These Are The Things I’ve Been Thinking About Since Starting to Teach Yoga

Before I started my yoga teacher training in the fall of 2017, I actively avoided back bends and heart opening poses. Bridge? I’ll just do restorative. Wheel? Oh, no I can’t, it hurts my wrist. Or camel? I think I will take child’s pose instead. At that time, if you asked me why I avoided these poses I would tell you I had no idea, I just did not like them; I did not like how they made me feel, and I did not feel motivated to work through that.

Then came teacher training, and I was in a room with bendy, flexible, inspirational yogis that appeared to thrive at the opportunity to do back bends of all types. This led me to feel I had to do them, not to prove anything to anybody, but so that I didn’t come across as lazy or unwilling. So when camel was called I got to my knees, put my hands at my lower back and leaned. I leaned farther than I ever have and I felt something open in me physically and emotionally, probably also spiritually but at the time I was in no place to identify that. During this, I was just worried about either falling backwards onto my head, or being permanently stuck in this pose that I found so uncomfortable and embarrassing myself.

I bent backwards and I cried. I cried in almost every back bend that was cued during my 200 hour teacher training. Now, almost a year and a half later, I often continue to cry as I move through my own practice, at my own pace.

Prior to this training, I was pretty well versed in the chakras and in the spiritual and emotional effects each energy source has on the body. I was, and still am, able to open up and balance these energy fields for others and for myself, when I allow myself the time and space to do so. I, however, was unaware of the impact pure and simple asanas can have on each chakra, and therefore on emotions as they impact the whole body.

I vividly remember the section of training dedicated to the chakras, and learning of samskara. At this time, I told myself I would break my patterns, change old habits and open up to all that is offered to me; I began to do backbends regardless of my resistance towards them from moment to moment. Though I do struggle to come out of wheel due to wrist discomfort, I told myself to still try it each class. And even when my legs are shaky and I don’t believe in my body’s own power, I told myself to lift my hips for bridge, if only for a second.

Back bends are heart opening poses, as well as postures that open the throat. While pressing shoulders back and chest forward, your body is in a very vulnerable state, one that is often uncomfortable for those who have a hard time loving themselves or others, or accepting love freely. It can be a challenge for those struggling to express themselves through words, or creatively. And these poses can cause unease for individuals that have a hard time identifying or showing others their own authenticity.

Knowing this, I can speak to where I was at during that time in my life. I was, admittedly, pretty closed off to showing love, to receiving love and to expressing myself in any way, shape or form. I would journal, I would say the words “I love you” to others (except friends) and I would hug many people, often; but this was not enough. At this point, I was working through making healthy choices, removing myself from negative influences and practicing what I preach. But I was not truly doing the work needed to feel these emotions that had been disregarded for so long. I was just going through the metaphorical motions, since I refused to do move my body into these intense opening poses.

So, less than a month in to teacher training I finally spoke what was in my heart to those around me. I said words I had been waiting to say and I took action that was long overdue. And I opened up. I opened into bridge, into wheel and up through camel. I exposed my heart and my throat and, like I said, I cried. I cried alone and I cried in public. I cried a lot during these four months and I believe this would have happened with, or without, my heart and throat opening poses; however, I believe these back bends provided me what was necessary for this.

Bridge pose, Setu Bandha Sarvangasana, provided me with the freedom to explore my end goals. It allowed me the security to know it was safe to open up, and that I could return to restorative, or return to the floor with ease when needed.

Wheel pose, Urdhva Dhanurasana, taught me that while uncomfortable, opening is worth it. It is beneficial to expose yourself on occasion, in the right place at the right time, because it is beautiful and dangerous and rewarding. This posture opened my eyes and my heart to receive that same love in return, and to understand how powerful and breathtaking this can be.

And Ustrasana, camel, allowed me to recognize that vulnerability is necessary in any type of growth and change and progress in life. This brought my attention to my desires and awareness to the steps I needed to take to get where I want to in the end, but also to appreciate the journey along the way.

