Posts Tagged ‘restorative yoga’

No One Is Reading

June 12, 2017

Two days in a row.

Not a single hit to the blog.

Wow.

Taking it off social media certainly did the trick and since I will be starting with two new clients this upcoming week I am grateful that I have cleaned things out.

I also winnowed out a lot of other “friends” on facecrack and my social media has come down to me checking into restaurants and yoga.

Yeah.

I did another day of yoga today.

I wasn’t planning on it, although I knew it was an option, I sort of played today by ear.

I didn’t want to stress myself out but I also wanted to make sure that I was prepped for the upcoming week since it will be long and busy and full.

I had a speaking engagement this morning so I got up early on my Sunday and did my morning routine and wrote a bunch and then headed to the Mission.

Sometimes I miss the Mission.

I will have nostalgia for it, especially when the Outer Sunset gets socked in with fog, but this morning I didn’t have that much nostalgia and by the time I was done with my engagement I was really quite happy to get out of the fray and head back out to the ocean.

I could actually feel it in my body when I crested the hill that starts the downward roll to the sea and I could see the ocean and it just soothed me and I felt calm and nurtured and happy to be heading home and not have a lot of responsibility to the day.

I met with a new lady I just started working with and we did some reading and talked, a lot, there was lots of talking and it was good.

It is so good to be able to pass on what I have been given so freely and for it to be accepted so open armed.

I just felt blessed and grateful and by the time she had left I was ready to do the first round of food prep.

I made a shredded chicken hash with Andouille sausage, corn, carmelized onions, and crimini mushrooms.

Instead of potatoes I used brown rice.

No peppers though, peppers give me indigestion.

Which always bums me out.

I have super fond memories of my mom’s stuffed bell peppers from when I was a kid and I crave them once in a while, but all peppers, especially the green ones, tend to give me acid indigestion.

Anyway, so I cooked and had a nice lunch.

And.

Well.

It’s my fathers birthday today and I decided to call him.

Except that the call didn’t go through and the phone isn’t set up to receive voicemail and I took that as a sign, it wasn’t time to talk to my father.

But I could wish him a happy birthday from my heart and remember the last time I saw him and how his skin felt so warm against my lips when I kissed his cheek goodbye.

I hope you’re well papa.

Always, I hope this for you.

I settled my heart and decided to get out of the house and do a little self-care and get a manicure.

I had already done a great big cleaning, sweeping, vacuuming and dusting as well as laundry and putting my kitchen back together once I knew for certain the paint had dried on the cupboards, so I wasn’t slacking in the doing things department.

But.

I figure I’m going to either need to take good nail care maintenance for myself or get a manicure once a week rather than the every other I have been doing.

I want to show up well-groomed for my clients.

I want to be a demonstration of good self-care.

So.

I went up to the Inner Sunset and got the nails did and then I scooted over to Noriega Produce on Noriega and 46th and picked up a few last-minute groceries to have at the house.

And then back home to unpack, fold laundry, and figure out if I was going to the restorative yoga class or not.

I decided to go.

And.

It was so good.

So stretchy and relaxing and I just felt held and coddled and like I was taking super good care of my body and I could feel where I had worked my muscles this past week with all the yoga I had done.

I wish I could go more often, but I’m always down to take advantage of the studio when I can get into a class.

Next week I’ll probably only be able to go on Saturday and Sunday.

Maybe only Sunday.

So getting it in this week was good for me.

It was also super dreamy.

I was in deep revery the majority of the time.

I felt wrapped up in golden sunshine and I went to the meadow.

There is a place, I don’t know how or where it comes from, but I get the image off and on when I am in a certain kind of open body space in yoga class.

I remember the first time I had it and it was with a specific teacher and it happened during a certain time in class and it was accompanied by a bit of music that I never did find out who the artist was, but it was bluesy folk and guitar and achy and melancholic and sweet and reminded me of high mountain meadows and tall grass and long-stemmed wild flowers and I just spun out tonight in the meadow and danced and I was accompanied.

I have never been met there before.

