on letting things change you.

i look at the clock a lot while i’m at yoga. i don’t do this because i want the class to end. i’d like nothing more than to sit on my $15 navy and white-striped j.crew clearance mat and focus on my breath (unless i start to wheeze like i did last night. thank you allergies/asthma/unstable chicago weather.) i constantly check the clock because my favorite part comes at the end of class, shavasna. sometimes those are the best fifteen minutes of my week. i called it vinyasa a few weeks ago; thanks for not calling me out, yogis.

it’s very "simple." you’re supposed to lie on your back, close your eyes, and focus on your breath. you’re supposed to be still and not think. last night, i kept starting out the window. and thinking. this is what i do.

i didn't have a running to-do list in my head this time. i just stared at the sky as the sun started to set, noticing how pink the parts were that i could see.

the days are getting longer. summer is coming. things could settle down a bit, if you let them.

very few things in this world make me slow down enough to not think.

i’m going to keep trying to relax.

i’m going to keep trying to relax. so ridiculous. i know it’s not a coincidence that the teacher makes eye contact with me when he talks about ego getting in the way and how stress consumes us. note to self: listen to the teacher and stop opening your eyes.

stop scoffing at the guy who comes late every week and sits in front of molly and breathes in and out like a wind tunnel. stop silently judging the minnie driver look-alike who was almost thirty! minutes late last night. you aren't in that class for those people. but the thing is , these people come late and bust out the moves like it's their job. i sit in the back of the room and curse. myself, my arms, the instructor, and the women more than twice my age who move like water.

i want to be those women. i'll get there one day. i have faith that i will get there. this faith comes from the moment i stop fighting myself and do the pose the way it should be, the way that won't make me feel pain. those seventy-five minutes are slowly, very slowly paring down the pain in my life.

i just need to remember to let them do that for me.

"i'm determined to love it. i'm going to love it." i told my friend mark at work this morning.

"honey, you're wound a bit tighter than others. it takes time." he said.

yoga brings awareness. it brings calm and quiet, what are those?, so people can feel focused. and centered. as type a and tracy flick as i am about things, i rarely feel calm. i am wound, very tightly, but i'm trying to work on that. i have the awareness that i need to change this about me. and this awareness is everything.