I had a one month follow up at CHLI the other day. It was great to return to the Institute and the Four Seasons and visit with everyone, fill them in on my progress so far, and get back into alignment. My only disappointment was the rainy weather – I would have liked to have taken that 40 minutes between my appointments and the Wellness Kitchen (yes, I stayed for another one – so fun and delicious!) to take a walk around the gorgeous grounds. Oh well. Next time. I’m certain there will be a “next time” hopefully many times. In fact, my first “next time” will probably be in March or April when I’ll return to have statistics done again: the Bod Pod, fasting blood sugar levels, etc. I’ll probably take time at that point to get in a session in the workout room or in an exercise class, and I really enjoyed the benefits of the energy clearing and I may be due for a visit on that as well.
More than anything, I appreciate that the journey continues to feel manageable; my anxiety levels have not spiked since my visit (at least not beyond the range within which I can manage it and not feel the need to eat my way out of it) and I feel confident in my ability to go forward, work through discomfort, re-frame thoughts of failure or difficulty and not allow that to give me an excuse to quit. I feel less afraid (though admittedly not fearless. Let me tell you about the dance class i went to on Tuesday…)
Tuesday, I decided to try this exercise class at a local dance studio that incorporates elements of ballet, palates and yoga (that right there should have fired a warning in my brain.) Its called The Bar Method. It killed me. Sure, I expected it to be challenging, and I was a bit nervous going in. But the girls taking the class were all very nice and I was told it is for all levels – you could adjust to fit your level and ability. Fine. What I didn’t expect was that much of the difficulty came in not being able to keep up with the pace and my inability to figure out what the hell they were doing – the moves and the transitions between moves left me in the dust from the first move. Having no idea what I was going, I would finally figure it out (with the help of the teacher or assistant) when the next move was being introduced. Perhaps for aerobic effect the pace is supposed to say speedy. It left me in an anxious fit of tears. Bless their hearts, the teachers just reminded me to breathe and not once did I detect judgment from them. And bless the hearts of the girls from the class – there was no hiding my tears in the locker room afterwards, and all of them were encouraging and gracious. I managed to get to my car in one piece, but as soon as I was out of the parking lot, I wept, overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy, largeness, failure, embarrassment, sadness. And I allowed myself to cry. My typical alternative would be to eat and be unconscious about it all. Crying meant I was feeling the appropriate feelings and that was what I was supposed to do.
Since I had signed up for a month of unlimited classes (prior to taking my first class – brilliant, huh?) I considered asking for money back or transferring the funds to traditional dance classes. Having never studied ballet nor taken yogo, and struggling with the little palates I’ve done, I thought I may stand a chance at a traditional jazz dance class. Instead, I decided I’d go to this Bar Method class as often as my schedule will let me during this unlimited-access month. Face the discomfort, continue to try and see if I can get better or more comfortable or (dare I say?) enjoy it. The outcome matters less to me than the month long effort to continue to try (though I would really appreciate it if it does get easier and more enjoyable….)
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