I remember once being in that same space and it was beautiful and I saw myself as myself now holding the hand of a younger woman who held the hand of a younger girl and we walked towards a woman, who was I also, long flowing grey hair and I saw myself.

Girl.

Maid.

Woman.

Crone.

And I was awed by the beauty and the image.

But.

Also sad.

There was no one but I in the meadow and it seemed that I was waiting.

There was a fire to be lit.

Enchantments and witchery and strawberry full moon light and warm night air and yes, bonfires.

Dancing.

And I was met and I saw a long line of faces and stories and I danced and was held and turned and it was extraordinary.

I won’t analyze for you what I saw.

I just had a dream.

On a golden lit early Sunday evening in the Outer Sunset.

I drifted off, buoyant and aglow.

Wrapped in soft butter cream light and warmth.

So much warmth.

As though cocooned in a silk hammock on a summer day nestled into the strong arms of another.

Swaying in the wind.

A swooning melting and then.

Softly the bells chimed pulling back to earth and back to hearth and back home.

To the smell of dinner.

Chicken roasting in the oven and the warm embrace of my clean sweet space.

Happy Sunday.

Sweet dreams.

Good rest.

And.

Godspeed into this hazy night of dreams and revery.

How Did I Do All That?

April 17, 2017

I mean.

I am not really sure, but man, it flowed, lovely and smooth from one experience to the next.

Until now.

Sitting here at my table doing my little evening routine, listening to some old school-house music, Tortured Soul, in my bunny slippers, it is Easter after all, with my belly full of warm homemade soup, I am rather astounded.

I am.

I got a lot done.

There is still so much more to do, I have so much paper writing yet to attack, but I know how I am going to handle two of my papers, which is a relief, sometimes just knowing what I am going to write about makes the process so much less stressful.

It’s still anxiety making.

I mean.

I have three papers due.

Yet.

I took a huge leap forward today.

It started slow and it started with not wanting to get out of my bed when the alarm went off, but I knew that danger, and I knew I wanted to go to the earlier yoga class this morning, I had to be up in the Castro to do some homework by a certain point and going to a later class wouldn’t have worked.

And.

I just knew I needed up and out.

The class was hard, but really good and I’m grateful I went.

I had a lovely breakfast here at the house (organic oatmeal with banana, cinnamon, nutmeg, raw cocoa, sea salt, and blueberries; a soft-boiled egg,  and an amazing toasted coconut/almond milk latte) and did some morning page writing.

I checked my syllabus, packed my books, got my notebook, my class folder, and put on some makeup, pulled my hair up in a bun, hopped into my rain boots and headed to the MUNI.

I caught the N-Judah to the J-Church.

I read the entire time.

I finished two chapters in my Trauma reading.

As well as getting into a third on my ride back from the Castro.

I got off the train at the Castro Street Station and marveled with glee at the little rainbow lights lining the escalator.

How I do love you San Francisco.

I do so much.

I strolled through the main drag with my umbrella and my rain boots and smiled at all the fellas in their Easter finery.

I ran a couple of errands then went up to Firewood Cafe.

I met with my person and another friend for lunch then we adjourned to another friends apartment up on Noe and 19th.

God.

Rent control.

How I envy folks who have it.

The apartment is a huge one bedroom with front room, dining room, big bathroom, hard woods, fireplace, huge kitchen.

I was definitely having some apartment envy.

It was the perfect place though, the big couch in the front room, the table, the chair I put in front of the couch.

We all got settled and I started the recording on my phone.

And this time I got it!

I got a half hour session of a Couples Therapy dyad.

“You’re good!” They both exclaimed after we finished the session.

Thank you guys!

It felt really good.

I had a few moments when I was unsure which way to go or what to say, but I didn’t think to hard about it and I noticed my counter transference and actually noted to myself in the session, “hey!  That’s countertransference! Remember that!”

Of course, now, in this moment, I have no solid clue what it was or what it was in regards too, but I knew I had it and I used it in the session and I know that when I go back and listen to the recording again I’ll be able to hear it in the recording.

So happy I got that out-of-the-way.

And while I was on the train riding to the Castro to meet with my friends who were going to help with the project, I had an idea about what to write for my Trauma paper.