So, as I continue to teach yoga and to practice therapy and to grow in my life and goals overall, I bring myself back to this time in my life. I remind myself of teacher training and all the lessons that come with each pose, on and off the mat. I make an effort to convey this to those in my life I encounter in whatever way my path crosses theirs.

On this mother’s day weekend, I thank my mother for unknowingly reminding me of this over this last week. When she was the only one present in my class this week, we took time to work on back bends. I was able to break down each pose and work through my own returning discomfort as a reminder to be aware, to be present and to be open in all ways possible.

This Is What I Thought About

I’ve been doing 4-5 yoga classes a week for the last four, almost five, weeks now. It has been both good, and it has been a challenge. But, the other afternoon I had the hardest time I have had in a while.

I got to class ready to go, I set up my mat, slathered myself in oils and laid out my crystals. I then made my way into supta baddha konasana. My body crashed. I felt gravity pulling my knees towards the mat and opening up my hips, I felt my spine lengthen and flatten against the floor and my head grew heavy as I waited for the instructor to appear in the front of the room.

The teacher arrived, she greeted the class in standard form and sounded motivating enough, however, I felt as if my consciousness floated away and hovered about two feet above my tired limbs. My body was a 200 pound weight that I just could not find the strength to move. “Find down dog,” she said. And I obliged. Move through Sun As. I did. Sun Bs. And I pushed. Then, I took child’s pose as my body gave up.

I laid on my mat for most of the 75 minutes. I skipped vitality, equanimity and grounding. I attempted igniting, managing one locust; but my poor, tired muscles screamed and ached as if they were saying to me, “stop this, stop this right now! You absolutely cannot handle this.” I rested through opening and even release. And finally, I found my own relief in viparita karani and then savansana.

It is now Thursday, Friday eve, and I am wobbling as I walk to the Keurig to make my coffee. My arms and my legs are shaking as I bend down to pet my beloved cats. I have done too much, yet again. Whether out of fear, pure stubbornness, or ignorance, I am unsure. Either way, I have done too much.

So, I let this be a reminder to myself, to others, to listen. Really, really listen to what my body is saying and when it is truly speaking. Listen to when my brain says I owe these people compassion; well, where is my own self-compassion. Listen to my body when my legs say, “don’t walk on us, we are unsure we can hold you;” where is my strength to rest. Listen when my soul is unable to connect, or to focus; where then, is my concern. Listen. Just listen.

Listen, so that in the end I can continue to show up for others and for myself first. So that after a long day I can take a bath for pleasure, not as a coping skill. So that on a Friday I can feel prepared and ready for a weekend of choosing yoga, choosing coffee with my boyfriend and spending time choosing to rebuild connections. Listen. So that I can choose how to manage my disease and my challenges. So that I can feel sane and fulfilled despite what my body is telling me.

Skip forward a few days and today is the last day of the 5^th week of this 6 week commitment I made to myself and to yoga. After listening to my body the past two days, I feel better emotionally. I feel, not so better physically, but that comes with have a chronic disease. However, I do feel more motivated to listen to my body every single day moving forward, not just on days where it crashes. I feel more prepared to plan for each week and to plan more accordingly each week. I am more optimistic about what this last week of 40 days will bring me, and I plan to practice each balancing pose in hopes that it will return the balance to my life that I am so often searching for. A friend joked once that we often rest during the balance section of class because our lives lack that balance; from my perspective, she was not wrong. So, while I re-learn to listen, really listen to my own body I will continue to attend yoga and to rest when I need it, and I will balance in yoga and in life, when I need it.

This Is What I Have Been Thinking About

Recently I was playing a game with my boyfriend, step-father and mother and it was great and fun and all of the things you’d expect out of a family game. And one card that we drew challenged your partner to identify one thing they think you are proud of. My step dad said that I should be proud of choosing to live every day strong, with MS.

I argued this.

