Fragile - handle with care

I've accepted that this hypersensitive state of mind, together with me being completely incapable of handling stress, a red flag signaling that I have to make some changes. I refuse to become the vicitm of burnout. I accept that it's going to take time for me to feel like myself again.

So I'm letting the tears fall when possible and when the kids aren't around. I've decided to focus on getting through my final days of work (before I take my vacation) and lay off with my S&M attitude towards housekeeping. I've told my husband that our communication has to be direct and to the point; I can't deal with innuendos and suggestive hints in need of deciphering.

And I tell myself that this is yet another phase which will pass.

Let the Shakti lead the way -

- Learn how to fly in asana.

This was the title of the workshop I attended with Ulrika Engman, on visit in Sweden, at Yoga Shakti. For three hours we explored different positions without really knowing which pose we would end up in. It was all about the journey, as well as how you build stability from your foundation in order to tap into your energy, thereby making difficult positions seem more or less effortless.

She was absolutely phenomenal. Anyone who hasn't tried Anusara yoga should definitely try it out. Founder John Friend has succeeded in erasing the boundaries between philosophical and physical practices in a way that makes doing yoga seem just as natural as breath itself.

Mindfullness & mortality

Still working on not letting the lump in my throat get the best of me. Yesterday as I was driving (I usually drive between 4-7 hours a day for work), I got to thinking about my behavior while I'm driving, my behavior when I'm at home and not working, my behavior at the breakfast table, hell, even my behavior in the bathroom.

Just like an alcoholic in denial since she only drinks "a glass or two" of wine from her wine-in-a-box, I admit to being a clandestine stimulus addict. The second I get in the car I turn on the radio. At home, even though I rarely watch TV, I can't imagine an evening with going online. At the breakfast table, if I'm alone I find myself turning the milk carton around just to read the same text about cows being let out into the pasture for the umpteenth time. In the bathroom I bring the newspaper even if I'm only going to be in there for two minutes. And it dawned on me that I have to stop fleeing, not that I know what I'm fleeing from.

So yesterday I started by driving in complete silence the last 45 minutes of my trip home. I didn't get caught up in the Internet that evening. This morning I drove to the train station in silence again. I found it enjoyable, even though it took a few minutes to "adjust" and get my damn'd monkey mind to take a chill pill.

Then as I was on the platform waiting for my train, my husband told me on the phone that Michael Jackson died. To be honest, I am not a huge fan of Michael, but he symbolized my youth. This portrait was taken when I was 13, and his passing reminds me of the finality of life, and of how we are constantly changing throughout life's journey. Even if I had gone to see Michael Jackson's concert this winter, it wouldn't make me 13 again. Yet in my mind's eye the images of what that era represented to me: innocence, potential, adolescence, liberation, anticipation, remain untainted.

That is, until now. And yet the same words that described that period of my life are just as applicable to my life as it is right now. Same-same, but different.

Better half

I hate to admit it (which he is all too aware of), but sometimes my husband is right.

Tonight we found ourselves once again talking on the phone; I think we spend more time talking on the phone nowadays than talking in real life, but that's another blog entry altogether. He's on his way home from Malmö, and I'm at home, still in a funk. For what feels like the umpteenth day in a row, I can start crying at the drop of a hat; my threshold for stress has completely shut down.

At least 10 times during our conversation he tells me to do some yoga, maybe meditate. "Try doing what you wanted to do last night." "Try to meditate so you can breathe easily again." "Do some yoga now."

This coming from a man whose own yoga merits can be summed up in two words - Child's pose...

But he's right; dammit he's right. Time to hit the mat.

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Not so fast...

I thought after yesterday's release that maybe I was on the road to recovery, but tonight I found myself again feeling like I am enclosed in a pressure cooker. It's like my stress hormones are seeping deeper into every cell, every fiber, and I am having a really hard time finding relief. You start to wonder if the Earth's gravitational force has increased...

