armor

sometimes i feel broken.
sometimes i feel like i cover myself in armor.
sometimes i feel like i'm the only one.
sometimes i feel crazy.

and then today happens.

i hear a young man say "everyone's a little broken; we wouldn't be people if we weren't."

--i feel some armor slide away.

i get an email from someone i don't know telling me that she read my blog and mentioned "I had a particularly bad day today and am feeling quite alone, and although there is no purpose to my email other than to tell you that I really admire your courage, typing this out makes me feel a bit more connected to the universe."

--i don't feel so crazy.

the email i received was from a young woman with an eating disorder and talked about how she felt alone, about some of the shame she carries, and about how she didn't feel courageous enough to tell some of the people in her life--specifically those at work.

the email made me feel so many things: empathy, sadness, admiration, gratitude... and kind of like i was a fake. yes, sometimes my blog feels courageous. but sometimes it feels like i get to hide behind it because i'm being so open here. like i have built some armor up through all the baring.

she complimented me on my career status and about how open i was with my eating disorder. it's true that i talk about my struggles and recovery status with people at work i barely know. but there are also things i don't tell them. like when i'm late to a meeting because i had to run a little longer to make my mind feel sane before i was allowed to shower and go to the meeting. or like when i schedule things around a yoga class i feel like i just have to get to or my soul will freak out. these things could be termed "taking care of myself," or they could be termed "selfish," or even, dare i say it, "characteristic of someone with an eating disorder."

there's STUFF. there will probably always be stuff. i've let go of a lot--and i am very proud of that. but there's still the little broken pieces i keep finding under the rug; the little shells of armor stuck to my skin that haven't all chipped away. and finding them can be hard.

in some ways, i don't know where this blog is going. am i trying to build up more armor for later? am i trying desperately to feel as courageous as this lovely reader portrayed me to be? what am i trying to do?

i think it's the shame that really gets to me. i carried so much shame about binging and purging... for so long. i still do. and there is so much stigma around so many mental health issues, and about seeking help for them, that i get angry at that shame. i get angry that it even exists. and when i read this email with the words "embarrassment and shame" included in it, i felt that familiar stinging in my heart.


it's only talking, sharing, and giving a face to a health issue that can de-stigmatize it. my shame disintegrates when i don't give it any power. when i told my mom about bulimia, when i told my co-worker about my bulimia, when i told my yoga class about my bulimia, when i post a blog about bulimia on Facebook, i lose the shame. it disappears with the broken pieces under the rug, it hides under the small pieces of armor still remaining.

i can't fix the world; i can't even fix me. but i also know that i don't need to. i can let go of the armor; i know i'm already whole. and i have hope that the world is ready for that.

and, to every blog reader, but especially L: the world is ready; i believe in you.

through your eyes

i was at a birthday party a couple of nights ago talking to a friend i don't see very often. he gave me a few compliments that were hard to hear--because they were so genuine and nice.

like SO nice. i kept saying "really?!" to things he was saying, and he kept saying "oh, come on, you know this; i'm sure your five best friends tell you this all the time!"

when i repeated these things back to kitty (still in disbelief), she said "umm, i tell you that ALL THE TIME!" oh. hmm.

three lessons here: 1) we don't tell our friends genuine things enough. 2) sometimes we may not hear or believe the things our very best friends tell us. 3) we often have no idea how others see us.

if you asked me how i see myself, this is what i would say: i'm just a girl.

sure, i know i am talented and have a lot of good qualities. but everyone has their own talents. and everyone has some great qualities. so i guess i just don't really feel that special most of the time. but it's really a strange thing to hear yourself described by someone else. luckily for me, it was also positive.

there's this old episode of "this american life" that i love so much i've listened to it a few times, and i never listen or watch things more than once. this episode is haunting, but amazing: it's called see no evil. the episode is all about pretending that things are ok and ignoring things that are uncomfortable--on personal, business, and national levels. in the first segment, there is a family struggling to see the bad in one of their loved ones. even when that something is really bad.

why is it that we can only see the most amazing things about our loved ones but we struggle to see those things in ourselves?

