Fucking Yoga: How PMS Works To My Advantage
*This will be a long one; go get a snack first before settling in.
When I became a teenager, any time I got passionately upset about anything, my mother would infuriate me by asking if I was about to get my period. I think that's an outrageously rude question, because it discounts the validity of someone's feelings. In second grade when Geraldine Ferraro was running for .... something (VP?), I recall a class discussion about whether or not a woman should be president, because, what if she got PMS and because of that, decided to bomb a country? It offended me then, and still does.
Last week, when I had PMS, I cursed at one person, screamed in the house when nobody else was home, cried three times, and confronted three people about things they were doing that upset me or were wrong. I can't say I welcome PMS with open arms, but I do appreciate that it .... encourages me to speak my mind about situations where I'm either being taken advantage of or not getting all that I want.
I cried at work because I was trying to do something difficult which had been dumped on me at the last minute after someone else had specifically come to me, asking that she do it. Then, when trying to concentrate and sort out all the details, I was continuously interrupted by people reminding me of our deadline and asking if I needed help. I needed to be left the fuck alone so I could concentrate, and I ultimately said just that to the secretary who'd dumped the project in my lap. The next day I confronted her about doing that, and apologized for cursing. We agreed to start over and all that shit, but since then she has dumped other things in my lap, and I think that's just her M.O.
I screamed and cried alone at home in frustration with 9am's continual inability to clean up kitchen counters. It is not right that when I walk into the kitchen I have to throw out his napkins, move his fruit, his water, and then clean off bread crumbs, all before I can start using counters. That night I confronted him and told him I would like to keep the kitchen cleaner than we have been, and asked him to help me with that. His eyes got wide in surprise, but he assured me he would certainly do his part, promptly emptied the garbage, and apparently considered his part finished. We will be having another talk.
If I were going to rate myself at yoga, it would be as either an advanced beginner or a beginning intermediate. But the class I'm in, which is the easiest one they offer, is one where people are often balancing on one hand. The yogi I have most often caters to these advanced people, leaving people like me in the dust. Generally you're supposed to give a modified option to those who can't do a yoga move, which he wasn't doing. At one point, he even waived his hand and said, "If you need to modify ... you know how." Umm.... judging from all the other people who sat back on their knees and waited, I don't think so.
It was really frustrating me. I was spending so much time throughout the class waiting for him to call out a move I could do. Easily 50% of the class, which is ridiculous. I was wasting my time. I wasn't getting all I felt I should out of the classes he was leading. And then I cried all through naptime. I just laid there with tears pouring down my cheeks, unable to stop. It took every ounce of self control to not get up and walk out. When class was over, I went up to the yogi and asked if he had a minute. When he said he did, I borrowed a line from Rachel on Friends, and apologized in advance if I cried. And then I proceeded to cry all the way through our talk.
He started with, "I know what you're going to say." Oh really. "What?" I asked him. "You're going to say I don't adjust you enough," he told me. "Actually you don't, but that wasn't what I was going to say." He seemed surprised, and got a little defensive when I listed my grievances. He told me that he takes a long time to warm up to people, and appreciates that I spoke with him. That in the past he's had women in his class who are older or overweight and when he's gone to adjust them, they get upset, which is why he hasn't come to me. That's right, he just called me fat. I looked him straight in the eye, and stopped blubbering enough to tell him, "I'm not like that. I want you to help me do it perfectly. I feel like I'm completely floundering and not getting all I should be out of the classes when I'm not getting any direction at all." He agreed to do that. We hugged it out, because it's yoga, and that's how we roll in yoga.
Last night was the first time I went back to one of his classes since our talk. I was nervous because I (wrongly) equate crying with complete failure. When he saw me, he smiled apprehensively. I'm sure he worried I'd cry on him again. But I knew I wouldn't. And I didn't. He kept his word by giving more direction, and I sweated more than usual. He gets annoyed when I don't remember every single little thing he's ever told me in previous classes, but if he teaches long enough, he'll learn that students simply don't learn everything they're taught. After class I thanked him, and said I felt like I got a lot more out of this class than the past ones. Walking home I felt like pure liquid (this is a good thing), and I'm psyched to go back tonight.
When I became a teenager, any time I got passionately upset about anything, my mother would infuriate me by asking if I was about to get my period. I think that's an outrageously rude question, because it discounts the validity of someone's feelings. In second grade when Geraldine Ferraro was running for .... something (VP?), I recall a class discussion about whether or not a woman should be president, because, what if she got PMS and because of that, decided to bomb a country? It offended me then, and still does.
Last week, when I had PMS, I cursed at one person, screamed in the house when nobody else was home, cried three times, and confronted three people about things they were doing that upset me or were wrong. I can't say I welcome PMS with open arms, but I do appreciate that it .... encourages me to speak my mind about situations where I'm either being taken advantage of or not getting all that I want.
I cried at work because I was trying to do something difficult which had been dumped on me at the last minute after someone else had specifically come to me, asking that she do it. Then, when trying to concentrate and sort out all the details, I was continuously interrupted by people reminding me of our deadline and asking if I needed help. I needed to be left the fuck alone so I could concentrate, and I ultimately said just that to the secretary who'd dumped the project in my lap. The next day I confronted her about doing that, and apologized for cursing. We agreed to start over and all that shit, but since then she has dumped other things in my lap, and I think that's just her M.O.