I taught a soft yoga class tonight, and OH, how I wish I could have participated myself! I was feeling so incredibly stiff after yesterday's workout and driving 7 hours in my car today. So after class, instead of heading for the showers, I drove home and decided to try to do some "P.M. Yoga" for 20 minutes; AND I JUST COULDN'T DO IT. I started off in child's position and tried to breathe. When that didn't help I lay on my back with my legs resting on our easy chair's footrest. I even tested Downward Dog, just to see how my body would respond, and my body's answer was a loud and resounding NO.

So now I have to try to figure out how to proceed. Do I a) just do my practice? b) commit myself to meditation and hope that the incredible challenge of quieting my mind will eventually pass? c) write lists of everything that is stressing me and figure out a plan for how to deal with each issue individually? d) stop fretting and just chill?

Like my girlfriend wrote to me a few days ago; some things you can try, things you know can be good for you, but instead you put if off since you know you will most likely end up feeling worse before you feel better.

Is this what being pre-menopausal feels like?

Turning point

The past week has not been fun at all. No major crises or tragedies, mind you, but still, I have been stuck in a rut physically, mentally, and emotionally (very possibly due to be overly hormone-ly).

So finding inspiration to today's class was not too easy. I sat down and went through a number of Yoga Journal newletters that I receive as e-mails. I finally started putting them in their own map since I usually thought to myself that I would read them once I got around to it...say no more. Today I was starting to feel desperate. It would be my last class before taking a break for the summer, so I wanted it to be good.

I looked at different topics: "Presence through pain", "Find freedom from resistance", "Bouncing back", before I decided upon "Say grace". I was reminded about how I through my own selfish expectations take way too much for granted and fall into the trap of feeling frustrated when faced with disappointment. I found even more wisdom as I read the editorial to this month's Yoga Journal where the editor pondered the question of why we wait until tragedy strikes before we show how much we love each other? Why do we persist in waiting until we feel "safe" enough and confident enough about how the receiving part feels in return before we dare open our hearts? Good questions that hit me at home.

So this became the root of today's theme. It would be "give and take". Show gratitude for your gifts, however small they may be. During my own practice, I found myself at times being thankful just for being done with a challenging posture! In return we were to open our hearts with the symbolic "favorite drinks" arm position, which goes like this: Stand with your elbows bent, palms facing up, and your overarms close your sides. Now, pretend that you have two trays filled with glasses of your favorite drinks that you are about serve to your favorite people. What do you do? Rotate your arms outward and voilá - Favorite drinks! Incorporating this in Chatarunga dandasana (deep plank) and backbends is magic for your thoracic back and the ultimate protection for your shoulders.

It was fun, challenging, exhausting, and energizing. Just what I needed. My turn to say grace.

Plastideal

Jag har en barndomsvän som jag har återupptagit kontakt med tack vare Facebook. Vi stod varandra nära under våra högstadieår i USA och redan då hyste jag enorm respekt för hennes intelligens, klokhet och skönhet. Hon flyttade innan vi slutade på gymnasiet, men när jag fick höra att hon senare läst journalism och spanska vid universitetet blev jag inte ett dugg förvånad.

Hon är lika vacker än idag. Och desstuom tävlar hon i triatlon. Hon har en stilig man, två supersöta barn och fantastisk villa. Nyligen fyllde hon fyrtio (vilket jag ocskå kommer att göra om ett halvår). På bilderna från hennes firande ser jag dock en annan kvinna. Hon har opererat in bröstinlägg lika stora som meloner. Magen, rumpan och höfterna har fettsugits.

Jag kan inte sluta titta på bilderna och undra, "VARFÖR?" Brösten ser ut som de väger lika mycket som bowling klot och sitter numera upptryckta nästan direkt under hakan. Visst är hennes ansikte lika fräscht som för trettio år sedan, men själv tänker jag att femtio inte längre känns särskilt långt bort. Hur kommer det då att se ut? Att inte tala om när man är sextio...

Jag förstår helt enkelt inte. Ja, ja, det är ett fritt val och man får göra som man vill. Detsamma gäller dock min blogg, och nu väljer jag att skriva att jag helt enkelt tycker det är för jävligt. Och jag kan inte hjälpa utan att undra, "Om jag hade bott kvar i USA, hade jag också velat bli en desperat hemmafru?"

