Thing Fifteen: Year of Yoga

Happy yoga-versary to me!

I can’t believe it’s been a full year since my first class at Coolidge Corner Yoga. In keeping with the “new things” theme, it’s the first time I’ve stuck to a workout class consistently. I think it’s because there’s a depth to yoga that doesn’t exist in other types of classes— yes, I’m building strength and flexibility, but I’m also gaining mindfulness and serenity.

I really had to push myself to go to my first class. I’ve said this a million times and I’ll say it again: I do not like being perceived. I didn’t like the idea of having other people’s eyes on me while I struggled to hold poses, and I didn’t want to be constantly comparing my body to theirs. But the first class immediately debunked the stories I was telling myself about how it would go. I’ve been attending the Community Flow class, an affordable drop-in option that eliminates the pressure of an expensive monthly membership. The class attracts people of all ages and experience levels, so my fear of being the odd duck in a room full of lithe pros was irrational.

My main motivation for starting this journey a year ago was to gain a greater sense of community. It was my first step in a series of putting-myself-out-there moves once I realized I was protecting my peace a bit too much. During a phase when most of my weekends were devoid of plans, it gave me a sense of purpose and a place to be every Sunday. I felt a warm glow the first time my instructor greeted me by name; it made me feel like part of a community, exactly what I was seeking. It reminded me of the first time the Dunkin worker in my hometown remembered my order— the familiarity of becoming a regular.

Amongst all the new things I’ve discovered and tried over the past year, my favorites are the ones that keep me off my phone. I feel like the pendulum has swung— kids these days (haha) request screentime, but I’m craving screen-free time. Time on devices is used as a reward for them, a special treat like dessert, but nowadays it’s the phone-free time that feels like an indulgence to me. I relish the feeling of stowing away my bag before each yoga class, knowing that for the next hour, I’m free from the temptation of mindless scrolling.

Not every class has been perfect. It’s a challenge sometimes to turn down the volume of my racing thoughts. As someone with misophonia, I can be distracted and frustrated by the sounds of people breathing heavily, which is pretty commonplace in a yoga class. On one particularly challenging day, I had my first panic attack in a long time, clawing my way out of the class in tears. It took a lot of bravery to go back and grab my things when the class ended; I wanted to run from the studio, even though I wouldn’t have been able to get very far without my phone, keys, and wallet. But I’ll never forget the sweet encounters I had that day: an older woman saying “feel what you need to feel, honey” and the teacher hugging me for as long as I needed to slow down my breathing.

After that experience, I was nervous to go back to class the next week— it felt like my safe space lost its protective bubble. But in the end, my love of routine and predictability won out. I didn’t want to lose the sense of familiarity I had built. I also didn’t want to let the disordered parts of my brain win. So I kept going, and I haven’t looked back. I look forward to every class, knowing it’ll bring me a sense of peace and groundedness.

I think the biggest win of all is that yoga has made me feel more comfortable in my body. Every Sunday, this sack of skin that I pick apart and complain about is recontextualized into something I feel proud of. There’s no mirror in the room, so there’s no temptation to critique or compare my form. I have to rely on the way I feel: the satisfaction of pushing a tiny bit deeper into pigeon pose, the heat and power in my core in a high plank, the stretch in my calves as I push my heels down in downward dog. At the end of every class, as we wind down in shavasana, I try to shut out all the thoughts that fight for urgency and just think to myself, “I’m grateful for this body and everything it can do.”