I stated I don’t feel proud of it because I don’t have a choice but to live with MS. I don’t have a choice but to wake up, put on my shoes and go to work no matter how heavy my legs feel, how blurry my vision is, or how numb my torso is. I don’t have a choice but to attend brunches my friends coordinate, or to play a game with my boyfriend even though he likes staying up late and I much prefer Netflix in bed at 9 (who am I kidding, I prefer bedtime at 8) despite aching limbs and tingly extremities. I don’t feel I have a choice in going to yoga or going for a walk, even when I am so nauseas even the slightest movement is treacherous. I have never seen MS as a choice.

For me, I did not have the luxury of choosing which chronic illness I have, or choosing which medication would make life more manageable for me. I did not have a choice in how this disease took away my eye sight or my confidence in living my daily life. So again, for me, I did not have a choice in continuing to do the things that allow me some sense of sanity. I don’t have a choice but to go to work when I am dizzy, because I don’t want to depend on another person to support me, house me, and feed me (even though I’d love to eat my mother’s and grandmother’s cooking daily). I don’t have a choice to turn down social events, because without them I would feel isolated, sad and lost. I don’t have a choice but to stay up late on occasion for Michael because he does so much for me, I can risk a lazy day following a night of attempting to learn Mario Kart. I don’t have a choice but to attend yoga, or to ride a bike, or to walk when it’s nice out, because if I don’t I fear I won’t be able to walk again.

So, when my kind, caring, supportive step-father tells me I should be proud I smile and I am grateful. I smile and know I should be proud, but that if I get caught up in that pride, I slip. I get complacent and I allow myself to wallow in self-pity, dread and loneliness.

In February I am thinking about loving myself before others

I didn’t post in January. Well, I did but it didn’t show up. I actually had two pieces written and there is a clear and obvious reason why the universe decided they should not be in the cyber world for all to see. Those two posts were written in haste, they were written for the sake of writing and they were not true to me; they were not who I am and what I wish to convey to the world.

So, happy February! Some would say this is the month of love and hearts and everything pink and red and chocolate and sappy movies and fancy dinners. Which is true, and such may be the case for many, many people; however, I am choosing to focus on loving myself. Of course I’ll honor my boyfriend and get him a cheesecake of some sort (surprise Mike), but I also need to show myself that same love and get myself my favorite desert as well.

Self-love is tricky, it always has been and often continues to be that thing I strive for in my own life. It is 2019 and I am 29 and my desire for self-love started when I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. At 18 most kids are still trying to navigate themselves and navigate their own lives and life courses, much as I was. Then throw in a potential debilitating disease and be told you will not walk, and not have children. And, cue journey towards acceptance and self-love.

This journey was not easy while I was young. I was in college, I was learning to live with pain and with fatigue and with one eye functioning at 100% and the other, well, not so much. So I focused on material things and surface level interests. I got my nails done, I got my hair done regularly (it helped that I worked in a salon). I watched the popular things on TV, and I did well in school because I was supposed to. I had a boyfriend, because, well I was 18, 19 then 21 and thought that’s what would make me feel complete (fun fact, it didn’t). I went through this for a few years then I decided to move away from all of the things I was used to, and that I was comfortable with. I moved to Michigan for a year to live by myself and to go to school for something I was truly passionate about and interested in.

It was in this year that I learned the most about myself and about who I am and how to care for that person. I made friends, friends I truly enjoyed, a couple of which I still chat with often. But I was in a strange city, in a strange stated and alone. I was very much alone a lot of the time. For the first time in my life I was alone. And not just physically alone, but emotionally alone. I was bored and I was lonely and I was anxious because I now had to recognize my own thoughts and feelings and wants and goals. And it was sad, and it was scary and it was life changing.

At the end of that year, in August 2013, I felt the most confident that I had ever felt. I felt the healthiest emotionally and physically that I had ever felt and I felt happy, truly happy. And I thought I was involved with someone who could mirror that, and who could enhance that happiness. He did, I was not entirely wrong, at first.

I will not rehash and old relationship and I will not allow my mind to travel back there, but what I will say is that it was unhealthy, it was awful and it played a role in my being unable to love myself the way I, and everybody in the world, should be free to do. But in this chaos is where I found yoga, and where I discovered Reiki.

