...And Then Yoga Made Me Weep

I need to write about what happened tonight in yoga. This may or may not be relevant to others, but I suspect at least a couple of people will be able to relate. And I need a space to process it, I suppose.

So I started up with yoga back in high school. I did very basic, beginning yoga in my bedroom, jammed into the tiny space between my bed, my desk, and whatever messy chaos of clothes and school books was strewn around the space. In college, I sporadically practiced at home, following videos and online snippets. Eventually I found some local studios and braved going to classes. I've talked before about my anxiety in new situations, especially unfamiliar social situations. Though I felt horribly awkward, I pushed through the anxiety and took classes when I could. Later on down the road, in grad school, I discovered a beautiful little studio near home filled with some incredibly kind and encouraging teachers. I took up a regular practice through school and after I started my career, and even at one point started taking yoga teacher training....until my significant other lost his job and it was on me to try to support us. A beginning social worker salary is miniscule. It barely supports one human, let alone two, and leaves no room for extra spending. So teacher training was sacrificed to the low-salary gods, and I went back to a daily home practice. After I split with my ex-husband, yoga helped me get through the not-so-fun of a divorce. Until I discovered lifting. Yoga then took a back seat and became an occasional side practice. 

Why yoga? Well. It looks cool. And makes for great Instagram pictures. Kidding! I started yoga pre-social media. As a type A, perfectionistic, highly anxious human, I need something to ground myself. I need something to slow myself down. It's probably what simultaneously drew me to studying Buddhism as a teenager. It's amazing what slowing down, focusing, accepting what I cannot control, practicing non attachment, and being in the moment does for my high speed brain. Yoga - and by extension meditation - brings me to the moment. The focus is on breath and movement, on linking these two. A student of yoga learns (sometimes the hard way) to let go of the results each practice...maybe one day I move easily into poses of increasing difficulty, while others I struggle just to feel easy in the basic movements. 

On to the present day. I'm going to try to describe this accurately. As much as one can. After talking about going to yoga with a friend, she offered up going to a class together sometime at a studio near here. We went earlier this week to a Slow Burn class - basically a slower paced class that involves holding the poses for a prolonged time. Sounds easy, right? It's not. It's a great challenge. It was a great class. So when looking at my options for this evening, I decided to go back to yoga and try out a Blend class. These start out more like slow burn....and then move into a more traditional vinyasa (a flow - connecting together sequences of poses at the pace of your breath) style. It was with a teacher we hadn't had earlier in the week. Jen opted in and we met up at class. 

It was a normal Friday at work, which meant all the crises and chaos hit from 4pm on. Even after I left work, I was still getting texts and phone calls. This meant I came into class wound awfully tight. I wasn't sure I'd be able to let go of work. But the teacher was great, and I soon was able to relax and breathe. As we moved into the faster flow portion, I experienced something that I haven't always been able to do during practice. I completely plugged in to what was happening and focused solely on the movement. I had a moment where I started to think ahead, to get anxious that I'd forget the sequence. But I shook it off and decided to trust myself to just keep going through the pattern. And I did. I breathed. I moved. I poured sweat. Buckets and buckets of sweat. At one point, the teacher told us to not stop our flow to wipe our faces, to "let the sweat leave your body"......as if I had a choice. And then, after a few passes through the sequence, I got into and held a pose I never have before. On both sides (I'm horribly lopsided and often have one side less mobile than the other). I smiled. And stayed focused on the flow. Toward the end, he encouraged us to move into headstand. If you've ever seen my IG, you know this is one of my favorite poses. I cannot do a handstand (poor mobility in my shoulders and distrust in my own balance). But I can headstand all dang day. So I did. And then we twisted. And then settled into savasana (the final pose is laying flat out on your back and totally letting go). The poses and the flow were exciting. But here's the part that really stamped this as an amazing class.

As I lay with my eyes closed, letting any bits of tension leave my now very warm muscles...I felt it. The dreaded lip tremble. And then a few fat alligator tears slid out from under my eyelids and straight down into my ears. Good thing I was still streaming sweat, it all blended in. But I didn't feel sad. Or happy. I just felt....content. Relieved. The practice allowed me to finally let go of all the tension stored up tight deep in my joints and muscles after a stressful week at work. Sometimes a good practice will pull up emotional stuff. I used to get embarrassed about it. Now I just accept it. The profound relief and gratitude for such contentment was indescribable. We finished class, I stared at the ceiling for a minute or two. When the teacher walked by, I wanted to tell him what a wonderful class it was, how glad I was that I had come, how much I appreciated his skill at leading such an intense class. Instead, all I could do was make eye contact, smile, and choke out a "thank you". He smiled and touched my shoulder for a second, saying thank you in return as he walked by. And I let it be. I knew there was no way I could discuss the class without unleashing more emotion. I didn't even know why, exactly. Yoga is weird like that. It pulls out things you didn't even know were hiding.

