Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Late Night? Early Morning? Ramblings....

Wowza! Flow training was marvelous, remarkable, scary, anxiety ridden, exhausting, and perfect.

It gave me hope and gave me peace.

And was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. Every day I wanted to leave. Every day I stayed, I practiced, I breathed.

After 7 days I left with a new family unit and part of myself I haven't seen in a while.

The biggest take away from flow is that in my getting lost, in my journey, in all of this, it's okay to move one day at a time. It's okay to know that something is coming tomorrow but that today is where you are and what needs your attention.

I lived with three beautiful souls and yes, it was 7 days, but each one taught me something, gave me something and I hope I was able to reciprocate.

Funny side point: I really didn't think I was sleeping the best while there, and I wasn't, but since coming back my sleep has been horrendous. It's at a peak now which is why it's 4:45am and I'm writing. I've been awake since just after midnight. If my body gets three hours of solid sleep it feels nourished and ready to go until I start feeling sick, exhausted and crash again but only for three hours.

I'm going to try and not crash today, even if it means I stay up for 24 hours, I need to reset. I need to push harder to pull through.

Two flow practices a day made me realize I am strong. I am capable. I can persevere.

The trouble always is staying inspired. Staying motivated. And staying grateful.

I really think people mix up positivity and gratefulness...because at the end of the day, it's okay for me to say "Ya know what, today wasn't my best, but I get to start again tomorrow. I get to try again. I get to sleep in a bed, with a roof over my head, with a fully belly and friends who care and support me and that is enough for today." With gratefulness of each day, eventually (I hope) I'll get to "And I'm enough"And until then well, Fall TV is starting up. ;)

"Lazy doesn't exist. Lazy is a symptom of something else. The person who can't get up off their butt is just a person who's depressed. It's usually a pervasive lack of self-worth, or a feeling of helplessness."-Jillian Michaels

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Time Marches On

It's been too long.

So much has happened and yet it feels as if nothing at all has occurred.

Currently, I'm listening to Middle of Nowhere by Selena Gomez and riding the VIA to Montreal for more yoga training. And I'm scared to death. More scared than I remember being in a long time.

It's hard to put an exact time on it but these last 2-3 years have been hard and I know a lot of people close to me are worried. They express concern, sent encouragement, and walk on egg-shells.

Ya know that picture of your life you create growing up?

It feels as if I'm as far from that picture than I ever have been before. Because I got out and then regressed. Living in my childhood home, less money in my bank account than when I was 16, fewer job prospects and passion, desire, drive that is stagnating.

Please, don't get me wrong. Teaching yoga. Practicing yoga. The connections I've made over the past few years have been life changing, inspiring and keep me going.

But I have gotten very lost along the way.

And I may be at the breaking point. I keep telling myself that's okay, it's okay that for the next week as I struggle in my yoga practice, struggle in learning about anatomy, struggle in having roommates, that it is okay to break down. It's okay to feel what I'm feeling.

My life has been built of suppressing and repressing despite my nature of living with my heart on my sleeve. Smiling at strangers. Laughing to myself on walks. Seeing the storm clouds roll in and watching with amazement and in stunned silence at the beauty of the storm.

I moved home from a journey I never intended to come back from.

Vancouver has a part of myself that I struggle with wanting back and wanting to just move forward...

After I got home one of my good friends came over for a catch up, she'd had a really rough year while I was gone, and yet she could see something I hadn't even acknowledged, and I'm paraphrasing, but she mentioned how I seemed harder, less likely to laugh, smile, and this is  my interpretation, that my spark had gone out.

She could not have been more right. That was over 2 years ago and I'm not sure it's back yet, but it's flickering. The embers just need some oxygen.

I'm going forward, the pressure that in my life, the stress, the anxiety, my inability to breathe deep, my aversion to practicing yoga, the fear of not being good enough, my broken relationships, all of this is going to turn me into a diamond. And diamond's are a girl's best friend.

And if I don't become a diamond, well, I'll still be okay, because as Leonard Cohen said, "there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in."

Saturday, March 8, 2014

When all that's left is the memory

So my paternal grandfather finally let go.

He had a rough January. I think that not being able to celebrate his anniversary and birthday with my Grandma took it's toll and he ended up having a stroke.

This extra lose of control just weighed on him. On his body but also on the part of his mind that was still him. 

So it wasn't a huge surprise when the Doctor called to say he was on oxygen and not doing very well.

So I went to yoga with my mum and we headed to see him after. My dad was already there and being my dad, he was dealing with it as best he could.

BUT Grandpa/Shorty was eating well when we arrived so we let him finish and then had a good visit.

Mum and I talked about the twins and how it was getting close to their arrival. But mostly I just knelt beside him, my hand on his arm and breathing with him. Mum let him know it was okay if he was ready to just let go because Grandma and Uncle John were waiting for him. And he started to cry.

After a while, Mum and I left so my Dad could have time with Grandpa alone.

And he started to improve again.

A few days later, I taught a double and took a class after and when I finally checked my cell phone I knew. My cousin had texted me asking how I was. My dad had texted and emailed telling me he was gone.

I find it both amazing and mind boggling that on both days my grandparents left me I was full engrossed with yoga. I taught a SUP class and felt so at peace when Grandma had her heart attack and was in the ER and then this double and practicing when Grandpa finally left. I wish they could have somehow taken one of my classes but they are apart of me, my practice and my teaching and for that I'm grateful.

The next day I helped my dad, mum and uncle clear out my Grandpa's room. I found the post card I had sent him from LA in one of his drawers.

I didn't really need to be there but I think my dad needed the support, I think he liked having his family with him.

Even though this has been a long time coming and my grandpa has been losing control from the Alzheimer's for many years now, and so essentially he was really already gone, it still hurts, I still miss him. But I'm glad we got some time together before he had to go and he'll always be a part of me.

I lost both my  paternal Grandma and my paternal Grandpa within 8 months but I'm always waiting for two new arrivals in the form of my nephews. One door closes another opens doesn't it?

And I've been working since September with Memory Ball, an event that raises funds for the Toronto Alzheimer's Society, an event that brings awareness to a huge cause of death in Canada, and allows for there to be communication about a disease that has really touched my family.

Thank you Shorty for teaching me to laugh, for teaching me to love travel, for raising a wonderful son (father, and soon to be grandfather), for your love of story telling, for sharing your love of water with me.

No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.     
                                                                                                                               Haruki Murakami