Yoga was something I had tried briefly, but for lack of a genuine understanding of the art, I never followed through and I was unable to take it seriously. One day I was at work, chatting with a lovely friend and another co-worker told us about her experience in a three week session learning the basics of yoga, and learning to allow herself to be free to care for the person she is. So this friend of mine and I decided (partly due to our co-dependency, which we have since worked on, and partly due to anxiety) to try this new thing together. So we signed up, we paid 25 dollars and we started our yoga practice. I started my self-love journey over again, and am grateful for each person that helped me along on that journey, and each person who showed me which way to turn and which path to take.

Yoga is something that, for me, is beneficially physically; it is a work out I can do on my bad MS days, it is a work out I can do without feeling insecure or questioning if it is worth it. MS is big and it is scary and it has told me I cannot exercise the way I would like, or the way others do. But through yoga, MS has told me I can do what I want, and I can rest, and I can love what my body is capable of.

Yoga is something that, for me, is emotionally beneficial; it allows me a place to feel and to heal. Yoga provides a safe space, whether in a studio, at home, or with friends, for me to recognize what I feel and to release it. I have had many good “yoga cries,” especially in most hip opening poses. When I teach I preach this (hopefully not in an obnoxious way). I have learned, through half pigeon and the dreaded frog pose, to love each emotion I experience and to appreciate it for what it is doing for me. I learned that without happy cries, and without sad cries, I would be unable to love myself.

Yoga is something that, for me, has opened up my third eye, it has taught me a spiritual practice and it has led me to self-love. I grew up Catholic and Methodist, I grew up with a belief in God and an appreciation for prayer. However, I did not connect with this and felt unable to be authentic in my religion. Yoga taught me about my higher power as a whole, yoga taught me to meditate, and yoga taught me to create my own spiritual rituals and routines (again, I thank my supportive boyfriend for smelling sage weekly, letting me slather him in oils and tripping over crystals that the cats believe to be new toys). In these practices and intentions I have learned peace, I have moved towards acceptance and I have gained in my journey of self-love.

Now, add in Reiki. My poor mother practiced Reiki and I ran as far away from that as I was able; not because I didn’t believe in it but because I was not ready. Now, in my life I feel I would be lost, or incomplete without this ancient practice. Rei means life force, and ki means energy, Reiki is life force energy channeling your body’s natural abilities to heal itself emotionally, physically and spiritually. Tell me that is not right up my alley? I learned to practice this technique in the spring of 2017 and utilize it almost daily on myself. It brings me out of anxiety attacks, it helps soothe me to sleep and it helps me rationalize most of my otherwise irrational thinking.

I began to share this ability with others, with friends at work, for a friend before her wedding, for new clients I have met along the way. In sharing this I realized it is my passion and my goal. It is my “side hustle” (oh that’s weird to say, even for me, but I will not edit it out) and I am truly enjoying this part of my journey to self-love.

So, while I have slipped away from my regular spiritual practices, and am planning to return to a more reliable yoga practice, I have still managed to practice self-love from the lessons learned since 2008. I still take baths, I still nuzzle my kittens, when they allow, and I still eat healthy.

I think my biggest lesson in January, and the reason I was unable to post anything, is that self-love does not go away. The things you have learned stay with you, and the routines you have created are not lost in the chaos of life. The things you have learned can be called upon as quickly as you’re willing to allow, and the routines can come back when you make the time, put in the effort and believe yourself deserving of this love, this powerful beautiful and chaotic self-love.

These Are The Things I Thought About Last Week

I have been wanting to write about the guilt that comes with self-care for a while, but was struggling with how to initiate that, or how to word in a way that I felt comfortable with. Today, I finally feel ready.

In my real life I am a therapist, specifically for addictions. It is a job I fell into, and a job I grew passionate about. A job I often question, and hope I am capable of doing out of respect for the craft, and also out of respect for those in need. Sometimes, I feel I have grown accustomed to the large amounts of sadness, anger and pain I hear about daily; and often wonder if I have lost my ability to feel.