Sometimes I take for granted how stressful my day-to-day can be. I work in a stressful environment. And just like the hundreds...thousands...of others who work in acute care, I've normalized it. Eventually you either acclimate or burn out. But this sets your normal gauge at a higher resting point than many other people. Ask any crisis worker, mental health tech, EMT, or pretty much any nurse in a hospital setting; they will likely agree that their "normal day" and the conversations had during that day would be wildly out of whack to most other humans thrown into that situation. Amazing what we adapt to. Humans are amazing. But thankfully.....we have things that help us to de-stress: lifting, yoga, rock climbing, skydiving, hiking......Oh. Is that just my list? ;)

Anyway. I don't know the exact point here. Maybe to encourage everyone to find their self-care. Do things that make you feel good. Take care of yourself. Always. Maybe to let people know that we all struggle with new things, returning to things, continuing to grow in things. Maybe to say hey, emotions happen. Allow them. Own them. Let them pass. And enjoy the ride, human. 

The Adventures of Nature Girl.....or, Basic Suburban Folk Go Camping

All summer long, a couple of friends and I have talked about going camping. We've been itching to get outside. And this past weekend, we finally scratched the itch.

Of course, after setting aside this weekend and planning much of the summer for it, the forecast turned to shit the week before. We discussed the rain several times, never wavering in our plan. Friday, two of us had to work before we could head on out and meet up at the campground. We had found a good middle point that was about equidistant for all of us - me from Auburn Hills and them from Grand Rapids. Friday, the reality of the impending storms hit and the question was thrown out as to whether we should wait and head out tomorrow. No, dammit. We are going. Rain isn't going to stop us. And so....we went.

Though I drove through bands of pouring rain on the way out, the campground was dry when we arrived. We hurried to set up the tent before the rain reached us, not knowing how much we might possibly get at once. With minimal issue, we got the tent up.....I only managed to bend up one tent stake, due to my Hulk-like rage at not being able to push the stake through some buried rock underground.  Whoops. It was dead still and about 9384023% humidity. We were soaked in sweat by the time we were done. But there it stood.

Well, without the fire initially. But by the evening it looked awesome!

Of course, by the time we were ready to make a fire.....it had been drizzling on and off and all the wood in the area was damp. Even the bundles of firewood were damp from the humidity, despite being covered. Thankfully, we had kind neighbors who took pity on us (after Brogan crashed their campsite and asked real nice-like) and threw a little lighter fluid on our fire to get it going. From that point, I was able to prod the fire to life so that we could make some dinner!

Behold!! I give you fire!

We enjoyed a drink by the fire before finally turning in. Jessie and I ended up chatting and shooting the shit for a while in the dark, unable to settle in and snooze through the humidity as easily as Brogan. Finally, we drifted out. Overnight, we got hit with a solid thunderstorm. There's something about waking up to thunder and pouring rain.....and being perfectly dry. Our tent held up well. A bit of water worked its way in at the far corners, but it could be managed with a single towel and no one floated away. Turns out, our neighbors on the other side were not so lucky. Their tents flooded out, and they spent the rest of the weekend with blankets, pillows, and other belongings draped over their cars trying to dry. 

All this rain made for stifling humidity in the morning. Despite a couple of attempts at dozing off (after Jessie the rooster woke up BEFORE 7 AM), we finally gave in and got up. Jess ran into town to get a couple of necessities we had forgotten, and came back with coffee. She really wanted to make some eggs over the fire, so I attempted to revive the fire. It got going, but not hot enough to keep the cast iron skillet hot or to get the coffee percolating. Jessie got grumpy face, and it was clear we were not going anywhere until there was more food. And so, I decided we were gonna have a hot-ass fire, come hell or high water.  And so:

Look at that smug mf-er in the background

Fueled up and caffeinated, we got ourselves packed up and ready to hike. Sleepy Hollow has a continuous hiking trail that loops the lake, intersecting on one side with some multi-use and horse trails. At that point, it was 85 degrees and 95% humidity. We figured we would get around the lake and then see how we felt. The paths criss-crossing on the west side would let us adjust mileage accordingly. The loop started off in the woods....and it was beautiful.

So much green. Green everywhere.

