This Is Change


Change is coming.

What’s that they say, the infamous “they,” there’s no change without change.

Yeah.

I think that’s the one.

So.

Change.

I got up and changed into my yoga pants (which really, let me tell the truth, they never were yoga pants before, they played yoga pants on tv, they were pajama pants, no longer, on no, they have officially graduated to prime time) and a tank top and a loose top over that.

Too much clothing in hindsight, but I wore what I felt comfortable with.

I pulled my hair up into a top knot.

I did my morning routine and did my breakfast and coffee and writing.

I outed myself all the fuck over social media.

I was feeling ridiculous with the fear.

Upset bowels and all.

REALLY?

It’s like my tummy can’t take anxiety, there is a reaction.

I was dressed, fed, coffee’d up and I knew it was time to get online and register for the class.

The minute I finished filling out the fields and was about to put my credit card info in to charge for the first class today, my stomach went into knots and I had to fly to the bathroom.

Good gravy.

My body does not tolerate fear.

AT ALL.

Purged and ready to go.

Jesus fuck.

Anyway.

Got that out of the way.

Sat back down, finished the payment and breathed.

I got a supportive text from my person, then a phone call check in and then, ok, I’m doing this.

I grabbed my yoga mat.

Which is not mine, it’s my housemates, I’ll be purchasing one here tomorrow, just up the street at the co-op I’m a member of.

Ah.

Yeah.

Heh.

I’m a California girl.

Want to know the really funny part?

I wanted a kale salad after the work out.

I mean.

I was really craving kale.

I almost trotted up to the market, but the sudden down pour got my ass back to my house and happy with what was in the fridge to eat, which was lovely too (homemade brown rice, turkey with brussels sprouts and asparagus, a super succulent apple, good tea and fabulous company–my best girl came into the city from Castro Valley) and to a hot shower.

I needed it, the shower, and the company and the food.

And.

The yoga.

I had a wash of intense gratitude come over me at one point.

This is where I am supposed to be.

It was such a sure feeling.

So positive and affirming.

And.

I had moments of what the fuck am I doing, I can’t do this, I look like an idiot, I can’t hold that pose, who can hold this fucking pose, holy shit, she can hold this pose, I can’t do this.

And.

Then I would push through and just try again.

Even when I fell on my ass.

Yes.

I fell on my ass trying to do side plank.

And I just “oofed” and then I collapsed in child’s pose and laughed.

I full on belly laughed.

Even the instructor giggled.

It was great.

I don’t have to take myself so damn seriously, nobody else does, why the hell should I?

I learned a lot though, I learned I’m not as bad as I thought and that there is always something new to learn, another place to grow, another place to experience change and movement.

“I think it’s going to crack you wide open,” my friend said tonight after dropping me off at home.

We had the best date ever!

So good to have a girl friend date.

She came over to my place and kept me company while I ate my lunch, we had tea, caught the fuck up, commiserated about work and school and life, then we headed over to a movie at the Balboa Theater.

We saw Hail Cesar, the new Coen Brother movie.

It was great.

The company, of course, was fantastic and it was such a pleasure to hang with my friend.

We had dinner after at House of Shanghai, you know if Patricia Unterman gives it the thumbs up is has to be good.

It was phenomenal.

Then after a latte at the cafe down the block and we headed over to the Outer Sunset to do the deal.

Just such goodness.

It was a cozy, sweet, loving, lovely day.

Oh.

And yes.

I signed up for classes.

I am doing the Frequent “Flow’er” which is unlimited yoga, for $99 a month.

Which is actually $84 a month since they give a student discount and well, I am a student!

I committed to my person that I would work out three times a week and the price was right.  I will go at the three times a week and when I can, if I want to, which I have been told I will, I can go more often.

I signed up for tomorrow’s class at 10:30 a.m.

The class runs an hour and fifteen minutes.

It’s pretty perfect, get into my gear and walk a half block to the studio, come back home, toss my clothes in the laundry, shower, and get on with my day.

The classes that work for me happen on Mondays, Thursdays, Saturday, and Sunday.

I won’t be doing classes on the weekends I am in school, but aside from that I can and will be committing to the three times a week, and I don’t doubt when my body gets more used to it, or my brain relaxes enough to enjoy being in my body, I will go the fourth class.

I reminded myself too, while I was in the class trying to regulate my breathing and keep my hips aligned and my spine straight, and just ease into it all, that it was just for today.

Just today.

This is how it works.

One fucking day at a time.

I show up.

I showed up today and it was a miracle, at least for me, it was, it’s a life changer.

I can tell.

And I can’t foresee the exact change that it will illicit, but I know, it’s time.

I’m in.

You try until you can.

I’m going to try.

I am.

I am.

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