Then today, I learned of a patient death. This phone call I had with another individual will stay heavy with me for a long, long time. I also learned I am still capable, and still able to feel and to grieve. And to help.

Others, and myself.

Due to the amazing support in my life and the self-care routine I have created; I was able to go home to practice healthy emotional expression and request what I need in terms of self-care. So, tonight my self-care is crying as friend hugs me (being mindful that this best friend of mine and I only hug when we’ve had wine and now apparently when one of us is crying), cancelling a yoga practice because I cannot think of the words to say, and eating junk food on my couch with girlfriends.

But I can’t help but feel guilt. Guilt for leaving work early, guilt for cancelling what is now a regular weekly yoga class that I very much look forward to; and guilt for texting others about my own vulnerability and sadness. Which leads me to think of other times I feel guilty about self-care.

Cancelling plans because I don’t feel well, or just because I am feeling better off being home. Taking a bath instead of working out. Setting boundaries with those I love because I am not able to do what they require. Eating half a pizza instead of salad. These are all important, self-care oriented things that are so hard to do, especially as a social, healthy individual. But these actions are all imperative to my own sanity and my own physical health.

So, what helps that feeling of guilt, or even of shame, when trying to make good choices? For me, talking about it. Explaining my choices to those I feel I am letting down is helpful. But also, continuing with a regular self-care routine is helpful. Oftentimes, I need to literally write self-care on my schedule or planner to avoid overscheduling, or avoid some guilt in having to cancel plans. I have learned that if I plan at least one to two days per week to focus on my own self-care in some capacity, not so much of it will be required on the other days.

Bearing in mind that self-care is not always fun, elaborate things. For me it is also taking my medications each day, calling my family members regularly, and making sure I am caring for my cats as they deserve.

I am not the be all and end all for everything that is self-care. I know nothing of importance on the topic, however, I notice I feel better when I do what works for me, despite the guilt I feel on occasion. Maybe I am writing this to hold myself more accountable and to allow myself to let go of that guilt, or maybe I am writing this because I have nothing else to do while I wait for friends to get here. Who knows.

But whatever the reason is I want others to understand that guilt is normal, and that it is okay. What matters when it comes to that guilt is how it is managed, or how it is dealt with. Here’s a page from my book. My top 5 self-care activities;

Take a bath that literally feels like soaking in lava, with bath bombs and salts and bubbles and all the extravagance
Do yoga, walk, ride a bike; any sort of movement (not too much though or else I get cranky)
A wonderfully frothy, non-dairy (preferably lavender) latte
Meal prepping for each week. It is stupid, mundane and uneventful, but it is the most helpful thing I can do for myself
Wine with girlfriends. This is more therapeutic and more cathartic than anything else I can think of

This all being said. I am going to go order a pizza guilt free and look forward to next weekend’s birthday celebrations for a dear friend. And maybe fit in some yoga.

The Things I Think About in December

Having a chronic illness is not super fun. Having a chronic illness in December is particularly less fun, especially when your birthday is also in December.

December is snow (in most places) covered trees, while it is still peaceful and pretty in the morning. December is a plethora of evergreen trees, an over-abundance of cookies, and extra exciting social gatherings. December is holidays, full meals, extra money spent and many, many extra ways to show love and support to others.

I love December, and I love Christmastime and I love holidays and the social, family and intimate gatherings that come about this time of year. But I do not love December with Multiple Sclerosis; bear with me, this post will be pretty MS heavy but I’ll end on a positive note.

The first thing I think about is how my body has this wonderful inability to regulate its own temperature, which leaves me either shivering or sweating, there is no in between. I dress in layers and either wear a tank or the biggest, fluffiest sweaters. So, again, I thank my lovely boyfriend for turning up the heat when he knows I’ll be home early and for sleeping through my fits of rage as I wake up in the middle of the night and violently throw the blankets to the floor. This makes December, and the following winter months, a challenge.