We saw some wildlife. Unfortunately, that included a wee mouse that appeared to have been hit by a mountain bike. Little buddy was taking his last sad little breaths. And my squishy lil heart couldn't bear leaving him in the middle of the path. That's no place to die. And there's no dignity in being stepped on or hit again. Yes, I know. Nature is harsh. And unforgiving. And I realize that, regardless, he was going to die. But that's just how I roll. Ask Jessie.  Our last hike together, we came across a chipmunk that had been hit and killed (hopefully instantly, not sure) by a mountain bike just before we got there. I moved it off the path and under some leaves. There's my wildly overactive empath-self at work. And so, wee mouse needed to at least be moved. So I picked him up in some leaves and moved him to under a tree. I covered in him a couple of leaves and tried not to cry. Because: soft and squishy. For Pete's sake, I'm tearing up just writing this. Fortunately, after that, we came across lots of (very alive) little frogs. And a bigger mouse running through the plants. And then some bigger frogs. And I was pleased.

The humidity was killer. Under the trees, we were granted shade. But not a lick of breeze. And after 6 miles, we parked it on the trail to rest and snack a little. Refreshed, we carried on. Until we came to a fork in the path, which appeared to drop off a damn cliff and then immediately climb vertically up the next hill. I was not impressed.

What fresh hell is this.

Finally, we cut across to the multi-use trail. It was wide open. And we finally had a breeze!! But now the trade off....the sun felt like it was riding directly on the top of my daypack. Holy hell.  But we were treated to a beautiful view of the lake.

Hello, beautiful

I'm gonna take a second right here to thank Jessie and Brogan for sharing their gorgeous pictures from this whole weekend. All of these were taken by them. I refused to take my phone out of my daypack, as I attempted to disconnect and be absorbed in the moment. That has its pros and cons. Obviously, I have vivid memories of the hike. I got to be completely in the moment and think only of the walking and the scenery and all of the sensory bits to be taken in. The downside is that I had little photographic evidence from the weekend to share later. And this post would just be a bunch of words and no pretty pictures to show you all. So thank you, friends, for your photographic skills. Some day maybe I'll be able to balance both of these things. 

We cut around the lake and back to the campground, ending the hike just around 9 miles. We could've easily added a few more miles on the north end, but I think we all needed to sit and cool down. Let's be honest....as much as I loved the hike....taking off hiking shoes and socks was probably one of the greatest feelings ever.

That'll do pig.

Once cooled off and mellowed out, it was time to make dinner. Brogan had prepped some chicken and veggies for skewers, and I had some veggie burgers (for my less-meat habit lately). I got that fire goin' - I had proudly dubbed myself the Fire Master. I'm really sure my firefighter father would be extra stoked to hear how much I enjoyed breathing life into hot embers to make flames ignite the fresh wood. Sorry, Padre. 

I got me a pokin' stick. Burn, baby, burn!

So many pretty colors. So tasty.

The night gave way to cooler, more comfortable temps. We attempted to check out the meteor showers, but it was still too early - we needed the moon to set so it stopped interfering - and we got booted out of the open area near the beach because it was "closed". Of course, that was after Jessie gave the ranger a talking to for illuminating us to a bunch of drunk teen boys. It was quite entertaining. But also a sobering reminder of having to be on guard walking the trails at night as women.....and not because of potential furry four-legged creatures in the woods. 

We mellowed out by the fire and enjoyed some beverages. I couldn't have been more content if I had tried. When we finally climbed into the tent, I was out like a light. The night stayed cool and dry, and we had a good breeze through the tent. Perfect sleeping weather. We slept in a bit the next morning. Once up, we took our time getting moving, making a last pot of coffee over the fire and hanging out at the campsite. 

Really, truly, one of the best parts of camping

Brogan gets all artistic over coffee <3

It was bittersweet to break down camp and pack away everything in the cars. It was such a wonderful weekend. My soul was happy. Being out in nature, away from everything, disconnected from the world.....it's so necessary. We spent the weekend talking about our next camping adventure, planning to work toward some backpacking and camping up north. By next summer, I want to be able to do some real backcountry exploring. Because there's nothing like pooping in a hole to bring you closer to nature. No, seriously, I do want to be able to be pretty self-sufficient and do some multi-day trips out into the woods. And who better to adventure with than these awesome women??

I look like I photobombed the shit outta these two.

Back to work this week, my brain is still outdoors. Ive been looking up places to go hike. I've saved several locations to my "to-do" list. And I've started doing a little research into some of the gear and tidbits I need to learn/know to do this all successfully. I cannot wait to get back outside again. I'm eager to take advantage of every bit of outdoor time before snow hits.

