Over the weekend, I turned 35.
My brother reminded me I'm halfway to 70.
Naturally, I reminded Steve that he will be halfway to 90 next month.
I love love that is poke-fun love.
This weekend was pretty prickly.
I spent my birthday weekend being messy in front of people. Which does not come easily for me (my guess is that it doesn't come easy for most of us). The attention that comes from messiness makes me want to unzip my skin and climb out of myself.
I want to uphold myself in this image that I am strong and capable 24/7 which leaves little room for my humanness.
I am good at letting myself "hang out" through written words with painful experiences and truths, as well as ah-ha moments and funny business. That is where I let myself be messy.
I have been known for pairing pretty photos with lengthy word vomits on social media. Over time, it went from being a connective release to an outlet for hiding.
Maybe hiding is not the right word. But more like a tip-toe to let others see me by reading my words.
I could write really ugly words and pair them with a pretty photo to say:
"here are some ugly words to go with a pretty photo to make sure I wasn't too much.'"
Because in-person, I'm rather quite reserved, shy, and introverted.
I get clammy when people ask me about my writings online and even when they say nice things about them. I struggle with this relationship of being seen when it comes to face time action with people. It's weird, really. Like I want people to read my words but at the same time, I don't know that I always want to talk about it.
I've created a strange disconnect.
Like, that story no longer exists because I wrote it down.
Therefore, I can sorta-kinda turn it off.
That was me then, and here I am now.
This is another reason to stop curating myself online so much.
And with that stopping, I've had to learn to get comfortable disappointing people. Which is a good practice, as any, in this life.
I've taken this into practice for my teaching as well. Not planning every single detail for my classes. If you checked my journal from 2 months ago, you'd still read: "savasana" planned at the very end of each class. Writing that out loud makes me chuckle and I totally want to erase and not share that with you.
It doesn't mean I don't plan a class, full stop. It means that I'm working on trusting myself to let the yoga move through me. Keep it simple.
"Complexity is the enemy of execution."
That is my work.
And I've yet to skip savasana at the end of a class!
I'm working on allowing myself to be seen in front of others. This last weekend was not easy. Crying in front of people and talking about tough-love type stuff was hard. I'm working on breaking down walls. I'm not sure I really how to do that. I do know that walls keep me safe and no amount of hurt can get through them.
That's the thing about walls, though, they're built by pain.
So, while I try to keep pain out, I'm still living from pain.
What a mind-fuck.
This is where I'm at today.
Letting people in.
In person, not just writing out-loud.