Confessions of a Yoga Junkie

Source: Pexels/Pixabay

Beginning when I was 14 and puberty had barely sparked (I was a late bloomer), I fell in love with yoga. I was anxious and obsessive, even as a child, and yoga offered a strange but welcome calm. Over 50 years, I just kept coming back. Through careers, marriages, divorces, parenting, pregnancies, and even labor. Doing yoga with headstands and handstands during my first labor, I was in denial it could really be labor because it was too mild. The next morning, I delivered. I’ve been to yoga workshops and retreats. I don’t do yoga at home much, instead attending about three classes a week, an hour each. I’m not a yoga animal, I just need and love it; yoga is a consistent part of keeping myself well.

Down dog, dancer, dandasana. A few fancy folds, twists, and arm balances too. Handstands if I’m lucky. I was blessed with limber DNA. I’m good. But I’m certainly not enlightened, or even close. I’m happy when class ends. It feels good during, and especially after. That feeling keeps me coming back.

But during class? You wouldn’t believe some of the thoughts going through my mind when I’m in a class full of students—many of whom I’ve practiced with for a long time and care about. I doubt I’m alone. Here are a few of my confessions:

I judge others. When people saunter in more than a few minutes late and we need to shuffle mats to make room for them, trust me, I think unkind thoughts. When someone puts their mat down in what I might consider “my spot,” I get miffed. Once when I was in the third trimester of pregnancy, a classmate—someone I know decades later to be an amazing woman—walked in front of me and closed the window. It was winter, but I was sweating. It took everything I had not to roar, “I’m pregnant and I get to leave it open!” I scrunched my eyes shut and tried desperately to breathe into my pose instead.

I’m competitive. I feel bad in class, worried that people watch and compare themselves to me. I try to stay in the back where that can’t happen, but it’s inevitable. People comment about my “advanced” practice. I apologize, explaining that I began at 14 and have good yoga DNA. Nevertheless, no matter how many times I’ve heard “Stay on your own mat” to help us not compare ourselves to others, I compare. If there is someone as adept as I am, or—heaven forfend—more adept, I notice I push harder—very un-yogic of me! I make excuses: “Maybe they can do that, but can they do this?!” If I catch myself, I offer an internal eye roll and do my best to congratulate them for their practice, then move on.

I watch the clock. As mentioned, I like yoga best when it’s over. Or, more exactly, when it’s svasana at the end: corpse, or resting pose. If the studio has no clock, I’m fine. But if a clock is there, I play mind games: “At least finish this pose on the other side before you glance at the time?” I calculate how much longer until we sit and wind down. Admittedly un-zen.

I critique instructors. Once, I took an evening class to get together with a good friend. It was an hour and a half, and I really wanted to be there. The teacher kept us late. Every week. Not just five minutes—10, 15, 20 minutes late. He never mentioned we’d be going over, and he didn’t usually end with svasana, either. Toward 7:30, when class was supposed to end, I felt grateful to be finishing. Then the teacher introduced another pose, and another, and another. I learned to say I had to leave at 7:30, and left, but then I missed winding down. I couldn’t take it. I quit. Evidently, going overtime didn’t bother others. But it did me, and that’s OK. I’ve had countless teachers, and they’re all beautifully human. I try to pick people I vibe with and learn from (and those that finish reasonably on time, with svasana). When I notice critical thoughts, I try to focus on something helpful I’ve learned from this very teacher. If I can’t, at least I think how grateful I’ll be when class ends and I’ve completed practice.

Source: Vishal Bhutani/Unsplash

Being a therapist offers a sublime advantage in hearing all kinds of thoughts and feelings people judge as “bad” or “evil.” I know my yoga thoughts are “normal” (for lack of a better word), and outing myself might help others normalize their thoughts too. Thinking is neither bad nor evil—it’s just thinking. True yoga is in not judging this mind chatter, but simply noticing it. That’s the awareness that helps us grow, in wisdom and compassion. For ourselves. And hopefully for those in our lives too.