Now I'm off for more Brutus snuggles. We are mellowing out on the couch with The Office on in the background, while I read books about travel and adventure. Sometimes it's nice just to live a little vicariously, eh? I had planned to go get a couple of jumps in this coming weekend, but it looks like the weather is going to thwart that plan. Keeping my fingers crossed that they're wrong and Saturday morning ends up being clear. Otherwise, I'll bump that back a week. It's not a bad consolation to spend the morning drinking coffee and hanging out instead. 

Here's to a good end of the week. Let's hope that full moon treats us all well.

In Which I Jump Out Of A Plane. Again. But Better.

This weekend, I almost let the comfort zone win.

I've been waiting for the right day to go do my AFF (accelerated free fall) jump, since I took skydiving ground school three weeks ago. That weekend, the weather sucked and I didn't get out there in the tiny window of decent weather they had. The next two weekends were busy, with travel and hosting the strongwoman competition. I only have 30 days to get my jump in, so this weekend was The Time.

Saturday morning, my alarm went off, and I laid in bed staring at the ceiling for a while. Did I really want to go do this? Hmmm...well, yes. I did. But was I sure? What if I messed up something and looked stupid in front of all the other people at the drop zone? You see, this is how anxiety works. It gets hung up on trivial shit, then beats that dead horse with another dead horse until a new "scary" thing comes along. I wasn't worried about the parachute not deploying. I wasn't even worried about potentially have to cut-away and pull the reserve if I had to. A little nervous about that, sure, but I had a good instructor and felt like I could go through the proper steps if I needed to. Instead, my anxiety latched on to two things: What if I can't find the drop zone once I deploy? And what if I land like a rock in front of everyone? Really.  Of all the things...these are what my mind fixates on.

Finally, I thought "Just get your ass out of bed and get in the car". I told myself that I would go out there, and if the weather was good and everything was a go, I was going to face my anxiety and do the damn thing. Besides, I already paid for it. Good thing I have an inner cheap-ass, because that's what finally got me moving.

The drive to the airport is long from here. Plenty of highway, then rural roads and farm land. By the time I got there, my weird nerves had my stomach fluttering. But when I got there and checked in, the girl at the desk recognized me from when we came to tandem jump. I told her I was there to do my first AFF and she cheered. Then she showed me where the sport jumpers hang out and prep to jump, on the back side of the hangar. I got to hang out around the cool kids....people who actually know what the hell they're doing, aside from the basics taught in class. I sat and listened to lots of stories; people were talking about jumps they watched online, with all kinds of crazy stunts, as well as upcoming gatherings and trips. Everyone was super friendly, saying hi and introducing themselves. Whenever someone asked what jump I was on and I told them my first AFF, they got all pumped. It reminded me a lot of the strongman crowd....everyone is laid back and friendly and glad you're there to do the crazy shit with them.

Because I had gotten there later in the morning, and it was a beautiful day, I waited for over an hour to jump. But it didn't feel like a long hour waiting, because I met my instructor and walked through everything. I learned how to check my gear. We ran through the sequence several times, and I got a refresher on all the hand signals used while free falling to help a student adjust their body for the optimum positioning. We talked out the landing pattern and did some trouble shooting for if I wasn't exactly where I wanted to be at certain heights. Steve reassured me that he'd be on the one-way radio I'd have only helmet, walking me in. I felt like I could get the basics and land myself if the radio failed, but definitely hoped the damn thing worked when the time came Then we sat at the picnic table and shot the shit with a couple other guys to pass the time. I met my second instructor just before we got all geared up to go, and he was just as cool. I zipped myself into a jumpsuit (which feels slightly like a sauna suit in the summer sun) and Steve helped me get into my rig. Fortunately, I'm used to awkward leg harnesses and whatnot from climbing, so it wasn't too foreign straightening everything out and tightening up all the bits and pieces. Turns out, a rig is actually quite heavy. And stiff. I'm not sure what the hell I thought it would feel like, but I was a little surprised.