Very happy about that.

Part of my “stress” if you want to call it that, is that I need to listen to things again before I write the paper, I can’t just pick up a book or a class reader or an article or my notebook and get the information there.

I have to take an extra step for each paper and listen to a recording, break down what is happening in the recording and use it for the papers.

It is a lot more work than a normal paper for me.

That being said, I feel so much more competent about what I will be writing about and I feel a lot better about the state of my papers.

No.

I did not do any paper writing today.

Although I did write a lot.

I thought about it, but I also didn’t want to stress myself out about it.

If I got to it, great, but that I did so much footwork for the material that will go into the writing, for two different papers, is huge.

I actually accomplished a lot.

Plus.

I got to see two wonderful men in my life who mean so much to me and have a nice Sunday lunch and walk underneath the cherry trees in the Castro and be seen and be helped.

It was truly lovely.

I hopped back on the train and was heading back to the house and my smart feet actually hopped up when I hit Church Street Station.

It was ten of four.

Oh!

I could go check out a spot I used to go to way back in the day.

And I did.

And it was good.

I got to see some folks I haven’t seen in a long time and get grounded and then hop back on the train and come home.

Home.

Home to cook my soup.

I made homemade hot and sour soup today.

I took a large Mason jar of my chicken stock (made from last weeks roasting chicken), 1 bag of large wild caught shrimp, a container of organic tofu that was cubed, a small box of Hen of the Wood mushrooms, a small box of crimini mushrooms and tossed them in my soup pot.

I added a good heavy splash or five of Bragg’s Amino Acids, instead of soy sauce, loads of fresh ground white pepper, some rice vinegar, ground ginger, garlic and sliced in a fat organic carrot and some chopped Swiss Chard (I would have used bok choy, but the store was out and the chard actually worked really well).

I put it on the stove, set it to simmer and then realized it was going to be at least an hour before it was ready.

I could do more reading.

Or.

I could sneak in another yoga class.

Yoga won.

I slipped into the studio three minutes before it started.

It was not Vinyasa yoga, like I did this morning, but restorative.

I could not have done another Vinyasa class.

But restorative, lots of slow, soft, warm stretching, yes ma’am.

It was perfect.

I got back, tasted the soup, oooh, added a little more white ground pepper, lit some candles, put on my bunny slippers and had myself an amazing dinner.

The soup was so good.

Umami bomb.

I am astounded and I have a new favorite.

I am very happy how my Sunday went.

Not upset that I didn’t get the writing done I was thinking I might, but I got the things done that I needed to do and I did exquisite self-care.

Happy day.

I saw friends, chosen family, ate delicious food, did yoga, not once, but twice! Made tons of progress on my homework and walked underneath blooming cherry trees in one of the prettiest cities in the world.

Where I live does not suck.

Nope.

I am the luckiest girl.

I really am.

And now I’m ready for Monday.

Night all.

xoxoxoxo

 

 

Wanted Woman

April 5, 2017

I got a text today after coming out of my second therapy session, went great, thanks, in regards to some services that someone wanted.

Specifically.

My former employer wanted to know if I could be available to cook for them every few Sundays.

Um.

Uh.

No.

Then my head was like, but it would be great to see the boys and I could make some extra money, and…

Fuck off head.

You are not working on your day off.

NO.

NOPE.

Not going to do it, there really is nothing that I could ask for that would compensate me enough to go into work on a Sunday.

I work 35 hours a week.

Go to graduate school full-time.

Meet with three people on a weekly basis for doing the deal.

Go to do the deal 6-7 times a week.

Plus.

In May I’ll star an internship that will be an additional 15 hours.

May is next month.

The last thing I want to do is spoil the few remaining Sundays I do have off.

And when my internship starts, I will only have Sundays off.

For a year.

One day off a week.

That’s it.

I’m not going to go to my former bosses house and make food.

Not going to do it.

Just saying.

Although, truth be told, I was hella flattered.

It’s nice to know that you are wanted.

I have actually said no a lot lately.

No to some baby sitting gigs.

Two specifically that come to mind, no to this idea of working on my day off and cooking.