I screamed and cried alone at home in frustration with 9am's continual inability to clean up kitchen counters. It is not right that when I walk into the kitchen I have to throw out his napkins, move his fruit, his water, and then clean off bread crumbs, all before I can start using counters. That night I confronted him and told him I would like to keep the kitchen cleaner than we have been, and asked him to help me with that. His eyes got wide in surprise, but he assured me he would certainly do his part, promptly emptied the garbage, and apparently considered his part finished. We will be having another talk.
If I were going to rate myself at yoga, it would be as either an advanced beginner or a beginning intermediate. But the class I'm in, which is the easiest one they offer, is one where people are often balancing on one hand. The yogi I have most often caters to these advanced people, leaving people like me in the dust. Generally you're supposed to give a modified option to those who can't do a yoga move, which he wasn't doing. At one point, he even waived his hand and said, "If you need to modify ... you know how." Umm.... judging from all the other people who sat back on their knees and waited, I don't think so.
It was really frustrating me. I was spending so much time throughout the class waiting for him to call out a move I could do. Easily 50% of the class, which is ridiculous. I was wasting my time. I wasn't getting all I felt I should out of the classes he was leading. And then I cried all through naptime. I just laid there with tears pouring down my cheeks, unable to stop. It took every ounce of self control to not get up and walk out. When class was over, I went up to the yogi and asked if he had a minute. When he said he did, I borrowed a line from Rachel on Friends, and apologized in advance if I cried. And then I proceeded to cry all the way through our talk.
He started with, "I know what you're going to say." Oh really. "What?" I asked him. "You're going to say I don't adjust you enough," he told me. "Actually you don't, but that wasn't what I was going to say." He seemed surprised, and got a little defensive when I listed my grievances. He told me that he takes a long time to warm up to people, and appreciates that I spoke with him. That in the past he's had women in his class who are older or overweight and when he's gone to adjust them, they get upset, which is why he hasn't come to me. That's right, he just called me fat. I looked him straight in the eye, and stopped blubbering enough to tell him, "I'm not like that. I want you to help me do it perfectly. I feel like I'm completely floundering and not getting all I should be out of the classes when I'm not getting any direction at all." He agreed to do that. We hugged it out, because it's yoga, and that's how we roll in yoga.
Last night was the first time I went back to one of his classes since our talk. I was nervous because I (wrongly) equate crying with complete failure. When he saw me, he smiled apprehensively. I'm sure he worried I'd cry on him again. But I knew I wouldn't. And I didn't. He kept his word by giving more direction, and I sweated more than usual. He gets annoyed when I don't remember every single little thing he's ever told me in previous classes, but if he teaches long enough, he'll learn that students simply don't learn everything they're taught. After class I thanked him, and said I felt like I got a lot more out of this class than the past ones. Walking home I felt like pure liquid (this is a good thing), and I'm psyched to go back tonight.
Labels: 9am, Harshing Your Mellow, I'm Hurt, Work, Yoga
7 Comments:
I think you both will benefit from the yoga, hopefully he learns how students can be when they are cared for.
That was so brave of you to talk to him. That sort of thing happens to me a lot in yoga and pilates, and I'm too chickenshit to call them out on it and say "help me be better at this."
So I guess it'll STILL be F'ing Yoga for a bit longer.
After a couple of years I'm still beginner/beginner and I've been able to let go of those things I'll probably never be able to do, I just do something that I think will feel good (pigeon, usually) and I set up near the door so I can pop out for a sip of water or a bathroom break.
I had no idea that's how yoga worked... I was imagining this tranquil music in the background, balancing on your head and saying "om", you know, the basic stuff. :-)
Oh yeah, I think you were right on when you told the yogi about your concerns... of course, I am the kind of person who ends up quitting the class. (I once quit a french class because the teacher wouldn't stop making racist comments about Africans - I did glare at him and say that I don't appreciate racial or ethnic slurs... but I never went back. Going back is probably the bravest thing you did in this incident.)
OH, btw, is the kitchen counter cleaner now?
Scotty - I hope so!
Psuedo - just go for it. You won't know if you don't try.
Silli - good for you. I'm too competitive (even with myself) to let go of what I can't do.
MN, I don't say the OMs. :) I just ... can't. It's a line I can't cross.
The kitchen counter is probably not clean since when I left this morning, 9am was in the kitchen doing something with toast. He never ever cleans his crumbs.
My sister worked for an optician who had a theory , which was that people who leave crumbs often have an eyesight problem and just dont see them . Personally I think some people just dont want to see them but I put this out in case ?
PS I like your blog and until I read these recent posts my picture of you was of someone very skinny . I wonder how we get these mental images ?
Brave woman. Love the stealing lines from Friends characters lol.
I remember Geraldine Ferraro running for VP, think it was 1984? Don't even remember who her running mate was, but Reagan won the election anyhow. I was only six, so unfortunately I don't remember any of the debate about a woman running.
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