Finally, it was our turn to go. At that point, the fluttering had settled to a dull roar and I was as ready as I was getting. Once we were on the plane, I felt oddly calm. It was a done deal as far as my head was concerned, so what was the use in feeling super anxious? May as well breathe and focus. And enjoy the damn thing. There were a handful of solo jumpers on the plane with us. A few of them went first. Then it was our turn:

They signaled for me to pull at 9k feet, rather than the 5,500 you're taught as a "standard" for students, because the wind was pushing us further away from the airport and they wanted me to have time to get where I needed to be. Of course, at the time, I had no idea of any of that. All I knew was that I looked at my altimeter (the gauge you can see on my left hand) at 9k, then saw the "pull" signal. Steve had reminded me prior that if I see that signal at any time, once it processes, pull. Don't question it, don't ignore it, don't debate it. Just pull. So I did. I'm glad to see all the repeated training and running through the signals sunk into my brain. As soon as my brain realized that was a single finger in front of my face, I tossed the pilot chute. In the video, you can see my 3 practice touches. Steve puts my hand on the handle the first two times, because I was having trouble finding it. On the third touch, I got it straight on. And that stuck in my head, apparently, because I pulled that sucker with no hesitation and no missing or fumbling it. 

Once my parachute deployed, I was relieved to look and up and see that it looked exactly how it should. I ran through the test steps, and it flew just fine. Then I looked around. Where the fuck was the airport?? Not below me....nowhere I could see in front of me.....I did a nice gentle turn and OH! there it was behind me. Thankfully, I had been cued to look for the giant white tanks across the road from it, and they were definitely the most prominent thing my eyes landed on. Then I looked at my altimeter. Why had we pulled so early? Of course, the anxious part of my brain assumed it was because I was doing something awful and they had just pulled the plug on the whole freefall. Mentally kicking myself, I then realized I only had a couple thousand feet before I was where I needed to be to start my landing pattern.....and I didn't seem to be close enough. I aimed myself a little straighter, then played around a little with the toggles, pulling to a near stop and hanging there a few times to get a feel for it. I tootled to the left, and to the right, then straightened out again. And then, miraculously, I heard Steve's voice on my walkie. He told me to flare (pulling both toggles down to make the parachute slow down) if I could hear him. I did. "Good!! You're looking good! Keep coming this way". Whew. Okay. Looks like I wouldn't have to land in a field after all!! 

Steve talked me in and I executed the turns. Coming in close the ground, a few small puffs of wind kept pulling me to the right. Another jumper was gathering his parachute and turned in time to get out of my way. Steve's voice called "Flare! Flare" and I did and I landed. You're taught to land like a wet noodle, a sort of semi-controlled roll to absorb what impact there is until you're skilled enough to slow at just the right moment to land on your feet - otherwise you risk breaking something. I was less "wet noodle" and more "potato". But that's okay. I was a safe potato who did it all on her own! I laughed and Steve came over. He immediately reassured me that I had done nothing wrong - before I could even ask - and explained the wind thing to me. He said I had done well, and had followed everything like I should. He showed me how to gather my parachute and we walked back to the hangar, processing my perspective of the jump. 

We met up at the picnic table and rehashed the jump. I hadn't realized he had the camera on until he said he had video. We watched it and critiqued it. I am but a wee new baby in the land of skydiving. And I have plenty of room to learn and grow. But I was darn proud of myself and Steve gave me a good critique. I need to remember that I have legs and position them better, for sure. And I need to refine my landing as I come down the last 300 ft and land like a potato, for starters.  I am definitely looking forward to doing more jumps and really dialing in the muscle memory and learning to read some of the subtle factors. I'm simultaneously nervous and excited to go again. I plan to get a couple of jumps in the next time I go out. I almost stayed for another jump, but realized that I was starving and not prepared to be there for another couple of hours. So I said goodbye to everyone and told them I'll see them in a couple weeks. "Why not next week?!"..... Oh, yep, this is how the addiction grows. 

Truth be told, if I weren't going camping, I'd be planning to haul my happy ass back out there. 

And so. That was a really long, drawn out way to talk about not letting anxiety get the best of you. It can be scary to be outside of your comfort zone. But I'm learning to assess that and push myself just slightly outside of it.....to push right through those butterflies and take a deep breath and just trust myself to do the thing. I worry about what I'll do...then I worry about what would happen if I did't do it...then I worry again about doing it....

And once it's done, I never regret it. In fact, I'm often pumped to go back for more.

So there's your challenge for this week/weekend. Find something just outside of your comfort zone. It doesn't have to be skydiving (but if it is, I support it!!). Go to a new place. Try out a yoga class. Take yourself out to eat solo sans cell phone. Venture into the unknown. Don't let yourself get in the way. If you find yourself saying "Well, I'd like to, but I don't know if I can...." then say "Self, knock it off. You can do it. In fact, it's practically already done! Bee believes in you". And then tell me all about your non-comfort zone adventure. If it's new for you, it's a big deal, and I want all the details!

I can't wait to hear about everyone's adventures!