Along with this dysregulation comes an increase in pain. So, the second thing I often think about is this: I have never stuck a paperclip in an outlet but my arms and legs often feel as if I had (well what I imagine it to feel like). I feel as if every single nerve in my body is misfiring and that, my friends, is no fun. And a third thing I have to think about is the fatigue.

Extreme exhaustion that comes with chronic illness, an exhaustion so intense that I need to rest after waking up because the act of sitting upright is too much. Exhaustion that makes the thought of all the hustle and bustle of the season terrifying. Don’t get me wrong, I love doing all the things that are required of December and of Christmas, but I often worry I will be too worn out, or I won’t feel well; which will then take away from the holiday cheer.

Which leads me to my next thoughts during this time. Guilt. Guilt around not being able to give as many gifts as I would like. Or guilt around the fact that I am tired, or don’t feel well and cannot do as much as I would like. Or guilt around my own insecurities and eating all the things I know will make me struggle. For a time so cheery, there is a lot to worry about, whether necessary or not.

So, because of all this I focus the most on self-care during the months of December through February, or even into March. But, it’s the boring self-care. It’s the self-care that involves taking my medicine on time every day, and forcing myself to drink enough water each day; and listening to my boyfriend when he says I should chug a glass of water before my ritual morning coffee. It’s the self-care that reminds me to bathe even when the simple act of standing for 15 minutes appears so daunting; the self-care that tells me to make sure we have gotten to Wegmans prior to the weekend in order to eat some things of our own choosing. It’s the self-care that says even when I am in a lot of pain, if I can at least do three or four yoga poses, I will be okay. And it’s the self-care that reminds me to talk to people, to tell them how I feel, to listen to how they are doing and to work actively to respond.

Self-care is hard. But it is these simple acts that make December, and this time of year more enjoyable and more fulfilling. It is absolutely the extravagant baths at night, and a glass of wine with dinner on Sundays, it can be a massage on your birthday and extra fries with dinner, but those wonderful, loving acts are not sustainable. Those things do not help me in the day-to-day, though I absolutely wish I could live on bath bombs and Riesling.

I am learning more and more that I need routine and I need structure to help on those days where there is no routine. On those days that are full of family and full of fun, I know I will be okay because the other days have been so helpful. I am learning that it is okay to say no to plans, despite the guilt it brings, as long as it means I will be able to care for myself in ways others may not understand. I am learning that it is okay to share how you feel, despite that guilt and that fear, if it means I will be able to have meaningful conversations moving forward. And I am also learning that MS sucks, but I am allowed to ask for support and lean on those around me, especially during this time of year.

MS aside, everybody could probably benefit from daily humdrum and simple self-care but, I am not sure what those without MS need, or even want, to help when inevitably the holidays sneak up so quickly. All I know is that in order for me to truly be present and genuinely experience the love and magic of December and of Christmas, I need to focus on me more often than not. I need to hold myself accountable to practice more self-care daily, despite how boring it may be. And in doing so, I am reminded how wonderful Christmas is with all of the love and the kindness I am so very fortunate to have around me.

So, due to my renewed love of self-care I have been able to entertain amazing humans at my home, I have been able to decorate, though minimally, ( because I do not trust my feline friends) and I have been able to say yes to every invitation and prepare adequately for the delicious meals to come. Because of this self-care I can wake up each day and know I will manage and know that I have the time to rest if necessary. And since I am able to be present and stay grounded I know this Christmas will most likely be my favorite one yet.

The Skills I have To Think About

Recently, I was reminded that over ten years ago now, I was put in a place where I needed to have a strong sense of myself, of my body and of what it tells me. I have honed in on that skill and have learned to trust it and to trust myself. This skill has come about to protect my physical health. However, that is not always the easiest thing to do, or to want to do.

I have also developed a skill where I am able to pretend that I feel okay, or even good, when in reality my legs are failing me and I cannot comprehend a simple sentence. That skill was created to preserve my mental health.

And these are the things I have to think about; when to use which skill and how long do I go before I talk about how I am feeling, or in the case of MS, not feeling.