No, thank you for thinking of me, but no.

Funny thing too, is how often I get this, “I know you’re busy, I know this is a long shot, but….”

Yup.

I am busy.

And yes, it is a long shot, and nope, still can’t do it.

I have also been asked by three different people to read their writing.

I know I write a blog every day and I write morning pages and I want to be able to read every thing that is sent to me, because that’s what good writers do, they also read, but I’ve got so much reading for school I haven’t even touched the two pieces that were sent to me an there’s a third heading towards my mailbox.

Maybe I’ll read them next year.

Bwahahahaha.

What I am recognizing though, is that I am sought after for my skills and as such, I’m really flattered, it’s nice to be thought of, it’s nice that people want me to weigh in on their writing.

I believe it means that folks think I might have some skills and something to offer.

I was asked last week about writing a blog and what tips I had.

I gave loads of tips.

But basically it comes down to, just write it.

Sit down.

Do the work.

There is, however, only so much work I can do, and as I am on day 9 in a row of working with out a day off, I might have an idea of how precious my time off is.

I have two days coming up, April 10th and 11th, next Monday and Tuesday.

I have to get through two more days of work and three days of school.

Then.

Freedom.

I couldn’t fathom picking up more work right now.

There was a time when I would have, the allure of the extra money is big, but really, I want to have a full rounded life.

I want to have some fun and I want to have a tiny little bit of social life.

I also want to have rest and I want to be able to do yoga.

I have to keep tabs on myself and my self-care, I can’t show up to work or school or my soon to be happening internship if I’m not taking care of myself.

It’s an ethical issue.

It really is.

So I was proud of myself for saying I was unavailable.

I responded with kindness and acumen.

I was nice, I’m saying.

And that felt good too.

People will ask for what they want, and they’re allowed to ask, but I don’t have to people please and say yes to everything that is offered.

I believe that something better than money will happen for me on my Sunday if I’m not busy literally slaving over a hot stove.

God wants more for me than that.

Dating.

Friends.

Life.

Adventures.

Rest.

Recuperation.

All the things.

Not cooking all the things.

Anyway.

I am looking forward to school this weekend, even though my school days are long days, longer than my work days, they are days filled with thinking and showing up and learning and friends.

I am really excited to see my friends.

I have missed them.

I have some catching up to do.

Yes, I do.

The only thing I get bummed about, who would have thought it, is missing yoga on Saturday and Sunday.

Although I may try to sneak in a restorative yoga class Sunday after I get out of classes.

That is a good possibility.

I’m sad to miss my favorite teachers class on Saturday, but so be it.

As long as I can try to get into a Monday class in the morning, I will be making up for the loss of class on Saturday.

I get a head of myself

Let me stay in this week, where, yes, it is full, but there’s wiggle room here and there.

A coffee with a friend.

Catching up with my fellows tomorrow night.

Wrapping up the last bits and pieces of my school preparations.

Doing a little laundry.

And yes.

Chilling out a bit.

Like right now.

A cup of tea.

A video.

A snack.

And bed.

Sounds just about perfect.

No more cooking today.

No soup for you!

Sexy Got Her Homework On

March 27, 2017

And her yoga on.

But not her sex on.

Well.

Not true.

I took care of business after my second yoga class today.

Yes.

I said that, two yoga classes today.

I have never done that before.

It’s not that big a deal and at the same time, it sort of was.

I went to my normal 9 a.m. Sunday morning class and got a very good sweat on and proceeded to watch my entire day change in the span of a few text messages.

When I got back from my yoga class I got a cancellation then after I got out of my shower and was getting my breakfast ready, my coffee date cancelled.

So.

I sent a lover a message.

And.

Nope.

NO response.

That kind of day.

So.

I got to do extraordinary amounts of self-care.

Which was needed and much cleaning and house hold attending.

And.

Cooking and grocery shopping.

This next few weeks is going to be busy.

I will be working two weeks straight for the family, the dad will be leaving Thursday for a business trip out-of-town so I will be working next Saturday and Sunday.

It’s actually going to be three weeks of work and school before I have another weekend off.