Compassion without pity

At yesterday's "soft yoga" class one of our regular yogis graced us with her presence. I don't know her name, but I adore her spirit. A year or so ago I remember mentioning to her that it was good to see her again, that it had been a while, and she replied that she had just lost her daughter. I noticed then a necklace with a pendant bearing her daughter's name, and I realized that I had recently read an obituary in the newspaper for a 3-year-old girl with that name. I told her how sorry I was, and she warmly replied that it was OK, she (her daughter) had fought hard.

Every time she comes to my class with her shy smile and vibrant red hair, every time I lay my hands on her as she lies in Savasana, I can't help thinking that I am touching a mother whose child has died. I want so much to be able to offer some comfort, yet she never shows any type of sorrow, at least not at yoga.

At the end of last night's class, she approached me to say that she is a member of a child cancer organization, and she thought that perhaps the kind of class I taught last night could be something for the other parents in her group. Without hesitation I said, "I'll be there." If all goes as planned, it will be in Skåne, probably in September.

I don't think I have ever felt so humble as I did when I received this request. As a mother of two, these parents have been subjected my absolute greatest fear. The strength they must possess in order to carry on astounds me. The wisdom of life's true value, which they must have attained through their suffering, cannot be fathomed.

This summer I plan on preparing myself by trying to teach with compassion and without pity, as I feel that pity is a non-productive emotion. I so want to be able to offer something, give something, anything, in order to help, even if it's just a tiny, little bit, in the healing process. In return I hope to learn something about cherishing that which I have, my treasures that I all too often take for granted.

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Recurring nightmare

This morning I woke up with my heart in my throat. Once again I had dreamt that I was supposed to be on my way to the airport, and that I was dreadfully late. To make things worse I dreamt that as I was walking out the door, it dawned on me that I hadn't printed out my tickets. So I tried to log into my e-mail account, and when I opened the files that were supposed to contain my ticket information, all I could see was a regular airline brochure. As my panic grew, my husband got more and more agitated. Suddenly my mother-in-law appeared (who passed away 5 years ago), and I remember thinking what a shame that this could be the last time I see her, and I don't even have time to say good-bye. Outside it was pouring rain. I didn't know where I was headed, but I knew I was about to miss my flight. I was lost in complete and utter chaos.

This is a typical dream scenario. Funny, because I don't see myself as a stressful person. I do what I can for the moment, and I try my best to live consciously. Or so I think...

For there is one area aside from my dreams where I experience frustration and feel a bit lost. It is when I try to meditate. I try to keep it simple, and yet at the same time I try to follow some basic rules: I sit on my meditation pillow with an erect spine. I close my eyes. I breathe evenly and unforced through my nose. I practice a little pranayama. I sit still. I focus on quieting my thoughts without judgment.

But when I feel that I'm finally somewhat on the right path, I start wondering, "Now, what?" I know enough to not expect the heavens to burst open as choirs of angels annoint me with enlightenment, but I wish I had some sort of idea that what I am doing is having some sort of effect? I recently read in Yoga Journal that a study had shown that people who practiced meditation were better at noticing details compared to a group of people who didn't meditate. But subtle transitions are not easily noticed in oneself.

I have given up a lot of habits that were based on the belief that it was supposed to be good for me even though I didn't like it. Instead I try to take care of myself by doing things that I enjoy. But I am making an exception with my meditation. Unfortunately I can't honestly say I am enjoying it, but I guess I haven't given it enough effort, or else I am in need of guidance.

Keeping your head above water is easy when you're only up to your ankles...

I have continued to be overly sensitive throughout the day, and it hasn''t taken much for me to start feeling pretty sorry for myself. I absolutely hate pity parties, and I seriously hope that it has more to do with P.M.S. than me actually believing that I have any right to feel as though I am the victim of any unfairness.