there's this exercise in gabby's 40 days book that has you look into the mirror and say things to yourself as if you were saying them to a best friend or lover. the exercise is quite confronting, and hard to get through. i've gone back to this a few times to try to get it "right." but it's always hard. (i dare you to try it.)

telling yourself those nice things, and believing them, is something that takes practice. we can do it on the mat or off. we can practice cultivating inner strength and power by breathing through a challenging yoga pose or by breathing through a difficult conversation.

after seeing kanye friday night, i taught a theme in yoga about stepping up to a stronger more powerful version of yourself: like believing SO MUCH in your inner strength and power. but not for ego reasons (yeah, i'm calling you on that one kanye). when we truly believe in ourselves, we can do more; we can give more; we can become more; we can inspire more.

we can manifest miracles.

and it's important to do. hard work... but super important.

practicing believing what i hear. love to you N for your words saturday night. i actually heard what you said. and it means a lot to me.

sharing the love back. words to KK you may need right now: you're smart, intelligent, genuine, kind, caring, loving, and loveable. to A going for a job interview later today: you're going to rock it. #nodoubts and to all y'all: you have it inside you too. xx

heart courage

when i started the whole 40-day miracle process (thanks gabby!), i started to address my fears. i realized how brave i was being every day, and i told my sister about it. she started the 40-day book as well, but didn't feel like she was doing brave things as a result. i told her they didn't have to be as drastic as confessions to a parent or addressing a divorce. i told her they could be little things. she thought really hard. she finally said, "well, i don't feel comfortable talking to parents, and i had to do it all week at parent-teacher conferences."

and you know what? that's a big deal. every little thing we do that involves being courageous is a big deal. because it's hard. and we rarely give ourselves credit for these things.

i'm constantly impressed by the courageousness my friends possess.

my sister who has the courage to have difficult work conversations.
my friend who has the courage to show up for a coaching call where he feels ambushed.
my friend who has the courage to show up to therapy each week, even though it's hard.
my friend who has the courage to move from AU to the US for 3 months w/o her partner.
my friend who has the courage to make a life-move to the US from AU.
my friend who has the courage to make a life-move to AU from the US.
my friend who has the courage to come out as a child sexual assault survivor to the world.

and my friend who has the courage to finally ask for help with her struggle with bulimia.

big things are hard. but little things can be just as fucking hard.

i have struggled with bulimia. i have struggled with asking for help. i have gone around in circles in my head for hours, days, and months with arguments for not talking about it. i've made deals with myself about when i'd ask for help. i've made rationalizations about why i hadn't asked for help. i spent about as much time dealing with the struggle with asking for help as i did with the struggle with bulimia.

so i wanted to acknowledge my friend's step. because it's big. so: "hey girl!! good. fucking. work."

right now i'm making a big decision. it's still a bit secret squirrel, but it involves drastic life changes on a number of levels. i've panicked so much that i've ended up in tears in work situations; i've made pro and con lists and talked to my lifecoach (elena!) about them; i've avoided making the associated necessary plans involved with the decision; i've gone to see a fortune teller; i've stressed to the point of returning to disordered eating habits; basically, i haven't really been dealing well. it's hard, and i don't feel super courageous in this decision process.

but, regardless of how i feel, i've had a few friends tell me that i've been courageous. elena also commented on my courage. hearing it from other people helps to make it a bit more real. and i appreciate that.

we all have choices every day. we decide how we live our lives. we can be courageous: we can live in our hearts, be vulnerable, be true, and be authentic. or we can choose to avoid.

avoiding is easy; having courage is hard: it wouldn't be so worthwhile if it wasn't. but sometimes we just need a little push. a little push toward talking about something we don't want to talk about. a little push toward asking for help. a little push toward a creative new business venture.

invite: write down something you're afraid of right now. now make a step toward addressing that fear. and tell someone about your step. post it. blog it. talk about it. share it.

i'll do it too. i'm afraid that the remnants of my eating disorder will never fully let go of my life. i've been working on several aspects of this. but i've got one more step i'm gonna put out there: i will be there for my friend who is just starting to address this. and i will not let it trigger me. and i will reach out to my supports if it does. i promise to ask for help if i need it.

i chose bulimia almost nine years ago. and i've chose it over and over since then. but now i choose to live in my heart. and to have courage. and to enact courage. and to be courage.

mistakes were made

i have a friend who loves the quote "mistakes were made." he loves it so much, in fact, that i can't hear the word "mistake" without thinking of him saying that phrase.