It’s going to be intense.

So I’m grateful I had today all to myself.

I was good company.

I took some extra time this morning for my writing and I made myself the most delicious coconut/almond milk latte and decided to just let the day unfold and not worry about anything.

I knew I also had to get a paper written for my Trauma class, my step-father made it into a paper this go around, and do cooking and food prep.

But I didn’t force myself or stress.

I just took each moment as its own little exquisite experience.

I washed all my bedding and did two loads of laundry, even washed the rugs in the bathroom, and swept, vacuumed, washed, polished, and cleaned my whole house.

It looks so nice.

I also went grocery shopping for two weeks of food.

I will probably have to re-up on fresh fruit, but I have enough coffee, eggs, oatmeal, brown rice, almond milk, organic carrots, frozen blueberries, and prepared food to get me through the weeks to come.

I roasted a chicken today and I made jambalaya.

I froze the majority of it and canned the rest of the chicken soup I had leftover from last week.

I have meals for days and I feel happy to have dealt with it.

I didn’t leave the neighborhood.

Although I did take my scooter to the Safeway on Balboa to get my groceries.

I wasn’t going to take it further, I knew there was going to be one more episode of rain and sure enough, there was, but not before I had run all the errands I needed to do and the next week and a half looks like sunshine.

That is going to be super helpful, I have my first therapy session with my new therapist Tuesday before work and I have an appointment to see my advisor at school Thursday before work.

The before work, work begins.

In actuality, I realize, it began already last week, I have been doing things before work for the last couple of weeks since the last school weekend.

Which reminds me, I need to swing by the post office before work in the morning and pick up a package.

I think work is going to be pretty busy, not just with working next weekend, but also, its Spring Break for the kiddos, which means I won’t have reading time for school work.

I feel like I’m ok though, I have done a lot of the Couple’s Therapy reading already, finished all my Trauma reading and I wrote my Trauma paper today.

I had some push back on it.

I realize I have been having some feelings of, “over it,” move along, I’m tired of this stuff.

It can get exhausting looking at the trauma minefields in my life history and how I got through some seemingly unscathed, but the patterns of the things I did to survive stay with me, little bombs of shrapnel on my psyche that explode without warning and leave me tired on the side of the road picking the stuff out of the pockets of my emotions.

“I feel brutalized,” I was telling my person yesterday at Tart to Tart, that place has seen a lot of my tears, about an incident that happen last week and how I felt and why I was angry.

We did a lot of work around it and I got some very good suggestions and I took them, I’m still taking them, I will keep taking them as the days move forward.

I hadn’t realized how much I was carrying until I said out loud that I felt brutalized and that it reminded me, I later saw, of my step-father and my mom and some stuff that happened to me growing up.

All the things that happened growing up.

Glad I start therapy on Tuesday, Jesus fuck.

Of course, under the lens of my graduate school work, of course, a lot of stuff is going to come up, the pot just keeps getting stirred and things pop to the surface, so when I sat down to write my paper I realized just how much I didn’t want to write it and I let myself start out that way.

And.

Five pages and 1,562 words later.

I was finished.

In fact.

I finished it so fast that I realized I could go to the restorative yoga class tonight at my studio.

Yes, I had already practiced today, but the restorative is really meditative and relaxing and it’s not about getting a work out, it’s about being in your body and supporting different parts of it that don’t typically get support or rest.

It was just so what I needed.

I came home, lit some candles, checked my messages, saw nothing from anyone, and said, well, I’ll just take care of me and took care of me.

I am actually a little surprised that I had so much sexual energy today, I just finished my period yesterday, but as I am getting older I can tell that sometimes it comes out in different ways energetically.

I also had some fodder for fantasy running around my head that I just let myself have.

I could say it was counter transference from the work I did today, which is another entire blog and far to clinical for me to delve into here.

Or.

I could just say.

After getting flowers, a home cooked dinner, and a restorative yoga class I was just in a yummy, dreamy space.

And I let myself go there too.

Yes.

Thank you self-care Sunday.

You rocked.

Ready for the next weeks work.

Bring it on.

Oops

March 13, 2017

I did it again.