One reason why I have gotten in the habit of reading blogs such as Vimmelmamman and Börja om is that they put my so called problems into a-slap-in-the-face perspective. Especially this exerpt written by Vimmelmamman touched my heart and compelled me to go into Musikfrökens blog.

In the last entry, Musikfröken''s husband (or rather,widower, to be exact) writes the following:

Hoppas att era vänner, släktingar, syskon, föräldrar mm mm slipper den här jävla sjukdomen så att ni får ett bra liv.

Ta hand om varandra och fundera ett extra varv om det verkligen är så viktigt det där som ni bråkar om. Tänk på det för det kan vara sista gången och jag är bara så glad och tacksam att vi hann säga adjö och sitta och skratta åt våra upptåg innan döden kom. Ta hand om er och minns att det ni gör för en medmänniska kan vara så litet för er men gigantiskt för den så ta chansen och gör nån glad, för det skall jag göra. (hämtat från Musikfrökens blog)

Amen. Om shanti.

Barometer blues

The weather has gone from sunshine to dreary clouds, from shortsleeves and capris to jackets and umbrellas. Somehow the change in pressure seems to have effected my sense of flow.

I've already written about my "brush with justice", very simply how a momentary lapse of attention in the vincinity of a loaded radar camera may very well lead to a speeding ticket. Just accept it. Tonight I noticed that a dubious classmates website withdrew money from my credit card. Not a lot of money, but enough to make me want to question if they had the right to do so. No luck trying to discuss the matter with customer service. Just accept it?

Then there's the sluggish phase in our relationship where we're just going through the motions, not really seeing each other as much as we should, where irritation is easily ignited. To accept (with loving patience) or not to accept (as in do something about it); that is the question?

I humbly surrender as I see no point in fighting an invisible enemy. Instead I am on my knees asking for grace - and a change in the weather.

Small twist of fate

I love when LIFE takes an unexpected turn, however small, and ends up pointing me in a direction that I wouldn't have taken on my own. Tonight I had planned on going to Carina's Body Jam class. Carina, who will have a hard time reading the following, is my dancing idol. When I go to her class, her spirit possesses mine (sort of like in the movie "Ghost"), and my sweat is only surpassed by my joy. Tonight Carina couldn't teach, and me being a creature of habit, a creature of comfort, I didn't know quite what to do. It dawned on me that all the driving I had done this week had left me feeling pretty stiff, so maybe an explosive dance class wasn't what my body needed tonight, after all.

The yoga studio would only be available for half-an-hour before the start of Lotta's Pilates class. OK, I figured I could go in and do some sun salutations along with some hip openers and forward bends. And as long as I was there, I might as well try out the Pilates class, right? I've dabbled some in Pilates since it's an integrated part of Body Balance; I've just never taken an entire class. I was secretly hoping that it wouldn't be like a core class where one gets lactic acid buildup (mjölksyra) just by walking through the door.

I could relax. The class was fantastic. Working with my energies to stabilize as I lengthened through the moves in unison with my breathing was just what I needed.

How lovely when everything doesn't go as planned... ;)

Reality

It's 10 P.M., and I'm hungry. I just completed 1½ hours of filling out forms and sending e-mails to clients. Before that I got the kids showered, teeth brushed, and even got to read my 5-year-old a story (which is fine by me; it's been ages since he's wanted to hear a goodnight story). Before that I defied the rain gods and mowed the lawn despite their ominous clouds. Before that I got home at 6 P.M. from yet another full day of travels and appointments. Before that I ate breakfast and drank the only cup of coffee that I would have time for today.

I think I'll use little time that remains before I have to crash into bed hanging out with my husband. Good night.

Major frustration, lesson unknown (aside from the obvious)

Tonight, for the second time in my 23½ year driving career, I got busted for speeding. Not much, under 10 km over the limit (roughly 6½ mph). No cops, no drama, just an unexpected flash just as I was singing along to "Eternal Flame" on the radio. No excuses, right?

