In painful times, I turn into a machine. I surge on, and distract myself with activities. It’s easier to distract and avoid than to face the pain dead-on. It’s what I did when I learned my mother had cancer, and it’s what I’m doing now when certain aspects of my life seem to be disintegrating, slipping through my fingertips.
Realizing this tendency to distract and avoid, I’m making a conscious effort to find a little patience and compassion for these necessary emotions.
It’s been awhile since I’ve practiced yoga. And to be honest, I think I was subconsciously avoiding yoga because for me, it brings a lot of emotions to the surface. It’s a looking glass into the depths of my heart and mind. For me, it was infinitely easier to go to the gym, hop on a treadmill, blast Pandora, and let myself go blank. As I write this, I realize the irony in that. It’s a parallel to the treadmill I’ve been on in my life. The avoidance of the moment.
Sitting at my desk and contemplating how I’d spend my evening, my immediate thought was to run. But as I recognized my emotional exhaustion, I realized running isn’t the answer. I’m trying to run away, when I need to get on the mat and face my emotions. Feel them fully. It’s the only way I can release them. I may cry, I may feel anger and discomfort, but this is the work of my life.
Isn’t it a Lumineers song that says:
It’s better to feel pain, than nothing at all..
I have to say, i think i agree.