groove after having went on vacation and took a week off… but then the unthinkable happened and I’ve been simply fighting to exist.

A little back story… though I’m new to the wordpress world, I have had an online presence for years now. I got pregnant with my son in 2007 and found an online community of expectant mothers and joined two groups on Babycenter.com… Pregnant Teenagers & the October 2007 birth board (and then later, the April 2010 birth board). As with any large group, some cliques and spin offs formed from those two larger groups, and I got really close with many women across the world.

One of those groups was about 20 women or so… all due in Oct 07, and we all cloth diapered. We were very very close. We’ve talked for the past 6 years now. I honestly feel closer to them than I do with the majority of my family.

I’ve met a few of the women IRL now, but most I have not. However, that doesn’t make our bond any less. We are able to have a level of intimacy with one another that I have never experienced with friends IRL. We can truly be ourselves, talk of our fears, of anything, and it’s okay. These groups are like a safe haven. We can go, get unconditional love and support when we need it, and turn around and give it back to them when another mom needs it. It’s hard to put our relationship into words.. But to put it simply, it’s amazing. It’s better than family in some ways, because it’s a choice.

A couple weeks ago, there was a post in one of my groups that literally took my breath away. Every parents biggest fear had happened to one of MY friends, MY sister (of sorts). One of our fellow moms lost her child. Her five year old child. A child who was only a week younger than my son. A child who I have watched (through pictures) grow and learn and transform into this amazing little human, with such intelligence, creativity, and love.

My whole world stopped.

Obviously, not in the same way as that mother’s did. But as of that moment, my life wasn’t the same. I wasn’t the same. Our family lost someone dear to us.

I felt as if I was broken. Sobbing uncontrollably for days, at the smallest thing. Everything made me think of it. Of why. Of how. Of how easily it could have been any one of our children. How easily it could have been MY child. But more importantly that this woman, who I love like my own sister, is now going through something so painfully heartwrenching, and there is hardly anything that I can do to dull that pain.

I have literally felt like I’ve been in a haze. I haven’t been able to make sense of it. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to process the death of a child in my life. I feel defeated, broken, powerless. I am afraid. I am sad. I am emotional.

I went to a yoga class and there were a bunch of warriors in it. I felt like a phony. I was teetering on the edge of a breakdown every moment. With every breath, I was barely holding on. Strength?! Ya right. Right now, I am weak. My soul is aching. I don’t WANT to be strong. I want for this not to have affected someone so close to me. I don’t WANT to go about my life like it didn’t. I don’t WANT to move on. I want to remember. To remember him, his life, everything that his life meant, what all of our childrens’ lives mean. I don’t want to take it for granted.

In the past few weeks, I just couldn’t handle the mind/body connection that yoga provides. Yoga makes us feel so deeply. We feel so much more than we do regularly while we’re distracted. I couldn’t handle that feeling. Every time I’d start to practice alone, it was too much. I wanted to shrink away and just curl into the fetal position. Childs pose was the only pose that didn’t hurt (emotionally).

It’s been two weeks now since I found out about his death and I’m finally back to some sense of “normal”. I’m still emotional. I’m still hurting. But I’m able to function.

I have made an effort to get back on my mat and let some of the feelings in. I can’t make myself be numb forever. I have to figure out how to cope with what i’m feeling and get through this.

I won’t forget. I won’t take this life for granted. I won’t hide.

I’m going to focus on meeting myself where I am; phsyically, mentally, emotionally. That is my intention.

And with that, I will practice. And in practice, I’ll find myself.

-Brin

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Disclaimer: This is a very rambly, abstract post. I tried editing it because I’m not sure it makes the most sense but I get it & this blog is me. So…

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I never thought I was one that feared commitment. However, as time goes on and I think about the idea of commitment (in any and all aspects)… I found that I really am.

I am a gypsy of sorts.

I grew up an army brat, after hopping from place to place as a tot when it was just my mother and me. I didn’t get to plant roots. It was like I was always a potted plant and each place I went, I’d drop a few seeds, they’d shoot of other plants and before I knew it there were parts of me every place that I’d went. Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Texas, Illinois, Florida, Washington, China; even in my computer (Osms & PT will understand that). Not to mention, in many cases, those seeds didn’t land in soil, but rather on other people. Those roots grew in our friendship, and in many ways those people are a piece of my “home”.

Obviously, it’s not a very “stable” environment for a plant to grow. People change. The pieces of me that I left with them, I can’t get back. Sometimes, I don’t feel whole.

It may sound hard to comprehend because we all give parts of ourselves to others, but I honestly think with me it’s different than most. I never had that stability of a “home town”. I didn’t plant roots. My gypsy heart roamed free and in doing so, I never had the opportunity to share most of my memories with someone. The only constant people in my life have been my close family.

This may be an abstract way to explain my non-commital nature, but think about it. I’m sure many of you have at least one person friend that you can look back through your life and see them as a constant. “Best friends forever”. Sure, I had tons of “BFFs”. The thing is though, the only person in those friendships that held on once I moved to a different time zone… was me.

That has led to feelings of being replaceable. In truth, not only  being replaceable, but forgettable.

So naturally, when I try to think about my entire future (which will be longggg), it’s difficult to imagine it unfolding with the same people. At any time in my life, I could picture my future with the people I was with. I always thought those people would stay connected and be my friends forever. They didn’t. I moved and they moved on. I was just a brief blip in their memory.

I think this is why it’s so hard for me to stick to one thing. I get too attached and I want it to finally be a “forever” thing… Yet at the same time, I’m terrified that it will be like all of the other things in my past and it won’t. It will just be one more loss. One more piece of me missing from the whole. So, I hold back. I push when people get TOO close.

Now on to how this all relates to  yoga…

Ironically, yoga is something that takes a lot of commitment… but at the same time, none at all. My mat (and/or my practice) is there waiting for me any and every time that I want it. My spirit gets to feel all of those emotions that it normally holds inside. I get to let go of it, to uncork the bottle in a sense, and spill it allllll onto the mat. Then when I’m done I can pick up what I want to and go about my life; all the while knowing, it’s right there waiting for me the next time I need it.

Yoga won’t leave me. Even if I leave it, it will always be there waiting. A yoga practice takes commitment. It’s a lifelong journey. There will be times when it becomes too much. I’ll push too hard, the flood gates may open and I’ll decide to run away with my tail between my legs. When I decide to reapproach it though, it’ll be there just as I left it. Constant. Waiting to help me become whole again.


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