And again.

And.

Yes.

Again.

Until I stopped.

It took about twenty minutes and then every once in a while I would do it again.

But.

It got better.

I went to a restorative yoga class tonight.

I did not know anything about restorative yoga, although I have had a friend recommend it to me.

Now I know why.

It took me a minute to get into it and while I was getting myself there I had the intruding thought come into my head about when I was going to do yoga again.

Fuck.

Martines.

Stop it.

I’m doing yoga and planning on when I am going to do yoga again.

My brain is not a good yoga partner.

There’s a part of me that recognizes, despite my resistance, or maybe because of it, to yoga in the first place, that maybe, especially since it’s been recommended to me by the people I do my recovery work with, that maybe it’s good for me.

And as person who enjoys feeling good I can see that I want to feel good more often.

But it’s hard juggling everything and as I walked back in the door to my house I had a sudden shift in perspective.

Hey, how about you give yourself some props.

You went to yoga.

You actually made it in on a day during your school weekend.

This is a first.

I have been doing yoga on and off for about a year now.

I had a three-month hiatus late-summer when I was going through a very rebellious stage of not wanting to do it and I got out of the practice.

But.

I came back to it in November and have been trying to establish a consistent routine.

That being said, I have never managed to get in a yoga class on the weekend that I am in school, it’s too busy, I’m at school for 29 hours over the three-day weekend and most of the time I just want to sleep if I’m not in class.

So, yeah.

Be happy that I went.

It was good.

Different.

Much slower.

I never broke a sweat.

But I did stretch and I did meditate and I did relax.

In fact.

Twice I nearly fell asleep.

It also felt sweet, spacious and generous to myself, to show up to Yoga Beach, my studio right down the block at 46th and Irving, and take an hour and fifteen minutes just for me.

Not for my job or my school or for family, not for anyone else but me.

I just went to the site to pull it up and whilst looking for a nice photo to connect y’all with and I came across one of me in class!

Heh.

Of course I bet I’m the only person who would know that was me.

I recognized my hand.

There is a certain way I often find myself holding my hand which comes from the years I spent training kung fu.

I also recognized my tattoos.

That feels nice, having connected to the studio enough that there’s a shot of me in a class.

I like that I have met some new people and I like that I am finding myself breathing better, better able to regulate my stretching and sleeping better.

When I go.

And I haven’t been going as often as I’d like.

But.

Yeah.

Fucking big props for getting myself there today.

Especially with one hour less of sleep at the end of a long weekend of classes.

And.

I got through the midterm weekend, got all my stuff handed in, showed up, participated and got the next set of actions for what I need to do to mover forward in my internship.

I’ll be meeting with my supervisor after work on Tuesday at 6:30p.m.

I’m going to interview him for a project I’m doing for my Community Mental Health class and get all the paperwork signed and filled out for the practicum.

I am also going to ask him to recommend a supervisor and I may also ask him for personal therapy recommendations.

I thought briefly of going back to my old therapist, but there were some things that she did that didn’t always sit right with me and though I gained a lot from the time I was working with her I feel like I would be better served with a new outlook and experience with a therapist.

Lots of stuff to do.

Monday tomorrow, back to work.

Meeting with some people, three, this week to do the deal, getting to my regular spots and getting re-connected, I always feel a little off as I don’t do the recovery work as much during the school weekend either, a 11 hour day in school is challenging to do and to then add in other things, I have found little success doing that.

I haven’t had a full nights sleep in four days.

And there is so much to do already.

So.

Pausing.

Breathing.

Soft, slow stretching.

Yeah.

I think that’s a win for my personal self-care.

The studio is not going anywhere, I remind myself and though I may not be able to get back until next Saturday, which will be my first day off in two weeks as per regular when I am in school, I am ok with that.

I went today.

All I have is today.

I am perfect how I am.

Flawed.

Imperfect.

Lovable.

And.

Enough.

 

 

 

The Irony

March 6, 2017

It’s a lonely job.

But somebody’s got to do it.

I find it funny, actually.