"mistakes were made" was made famous by politicians such as Nixon, and further popularized by comedians. the phrase implies that the person speaking the phrase made a mistake, but that they are not at fault for the mistake.

making mistakes: we all do that. admitting there were mistakes: relatively harder to do, but not altogether difficult. owning mistakes: potentially terrifying.

but you know what? if we don't own our mistakes, we don't grow. in fact, nothing really happens at all. so?

make mistakes... just make sure you grow from them.

i'm practicing: releasing the blame, releasing the hurt, offering and hoping for forgiveness. i'm learning; i'm growing. even though the past few days have felt terrible, i can also feel thankful for the opportunity arising from this pain. i'm glad that i've been challenged on my thoughts, words, and actions. my mistakes were made for me (so i could grow), but my mistakes were made for you (so i could grow for you).

i'm anticipating great things happening.
today.
and tomorrow.
for me.
and for those i love.
and i'm super glad for all the love. #twss

xo: KR, AS, MJR

anxieties and realities

i've had this one huge nagging anxiety that has been plaguing me for six weeks: that this one specific person i really care about would reject me. and guess what? two days ago it happened. the amount of pain and hurt that i'm feeling right now is pretty intense. but what's funny is that there is also a sense of calm. because my big fear was just realized. which means i don't have anything left to be anxious about.

but i can't help but think that all of the attention i focused on that anxiety is partially at fault here. where we place attention in our lives is so important. what i failed to realize before is that my anxiety was not reality. it seemed like it was, in spring-world, but that's only because i was putting so much attention there.

placing attention where we need it in our lives can be tricky. i am constantly sidetracked by emotional responses that do not serve me. purposefully placing attention is an art. one of my favorite yoga teachers, elena brower, has a workbook centered around this idea. cue purposeful reflection time.

so today, i took a lot of time for self-care. i practiced confidence and courage. i spent time alone without distractions: lots of walking, yoga, writing, and cooking. i meditated forgiveness. and all of my attention now is on love and happiness. because that's the reality i want to create. and it will have deep roots and deep strength.

pay attention to positives. try some little pieces of happy.

teaching the world

in this new year, i'm renewing my commitment to my relationship to myself: renewing the commitment to keep working on it and allowing it to blossom.

i usually find the beginning of a new year a little daunting. i hate making resolutions; i hate putting additional pressures and rules on my life. i just want today to be another day.

but it isn't just another day. it's another year.

this morning i was feeling a little depressed, a little crazy, and a little negative toward myself. i was missing one of my friends, i was reflecting on the past year, and i was feeling a little anxious about the new year.

now. let me revise what i just wrote. see all of those "little" statements? they're lies. i was feeling a lot today. a. lot.

this afternoon i managed to get myself onto my mat for an online yogaglo class with elena. it's a class i've done before; one that i often go to when feeling like i was feeling today. what's funny is that it helps me every time. like somehow i forget the lessons from it.

and then i'm reminded.

at the end of this class, elena says "how we relate to ourselves teaches the world how to relate to us." oh. shit. that's totally what i did not do today. i was freaking mean to myself all morning. i was beating myself up all afternoon. is that what i want from the world? is that what i want for my new year? hell. no.

so when i notice self-negativity, i promise myself that i will use my practice to soften and release it. "teach the world how to treat you by how you treat yourself." yeah. i will. #xo2014

shifting into confidence (OM)

i am pretty confident in most areas of my life. i don't doubt my decisions, i think everyone should trust my instincts, and i don't mind sharing my opinions. i'm confident in my work, my personal life, my relationships, my fitness teaching, and my yoga. and i thought i was confident in my yoga teaching... until i started to reflect on a few instances over the past few months.

