It is not without hesitation, or fear, or doubt that I write this. I have not transcribed a written word of my own, truly my own in four months, four achingly long, brutal, beautiful, harsh, confusing months.
The only words written from pen to paper have been notes scribbled in my notebook from the grueling hours of yoga therapy training the past 8 months...wow that took some thought tracking how long of a process this current undertaking has been.
It's that annoying pause in my brain, that itch to scratch, to recalculate or reassess something, an innovative yet painstakingly ritualistic method to distract my mind from the here and now.
It's irritatingly familiar the anxiety and obsessive tendencies that set in almost instantaneously, begging me to retreat into their distractive allure. I'm not sure if I'm making myself clear. In fact, I probably am downright confusing.
But, this is my mind, right now, post-research paper writing for my yoga therapy program. I was writing a paper about yoga therapy and its effectiveness in addiction treatment, a topic near and dear to my heart, as I have personally struggled with food addictions, disordered eating, exercise addiction and other compulsive addictions.
Yet again, the left part of my brain, thoroughly enjoyed stealing the show. Meanwhile, my creative, right brain, sat back yawning and twiddling her bedazzled thumbs.
She wondered when she would finally be set free, free to wander, to roam, to galvanize my attention into something more captivating than the daily routine (side note: she is singing right now and laughing a joyous laugh at my feeble attempts in captivating her raw, expressive nature).
These parts of me are still not quite sure of the other: left and right, masculine and feminine, mind and body; sometimes, in a mere stroke of brilliance, clear thinking or inspiration, their paths cross. And, weirdly enough, they sometimes merge into coherent ideas, nothing like this blog post mind you.
My left brain thrives on order, completion, perfection, symmetry, linear thinking, but also guilt. If it had its way, this blog post would have proceeded fairly directly to the point.
But, what is the point? How can I summarize the past few months when the mere experiences can not be captured even in words of my own?
I suppose my life is continuing to unfold in weirdly, unimaginable, yet sometimes predictable ways. I am 25-years young and just when I think I know where things are going....Bam! And, no that wasn't a bus.
Well, it depends on if we're speaking metaphorically or not. For the sake of this story, this bus has been another one of those inevitable changes in life, the endings and beginnings and all the weird, awkward transitionary moments in between.
At the end of July, I left my job working at a school with kids with special needs, feeling burnt out and ready for a change. I had felt the itch to leave for a few months prior, as well as a drastic stagnation in energy and forward growth. It was time to move on.
As I transitioned from a steady, consistent schedule into a freer, lighter albeit confusing month-long period, I started working in ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) Therapy in the home, until I landed my current job working at a learning center.
These weird, awkward pauses between the next "big" move never seem to come any more graceful. Though I suppose the action part is key.
Just keep moving forward, I reiterate to myself when I can so easily forget how to get where I think I'm going.
My next move is in a few weeks as I wrap up level one of yoga therapy training (yup, there are three levels). Needless to say, my focus is landing elsewhere at this point in time. My eyes and heart are set on massage therapy school, which I will start in nearly three weeks.
I feel a deeper yearning in my heart to be a part of healing work and using my hands and my heart to support people in their bodies. I yearn for a quieter work environment more conducive to a slower rhythm.
I deeply recognize the environments I have worked in the past three years have been wildly chaotic, at times traumatizing, harsh, loud, overstimulating and draining. My body yearns for a more nurturing and sustainable work space.
Faith and patience, I tell myself. I know I cannot predict how the tiny details will fall into place as I attempt to balance work, school, home life and a budding relationship. My energy can easily fall into the range of dispersed and fragmented, ungrounded and uncollected.
When my energy is low, I know it is time to come home to myself and reground. As always, it is no easy choice when your energy is running low and emotions high, to choose the path of greatest love, health and long-term benefits.
My mind still spins on its crazy wheel of I want what I want when I want it...NOW.
And, sure sometimes it wins. Sometimes, the fight seems to much for my weakened system. Sometimes, that sweet treat and compulsion to numb is the wolf I feed. And, the next day, I am reminded in not so comfortable ways, why this wolf must be nourished in other more loving, self-nurturing ways.
I am always doing the best that I can, I tell myself when my self-criticism and harsh judgment won't budge.
We are all aways doing the best we can. And, that is more than enough in these turbulent times. To just keep moving forward is enough, no matter the destination.
I may not have all of the answers, nor do I need to know them, but just to trust that one step in the right direction is always what I am called to do.
So, for this evening, one step back toward creative expression, authentic and vulnerable sharing and sometimes a confusing ramble of past and current events, is enough.
Just.....keep....moving.
