I wouldn’t call myself high-strung. But other people have so I figure I would put that out there in full-disclosure to explain the following:
I had an anxiety attack in Bikram.
Last year, when I took up the practice I did it for several reasons. One of these reasons: finding something I could channel every bit of energy into and learn to develop a focus and force myself to use better self discipline. I figured being in a 105 degree room and doing yoga would force me to be what I felt like I should be- less well, fine, high-strung.
Piano, clarinet, singing- these were all things I used to practice. They were things I was good and consistent at and then I turned into a college student who was too busy/self-conscious to continue. I wanted something to re-instill that sense of rigid practice in me. To feel like I had a metronome ticking away on my now exciting, crazy, flustering twenty something life.
When I first started going to the studio where I take classes, I was thorough. I arrived twenty minutes beforehand, had my water, towel and mat neatly tucked under my arms. I even coordinated my outfits.
This week, I found myself trying to juggle a million and one things. Family, writing, grad school, girlfriends, new boy, consulting and oh, yeah- Bikram. All of which lead to me rushing into the studio 5 minutes before class with nerves on edge.
“You need to be more together, Leslie-Ann.”
Yes, that is how my internal scolding voice uses my whole government to condescendingly tell me to hurry up. That is what I hear as I tap the hell out of phone’s touchscreen trying to make sure my phone is on silent. That is also what I hear when I end up being that girl who makes everyone have to shift their mats over ‘a tad.’ And as we start to do our breathing series, that is the thought that makes me crack.
I told one of my girlfriends my sob story on my way home toting my mat with me like a tail between my legs. How no matter what I did, my life is a cracking at the wrong places. She laughed at me. When I asked why, she said, “Yeah girl, but that’s life forever.”
I assume most women don’t have anxiety attacks while dehydrated in 105 degree rooms, but I know all women have something, some vice, some habit that can have us feeling like we are just making another crack. The truth is, those cracks are as much a part of us as the smooth places. Accepting them allows us to embrace the totality of who we are instead of railing at ourselves for not being who we think we should.
Today, embrace your life even the cracks. And breathe.