Keep practicing when it feels like it's impossible to do so
especially when we don't know what to say or how to exist in this world
The past eclipse season has been quite challenging, and its lingering impact continues to affect me.
Last week, there was a sudden family health crisis (thankfully, it seems like things are now on the path to mending).
Of course, my inner doomsday prepper kicked into full gear. I couldn't help but anticipate the worst-case scenario – it's a valuable skill but can also be mentally exhausting.
I've also been closely following the news, particularly the situation in Gaza. It has been devastating to watch.
I find myself juggling the weight of my own personal crisis while acknowledging its insignificance compared to the immense suffering of others.
Since childhood, I've developed a coping mechanism of disassociating. It was my way of escaping difficult situations, a skill I became pretty good at. I'd often imagine becoming a different person or transporting myself to a different world while abandoning realities.
This tendency intensified in my twenties and persisted into my thirties, exacerbated by the demanding nature of my work. In the capitalist society, excelling at your job often means taking on more responsibilities. I struggled to find the "off" switch as more and more work came.
In the days following my resignation, I slept for over 18 hours a day. It was as if my body was trying to compensate for years of sleep deprivation and exhaustion. I suddenly didn't know what to do with my free time. I couldn't focus on books or movies. I didn't want to meet anyone - I did not want to explain why I did what I did, although most of my close friends never asked.
Instead, I turned to yoga – not because I knew the benefits of yoga or had a specific goal, but because I knew yoga would disconnect me from my phone and laptop.
I don't remember much about my first yoga class post-Apple, possibly because I was still in a state of dissociation.
The class1 was exceptionally challenging. I struggled to keep up with other students who appeared to be enjoying their practice. Yet, I noticed that my mind was clear. And this unexpected clarity kept pushing me to come back.
While I knew how to react to challenging environments by becoming someone else or disappearing, I didn't know how to truly feel them. My hypervigilance never wavered, even when life returned to normal and crises diverted.
Yoga became my pathway to reconnect with myself. It helped me understand my emotions, my surroundings, and my dissociation patterns.
This Monday, I attended a yoga class not as a teacher but as a regular student.
I was tempted to skip the class and avoid the weight of the collective sorrow and the ongoing heaviness. Yet, something deep inside me urged me to show up and to be there with my community.
Our teacher guided us to use our bodies to process our emotions. She helped us connect with ourselves and others on a deeper level via breath and movement.
In the words of a friend, this class felt like a form of prayer – a way to feel our grief and express our longing for peace without needing to say anything at all.
Surprisingly, I wasn't hiding. I wasn't numb. I wasn't disassociating.
I was in class with others, witnessing the power of processing our collective emotions through our bodies. I stayed present.
Our practice helps us create a space for our grief so that we can hold space for others. We keep caring for each other, however harsh and violent the world is.
Keep practicing.
I HAVE BEEN READING — THIS QUOTE
via
JOURNEY TO THE BODY
The body will always tell the story of our woundedness in a language so direct and simple that it can be too much to bear witness to. As protection, the mind pulls away and keeps itself isolated from the body. The most radical project we could ever engage in during our lives is the project of embodiment. This is the most radical act because there is no liberation without the union of mind and body.
—LAMA ROD OWENS
This is a beautiful share, thanks Sue. I'm happy to hear that yoga helped you to feel and identify your emotions. This is something my daughter struggles with and I often wonder what will be the catalyst for helping her with it. I think that anxiety (or dissociation) can become worse when you can't identify what you're feeling...it's like a vicious cycle.
Thanks for this reminder about mind connecting with body. I can feel what you mean about reluctance to connect, yet knowing the value of connecting. Sometimes I feel like a pouting child resisting the connection :-)