Thursday, January 21, 2016

500 Words. Day 5. Breathe baby girl.

“Your peace is more important than driving yourself crazy trying to understand why something happened the way it did. Let it go.”

These words. They showed up in my Facebook feed at the exact moment I needed to read them. 

Peace. It’s what I’m striving for in my life. The last six months have been one hell of a roller coaster, and overtime I feel as if I’m pulling up to the end of the ride and Im about to get off, the car just whizzes straight on past the gate and goes around for another hectic spin.

As I look back on it all, I’m amazed to realize that even with the uncertainty, the last few months have felt the most peaceful to me. Even with the hair loss, the silent treatment, the anxiety clawing at the pit of my stomach. I reflect, and I feel happy. This feeling of jubilation is because I am making it on my own after the last several years of feeling as if I was weak for depending on others. In these moments I am the decision maker, I hold my fate in my own hands. I am not fragile, I do not feel as if I have to be rescued, or if I am less than enough. I am slowly but surely realizing how in control of it all I really am. 

I step onto my yoga mat, coming to my practice with a simple intention: Breathe. 

As the next 60 minutes flows by I focus on my shoulders, consciously relaxing them, lowering them away from my head. I’m aware of my abdomen, and how I am not holding myself together, and no wonder I’m falling out of balancing poses. I don’t get frustrated though. I simply breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Over and over again.

I smile at the wall in front of me as I slowly, unsteadily bring my foot up to my inner thigh in tree pose. Noticing that I’m holding myself up a little bit taller when I’m balancing on my left side, and I feel shaky when I’m shifting to my right. 

Breathe, darling heart, breathe.

I call myself “darling heart” or “baby girl” when I’m reminding myself to breathe. In yoga practice, at work, in tense situations where I notice a tightness slowly starting to spread over my body originating in my chest. It’s taken me years of therapy, and a consistent mindfulness practice to realize my habit of not breathing when I feel tense or afraid. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

It’s all I can do some days. Pay attention to my breath. Noticing the coolness of the air in my nose as I breathe in, the expansion of my lungs, the feeling of floating as I hold my breath for a moment longer. The slow release of pent up energy, used up air escaping out of my mouth silently. 

My peace is found in my breath.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Breathe, baby girl.

Breathe. 


My peace is found in my breath.

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