Sitting by myself on a Sunday afternoon with a movie about dysfunction in a relationship, Blue Valentine with Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams, and then writing my mid-term paper on how I would, as the couple’s therapist, help them in the first session.

Yeah.

Like that.

The lonely grad school girl figures out how to make a marriage stick together.

The irony is not lost on me.

No.

Not at all.

As I sit at my lonely girl desk, in my little studio by the sea, my light up globe, a gift from a former love, a Mason jar full of flowers I bought for myself, in my single girl get up–yoga pants and sweatshirt, my hair up in a messy bun, no make up on.

How the fuck am I suppose to help somebody stay in a relationship?

I haven’t one.

Except.

Yes.

I do.

I have an amazing relationship with myself and I feel that most relationships fail or struggle because one person is looking for the other person to be there all, the everything, the one who fixes it, the one who makes it better.

Nobody can do that, fyi, in case you were wondering.

No one can fix another, or complete another.

We complete ourselves.

I can tell myself that I need someone.

But the truth is, I just need me.

I have faith in myself.

So.

By doing the paper and sitting here alone, ultimately, by doing this self-care, I will be in relationship to others because I can be a friend to myself, a lover to myself, a provider to myself.

I can get up in the morning and go to yoga.

Check.

Did that.

I even forgot to get pissed off at the yoga instructor, although my brain did give it the old college try, by the end of ten minutes I was so in my breath and body I forgot to be mad.

Gentle love.

I made myself a wonderful hot breakfast afterward and decided to stay in my yoga clothes.

One.

They are hella comfortable.

Two.

I had designs on a second yoga class today.

There is a restorative yoga class on Sunday evenings at the studio.

It was going to be my “reward” if I got done with my paper.

I did not get done with my paper on time.

But.

Yes!

I did finish my paper.

I turned in my 2,169 word, eight page paper, “We Always Hurt The One We Love,” to my Couples Therapy teacher about an hour ago.

Then I pulled out the roasted chicken that was cooking in the oven while I was writing and had myself a lovely, yes, hahaha, candle lit dinner, and listened to a little Ray La Montagne while I did so.

You are the best thing that ever happened to me.

Baby.

It’s been a long day.

I get to be that person to myself, I get to be the best thing that has ever happened to me.

I get to be the one for me.

I know myself so much better.

Baby, you’ve come a long way.

You damn straight better believe it.

Baby, this love will never fade away.

That too.

Yes.

I have known romantic love before and I will know romantic love again, but I wouldn’t if I wasn’t taking the best care of myself that I can.

It’s been a long journey and sometimes I can forget that I am the best thing, the best girl, the bright heart, that I can cultivate inside me the best relationship ever.

To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.

Thanks, Mister Oscar Wilde.

How true.

I can’t expect someone to do that kind of work.

And oh.

I will do the work, I am worth it.

And in that worthiness, I suspect, I will be found, when time, God’s time, not mine, is right.

No worries until that point.

And no, not concerned about the irony of the single lady writing a comprehensive paper on couples therapy.

I know how it feels to be all alone.

I know how it feels to be all alone in a relationship with another person.

Today.

I am not lonely.

I may be alone, but I am not lonely.

I am loved.

I am known.

I know myself.

I am happy.

Not always, but more often than not.

I cook for myself, clean for myself, make the bed for myself, I wear pretty clothes for myself and do my hair.

Usually.

Ok.

Today I also just let me be in my yoga togs all day.

I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the second class when I hit page five of the paper, but I also knew I was going to get the mid-term done and have a god damn nice home cooked meal when it was finished.

And I did.

There’s something outrageous about how long it has taken me to get here.

Then again.

Thank fucking God I did get here.

Considering how stacked the deck was against me, well, I beat the house odds, came out the other side, and walked out into sunshine.

Sometimes things are still too bright for me to see, but as I get used to being in the sunlight of the spirit I get to see more and more and my life seems to open further and wider.

An ever-widening circle of love and joy.

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

Look at all the wonderful things I get to see when I sit by myself and do the work.

So that one day.

I won’t be sitting by myself with another.

Lonelier than when I was alone.

Love.

Love.

Always.

This.

Love.

 

 

 


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