1. friends complimenting me on my teaching and/or cues for yoga: after receiving amazing compliments from close friends, on different occasions, i found myself smiling, thanking them, and truly appreciating the compliments. but, then, after each instance, i would think to myself that those friends weren't expert yogis, or that they didn't know what was "supposed" to be cued, and i began to doubt the accuracy of the compliments.

2. the invitation to teach at an internationally attended yoga conference: after being invited to teach both a workshop and a class at the sydney evolve fest, i felt elated, momentarily. then i thought OMIGOD! WHY ARE THEY LETTING ME TEACH THERE?! i thought for sure they must have been desperate for teachers and only allowed me to teach because they had way too many spots. which turned out not to be true... but that didn't really affect my perception of the invitation.

3. the subsequent "life-changing" comments from people at the workshop: after leading a yoga/art mind-body workshop i developed, i had people coming up to me telling me about the amazing experiences they had felt: how they had realized things they never thought possible; how they heard things from me they had never allowed themselves to hear before. i smiled, i blushed, i felt humbled. and then i left and thought, surely that life-altering experience they had was a result of something else that recently happened; they were only attributing it to me.

all of these smaller reflections began to add up, especially in combination with the realization of #4 yesterday.

4. i have never taught a class an OM (spelled "aum" in sanskrit, but referred to here in its americanized spelling, cap-locked for emphasis). i suppose i have never been a big OM-er. don't get my wrong, i like my OMs. i like doing them in classes, but i really love being in the middle of them, i love the feeling of reverberation through my heart and through my body from the community of voices contributing to my own. i've just never felt comfortable teaching them. first of all, i have a terrrrrible singing voice. it's fine among the others... but as the one others might "listen" to? unh-uh. no way, forget it! oh, and i teach at gyms! they don't expect it; it might turn them off; they may never try another yoga class if i get all hippy-dippy on them!

AHEM, excuses.

after realizing that, yes, these truly were excuses, i thought: WOAH. and when taken with those other examples!?! --> i'm not as confident in my yoga teaching as i pretend to be! and then i began to meditate on why i wasn't teaching the OM in my yoga classes. like, the real reason--not the excuses i had spouted to co-teachers, fiends, and students. why was i letting myself get away with this for so long? was i really that shy about singing a single word? was i really that worried about the reactions from my class--the people that come week after week to take a class with me? was i really so scared that i couldn't pull it off?

well, i think the real reason was because moving from intention to action is scary! and even though i had intended to introduce an OM into my regular classes several times over the past couple of years, i had never actually done it. i told myself things like, "oh, there were 4 new people today--way too many to start a new part of our practice" or "i had a bad day at work, i should wait for a day i feel really shiny!" yes, shiny. these are the things i tell myself.

but something happened yesterday. i shifted. the mini revelation, fueled by the smaller instances of awareness, gave me the courage i needed to shift.

i walked into my class last night and began in a similar manner as i normally do. we were on the floor in suptaBK. we moved our arms with our breath. we rocked up to sitting. and then, i surprised the class. i told them tonight was the night we started our class with three OMs. i was honest: i told them i thought it was important for us to begin together, in the same place, on the same note; to be able to feel and experience the community of the class. and i told them i had been nervous to start doing it in my classes, but that it was TIME.


something amazing happened. they giggled with me. they didn't laugh at me. and then they OMed with me--anusara style--quietly, in order to make one voice. to hear one voice. to be one voice.

and it was beautiful.

...and then we moved on. we also closed with an OM, but by then i wasn't scared at all. i had done it! nothing bad had happened! i felt silly for doubting myself and i felt silly for doubting my students. and, when it was all over, i felt better about my class than i could have believed was possible, just because of an OM.

it's only the sound of everything. what'd i expect, really?

but reflecting back on it, a day later, i know it was hard. developing the strength to trust myself in this instance; finding the courage; shifting; moving from intention to action... it was all insanely difficult. but we all have these times, these experiences of contraction. we feel an instant "no" before we can attempt to say "yes." we decide we can't do something for a non-reason.

but now i know. i can do it. YOU can do it. nothing is really as hard as we make it out to be. start from the yes. start from the beginning. start from the OM.

and see where it takes you.