I have always been a bit of a hot house flower- sensitive to changes in my environment and routine, quick to catch whatever cold or flu viruses are floating around, easily fatigued and overwhelmed- physically and emotionally. I have lived with arthritis and chronic fatigue for many years. My increasingly annoying, frequent and persistent catchphrase was "I'm so tired." Maybe it's just my genes. Perhaps it began when I contracted the mono virus when I was just ten years old. Doctors have never been able to give me clear answers- maybe there are none to give- or recommendations that helped. I went through periods of anger and frustration about my condition and finally I think I just resigned myself to believing "this is just how I am and how I feel- deal with it."
In March of 2009 my mother passed away after years of living with emphysema, which restricted her life to smaller and smaller realms, taking more and more of her gifts, abilities and connections to the world and people she loved. After seeing her in chronic discomfort and pain for so long and finally losing her to such a cruel degenerative disease, something in me shifted. I would not just give up on myself and leave myself vulnerable to the degenerative illnesses of age; I would not let this final lesson, this final gift from my mother go unheeded.
My friend, Robin, had been practicing and teaching Bikram yoga for many years and lovingly persisted in telling me about the benefits of regular practice. I believed her. I wanted to- I just couldn't figure out how I could do it. I barely had enough energy to make it through my days as a teacher. I needed 10-12 hours of sleep to recover enough to get through the next day. How could I, after a long school day, drive the 30 minutes to the closest Bikram studio, work through the tough 90 minute yoga routine, drive home- and still have time to unwind from my day and get my requisite hours of sleep?
A year after my mother's death, almost to to day, I pushed aside all of my excuses- all of my real concerns about how I could manage this- and took the first class of what would become my regular practice. After a few classes, I signed-up for a year-long package. I made a year-long commitment to this practice, which, I suspected, after only a few classes, could be the first thing to make a real difference in my health.
I enjoyed the mental challenge with which the teachers framed the practice. Positive and supportive, but unyielding in their rules to "stay in the room," "try harder," "find your edge and hold it," "go past your comfort zone," the teachers and their dialog resonated with me.
After class, when I looked in the mirror, my eyes looked brighter and my skin seemed to glow. After the first few classes, I felt more alert and awake. I felt less exhausted, even though I had pushed and exerted myself through the hot, uncomfortable 90 minutes of postures. I felt lighter somehow- happier. This seemed something more than the endorphin rush of cardiovascular exercise, which for me only lasted a few hours at most. This was a happiness sustained, a contented bliss that stayed with me.
I was hooked.
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