Hello again! It’s been much longer than I like between blogs, but its a manifestation of a greater issue I’ve been dealing with in the last few months: taking care of myself.

I’m an overly sacrificial person. It’s true. Putting others in front of myself comes naturally, but I don’t do it in a healthy manner, as my comfort and happiness often falls by the wayside. It’s a different sort of selfishness, it seems, as it can produce a few results: resentment, a decision to give up, or exploding/releasing frustration on someone who doesn’t deserve it.

I teach yoga daily, averaging about 3 classes a day, along with checking in with my students, which can end up in some pretty heavy discussions. At the end of each day, I feel rather overwhelmed by not only my own regular issues of depression, nagging tasks, and the like, but I’ve continued to take on other people’s problems as my own, which never turns out very good for anybody.

About a week ago I had a few anniversaries of life-altering events: I was assaulted by a close friend of mine and got certified to teach yoga within two days of each other at the end of July 2014. Needless to say, the year anniversary brought up ENDLESS emotions and flashbacks to both the amazing and horrible pieces of my year. I’ve been on the verge of tears or crying daily for about two weeks, maybe more.

This isn’t a sob story. This is simply life. There are some shitty things that happen, even when you try to make all the right choices. That weekend changed me forever. I lost my job, my friends, my life, and was offered little to no support in the following weeks from places I needed it most. I was ready to give up.

But there were little pieces I had to hang on to, because I couldn’t allow giving up to be a choice, even when it seemed as though no one would care if I did, or would rather if I gave up.

So I fought.

It got a little easier each day to get out of bed. I finally started to be needed for some things (let me tell you, teaching yoga forces you to get up and moving). Then, as you all know, I had some pretty heavy deaths three months in a row: March took my Grandma, April took my Grandpa, May took my first dog and only constant from the last four years. Grief kicked me to the ground and I wanted to stay there, but the memories of my grandparents and Abner kept me moving a little while. Keep your head down and power through, I thought. Keep working. Keep breathing. Love others and keep their needs in front of you. Teach. Encourage. Love.

Mid-July someone asked me, “Who is your yoga teacher?” I was embarrassed to say, “No one.”

How, in the midst of trying to live yoga, care about others, and pursue my passion to teach, did I stop going to classes? I teach daily, so I practice about 1 to 2 hours a day. But rarely do I practice for myself. And when we’re talking selfishness, that is a good act of selfishness, as it only betters you and your ability to care for others. Seriously, how did I go a month without Savasana?! (For those of you non-yogis, that’s the final resting posture, where you simply lie there, relaxed, and its amazing.)

So as I went through these last two weeks, dreams filled with the face of the man who assaulted me, I was challenged by so many things: financial issues (being a yoga teacher isn’t so lucrative), roommate arguments, family mishaps, dog got into poison, car troubles, etc. I was overwhelmed, telling my mom and a few others that I felt like I was drowning. Not even close to making it through. But again, I kept on with my schedule as best I could: Teach. Encourage. Love. Then this week came along and when I felt like I couldn’t move, I decided to focus on the things each day that drove me rather than the things that broke me. My brother, who I don’t talk to as often as I would like, offering to help me fix my car. A new potential private client who asked about lessons after taking one class. Running my first workshop at the new studio, which was successful and fun. Hugs from my nieces and nephews when I got to see them last week. My little brother (only 20 yrs old) sending me a meaningful text about why he loves me. Such sweetness was in my every day, but I was choosing to see the crap that hurt instead!

In classes lately, I have been asking my students to focus on their hands as they sit in meditation, which is pretty normal in most meditative practices in the yoga community. But I added something different recently; I asked them to feel the power in their hands, the power to both build and break. How do you use your hands to build? How do you use your hands to break?

After extensive time discussing the Chakras for a workshop, I keep coming back to the Solar Plexus Chakra, which focuses on the Will. What do you choose? Each Chakra has an “I” statement paired with it, and the Solar Plexus is simple: “I DO”.

What do you choose to do?

The world can be pretty crappy. It can also be infinitely sweet. What do you choose?

Will you build? Will you break? Ask yourself this in reference to others AND yourself.

Back to my unintentional Savasana sabbatical. I finally went to a class two nights ago at the studio where I was certified, with one of my old teachers. It was a hip-opening workshop, and I was ready to work out the tension I had noticed in my hips. Ready to be emotional and cry (which is normal in those deep hip-opening postures and a reason most of my students have a love/hate relationship with me), ready to feel everything and power through. And I worked through most of the two hours without giving up. I think I pulled out of the pain for only a few minutes, somehow, but mostly because I always tell my students to stay in it and didn’t want to be a hypocrite. Half-Pigeon, one of my favorites, was miserable; I’ve avoided it while I teach since it usually brings me to tears and, well, nobody wants to be taught by the crying yoga teacher. But I stayed. Bhekasana, or Frog pose, was nearly unbearable, but I almost doubled my time staying in it. I cried a lot. Then came Savasana.

Oh crap. I hope my brain shuts off. “I haven’t felt the Savasana high in months,” I thought. “What if I can’t do it again? I need it so badly.”

Oh, by the way, if you aren’t a yoga practitioner, you might need to know its fairly addictive, which is why my thoughts mirror those of a crazy person. Also because I’m likely a crazy person who also is addicted to yoga.

Then Chelsea, my teacher, led us to the resting pose. I let my eyes close. And it happened. My body and mind connected with the music and I started to see gray vibrations in congruence with the beats. The visions of living happy and at peace came back. I saw myself sitting quietly with my love on the beach (my most restful place). I saw myself walking through a jungle, surrounded by greenery, the sounds of birds and beauty. I saw myself meditating in Bali, taught by those who have been practicing yoga for leaps and bounds longer than I. Then I felt hands on my face, and a Voice whispering, “I’m fighting for you”. I melted. Whether or not you believe in God or whatever you believe He/She/It looks like, this isn’t important. At this point, I felt cradled by Someone much bigger than me, who will fight for me even when I haven’t the strength. I don’t have to fight alone. It was magnificent.

We came back to consciousness and I was elated. I left the studio refreshed and with the intention of putting my practice first again. I would begin to choose joy in my life. Choose to see the beauty. Choose to give myself a “yoga high”. Choose to build others by first building myself. Choose to fight. Choose to believe I am not in this alone. Choose to demonstrate love, starting with myself.

What do you choose?