It is November 18 and I had hoped to post sooner, but life happens. And a lot has happened in my life in the past 6 months that I am now able to reflect on. I can see how the craziness and business of adulthood has impacted me. Throughout the summer I had two amazing friends get married, so that meant bridal showers and bachelorette parties and planning and practicing and dressing up and dancing and eating and so much celebration.

Along with the amazing festivities came a new-ish relationship, two overactive, but wonderful, cats, a lovely vacation with my mother, moving and all around adulthood. Even just happily reminiscing makes me tired.

In participating in all of these things, I was and continue to be incredibly grateful to have been able to experience each and every breathtaking moment. However, this is where the skill of listening comes into play. Thank God I have had ten years to perfect this, or else the last six months would have ended in disaster. When there were things to do on a Saturday, it was guaranteed Friday and Sunday we’re left open for rest and recovery. And when there were events on Sundays, you can bet the rest of the week I had no plans, or no responsibilities.

This sounds like I would be planning accordingly to accommodate an insane hangover, that one can assume would come along with so much excitement. Nope. That is not the type of recovery I am talking about (though there may have been extra wine consumed here and there). My recovery involves more than greasy food and some Advil. My recovery involves limited walking to ensure the weakness in my legs subsides enough to return to work on Monday. My recovery involves healthy foods, to confirm I will be able to eat comfortably for the rest of the week. And my recovery means warm baths and judgment free naps in order to have my vision cooperate and my cognitive abilities up to par.

But I don’t share this for pity. I write this to express things I cannot otherwise say. I write this to vocalize the things I have to think about.

Don’t get me wrong, there are and certainly were bad days during all of the fun (I actually believe I had my first flare up in four years). But as I mentioned before, I have also worked to improve upon my skill of pretending I feel good. This skill is more for my benefit than for others. If I pretend I feel good then I don’t have to go home, and I don’t have to miss out on these life things. When I pretend I feel good I have fun and I am happy, opposed to sitting home bored watching another murder show, or learning how to make another dish on Food Network, that I can guarantee I’ll never make in my real life.

Actually, I am writing about this because for the first time in a long time, a couple weeks ago I was unable to pretend that I felt good any longer and I had to leave; I went home to watch a favorite show to help preserve what I could of my sanity. My wonderful, talented boyfriend had a show and I wanted to hang out after with him and some friends but I could not. I could not bring myself to do it. I did not feel well and my brain, right away entered into some weird emotional power struggle thinking: do I pretend versus do I listen to my body. Listening won, I went home early and nobody was upset, except for me. So I challenged myself and I was honest. I was honest with myself and with others.

In this honesty, I realized, it is okay, and I do not have to do it all, despite feeling a need to be present at everything all the time. This moment, or the day following it since it was very late and very much past my bedtime, reminded me of lessons I learned ten years ago when I was 18 and diagnosed with MS.

I am a priority as much as anybody else in my life. I am allowed to care for and to protect my health, emotional and physical, and I am entitled to do so in whatever means necessary. So, as I approach my 29^th year I am grateful to go into it inspired to return to my version of self-care. I am excited to return to my own practices that feel right for me, regardless of what others think or are doing. I am read to practice saying not and putting what I want, or need, first on occasion.

I admire my friends for running, especially in the snow, but I don’t have to do that just because they do, in fact cardio makes me angry. I am in awe of my friends for following their dreams, but I don’t have to have the same dreams, though I once thought I did. I am grateful for family for following whatever path they need to in order to have their needs met, but I don’t have to walk that path with them, which does not mean I do not support them. And I am honored to have encouragement in my relationship, but I know I cannot reciprocate if I do not cheer myself on as well.

So, it took a few bad days to remember what brings me peace and what brings me sanity. It took some phone calls to the doctor and some unwanted rest days to bring me back to a place of contentment and inspiration. And it took my honesty and my perception of what I felt was admitting defeat to learn that it is okay to rest, and it is okay to ask for help. Moving forward I plan to return to rest and to return to what I know will create a place for me that allows for continued listening to my body so that I don’t have to pretend I am okay, I will actually be okay and feel good.