Yet, am I bitter? At the moment: What, are you kidding??? HELL, YEAH! I have been sooo bummed out, thinking about how tight I have been with money. How I have been really avoiding treating myself to unnecessary luxuries, like that Viatmenese lotus lamp in silk and bamboo that I fell in love with a couple of weeks ago. That lamp might as well be in Vietnam at this point because it certainly doesn't feel like I'll be treating myself to anything for a long time to come.

Usually I try to reason with myself and find some hidden meaning in all that happens, especially when I have screwed up. I suppose this lesson isn't too below the surface after all. I just have to lighten up on the gas.

Anticipation

I am really looking forward to teaching today's yoga class. The past few weeks I have been working on releasing that which can be released in my poses, and I'm happy to say that it's taking my practice to a new dimension, especially in hip-openers. The metaphor I used when I taught Wednesday's class was comparing doing yoga in sweatpants as opposed to wearing jeans. I encouraged them to find just how much energy was needed to achieve alignment, just as sweatpants need a waistband, followed by creating the same freedom of movement one feels in one's favorite workout clothes. Simple, but effective.

I like mixing it up in my yoga, which is one of the (many) things I love about Virya yoga. Today's class will be no exception. I plan on surprising them by cheerfully switching between levels 1, 2, and 3 throughout our modules, and I can't wait to see their reaction when they get to test these principles in supported handstands...

Relationships and Rubberbands

I am fortunate to have been in a relationship with P for nearly 17 years, of which we have been married for 12. We are both pretty tempramental so it would be a lie to say that it's been a dance on roses, at some points it's been more like "The War of the Roses". But we're still hanging in there.

I wonder if I would have succeeded thus far if I hadn't read Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus: How to Get What You Want in Your Relationships many years ago. OK, maybe the second half of the book is a bit on the cheesy side, but the first half, describing the fundamental differences between the male and female psyche is invaluable.

I managed after weeks of nagging to even get P to read it (Thank goodness we were still young and in love at that point; I doubt I would have succeeded today ;) .). The points that have etched themselves into my brain (as well as my heart) throughout these years are as follows:

• When met with a problem, men focus immediately on finding a solution - knowing this makes it possible for me to tell P that although I understand where he is coming from, I am not interested in him fixing anything; that I'd rather have some understanding.
  
• Men have an inherent need to at times find sanctuary in there own, personal "cave" that has absolutely nothing to do with them feeling any less towards their partner! My husband visits his "cave" by either going to the track to train his horse or by staying up late alone and mindlessly watch T.V. I have noticed that the sooner I let him do it, without butting in, the better.
  
• Men are like rubberbands; the more they are allowed to be stretched away from home, the harder and faster they "snap back" upon their return. Luckily, this even works if I am the one who leaves the chicken farm for a while, like when I'm away travelling with work. I am always spoiled with a warm welcome when I come home.

I've even learned some things about the female psyche, for example:

• Women's emotions move like waves, and that they at times have to reach the "bottom of the well" before they can start reaching upwards again. Now I don't have to freak out about my emotional storms that sneak up on me from time to time.
  

Much of this is perhaps common sense, but it was nothing I had any idea about before reading this book. Cudos to Oprah who tuned me into it all those years ago. I love the fact that I now have the tools I need to show my husband that I love and appreciate him, in a way to which he can relate.

At this very moment, my husband is stretching his rubberband all the way to his friend's house, where he and the "guys" are watching the Sweden-Denmark soccer match. Thank goodness my husband is ½ Swedish-½ Danish. I'm looking forward to him snapping home knowing that regardless the outcome, his team will have won :-) .

Passing it on, living it up

I've gotten better giving up trying to control that which I can't control. The humility that follows comes with an enhanced sense of gratitude towards the simple shifts of fate the Universe offers that simply make my life easier and more enjoyable.

Today I was once again about to leave for Blekinge when I received a call from my client saying that the therapist we booked an appointment with was ill, and we would have to reschedule. Suddenly I had an "office" day that wasn't steered by any scheduled meetings. Since we had decided to book a new appointment the following Thursday, I would need someone to take over my Body Balance class next week. I knew my friend and colleague Carina, who was going to be teaching today's lunch class, had been ill so I called her and asked if she would mind switching classes with me. Needless to say, she was delighted. Talk about win-win.

The joy and endorphine kick I got from today's class has stayed with me throughout the day. The kids got to decide what to eat tonight (hamburgers), and my husband, who was also in a good mood after having been to the track to train his horse, made it home just as I was making them. Dinner was delicious with just the right blend of spices and toppings.

After dinner I plopped down in my "Lazyboy" recliner which I had bought when I was expecting my son. It's in the corner of our living room, and I don't often sit here, but geez, it's comfortable. A few minutes later my husband came out from the kitchen and lay a bag with a few remains of my favorite cornchips on my lap.

The atmosphere is simply harmonious.

Pain is NOT weakness leaving your body

It's arrogant. It's ignorant. And it comes at a high price.

The International Association for the Study of Pain gives this definition: PAIN is "an unpleasant sensory and emotional experience associated with actual or potential tissue damage, as described in terms of such damage".

Pain can be a number of things. Most often it is your body telling you to back off because danger is perceived. Sometimes the body's anticipatory fear is adequate, and failure to comply will lead to injury. How does that translate into losing weakness?

Pain is subjective. Sometimes one feels pain due to different types of psychological stimulus where there perhaps isn't a clear and present danger to the physical body presiding. Ask yourself then, "Why am I experiencing pain? Is there some issue I should be looking into rather than blindly pushing myself to the limit of what I can tolerate?" Or is hurting yourself psychologically somehow equivalent to losing weakness?

In yoga one can experience discomfort. Discomfort can be regulated by making sure that your breathing and focus are not negatively affected. One can have sore muscles as a result of one's physical exertion. This is a sign that muscle fibers have been broken, and in order to repair and replace them with new, stronger fibers the body requires rest.

Seriously, you wouldn't consciously hurt your children, right? Then why the hell would you want to do it to yourself? What is the point of unnecessary suffering? Use your energy to bring something positive into the world instead. By all means, exercise, get stronger, gain flexibility, build endurance, get leaner, lose weight, gain weight, but for goodness sake keep it healthy, and keep it sane! And don't forget that the mind needs nurturing, not torture.

The longest two minute walk ever.

When I walk to the kids' daycare it takes me about two minutes to get there - door-to-door.

When I walk home with my son, it takes at least fifteen, if not longer. It would take much longer if I didn't try to cattlesteer him homewards. Still, it is fascinating to see what a 5-year-old can discover in this world that his 39-year-old mother is too caught up in her own world to see...

Lucky

I woke up feeling anxious about today. I had appointments late in the afternoon in Malmö which meant that I would be leaving just as rush hour started, and all the way through Lund they're doing roadwork, so at best I would be getting home at 8 P.M. this evening.

Since my working hours are irregular I'm lucky that my husband can usually take care of picking the kids up from daycare in the afternoon. Today, with my consent, he would be packing his horse and sulky after lunch and make the 3½ hour trip to Malmö to start in a race at Jägersro (we'd be driving past each other somewhere around Kristianstad).

The neighbors were kind enough to say that the kids could wait at their house; we are so lucky to have them. Especially since I know they were expecting company, had a school meeting, and were going to take the dog to obedience school.

So even though there was a solution, it just didn't feel right. My daughter would be going on a bicycle trip with her class so I knew she was going to be tired this evening. And my son would be out all day playing and in dire need of a shower as well as an early bedtime.

Sitting in my car on my way to Malmö, I tried not to fret; I just figured I would hope for the best, hopefully I wouldn't be delayed. About half-an-hour after I started my trip I noticed that I had gotten an e-mail. Lucky for me my e-mails are delivered to my cell phone. It was from the therapist I would be meeting this afternoon. There had been a misunderstanding, and the girl we were supposed to meet was away on a field trip. So we had to postpone our appointment. My other visits could easily be rescheduled. I stopped my car, made a few phone calls, and headed back.

I couldn't believe my luck.