6/50 Activated By Almonds, Anxiety And Possibly Cats
- Anxiety driven
I’ve missed two days of classes in a row due to a new combo of sleeping tablets and anti-depressants which apparently are more for anxiety than depression and send me into a blissful sleep just as I’m meant to get up. Which we will need to discuss, my psychiatrist and I (even though we don’t really do any discussing AT ALL despite my longingly looking at his sofa each time I’ve entered the room. Plus, no tissues! What sort of depravity is this?), because all I’m feeling is more anxious when I don’t think I particularly was before. Possibly also a bit flat. And I’m still waking through the night so yes these are working a treat. Maybe I’m made for the hard, hard stuff. Except then I’d be worried about my skin and weight… Clearly I’ve got my priorities straight.
Anyway, I get mutinous when I don’t get to class and I know, I know, that yoga is more than the asanas and 60-90 minutes on the mat each day. I know about taking our yoga off the mat and breathing through it and not calling people female genitalia when they drive at 40 in the right hand lane. But I need the physical; so yesterday and today I rolled out my trusty, old purple mat from days of yore and dove into repetitive sun salutations. Due to slight OCD I did count them (20 yesterday, 30 today) and then followed up with some twists and stretches (still not sure why we can’t use that word).
Things felt better. Luckily for everyone.
As much as I get inspired when I see other yogis on social with their regular home practices I must be inherently lazy because I do prefer to be told what to do without having to think about it. And lying on the floor, singing doesn’t give me the feel-goods that usually follow me out of class.
Living for the feel-goods, me.
- Feed me
I remain resistant to cooking and have eaten nothing today except oats, dark chocolate and more dark chocolate. I am also completely enamoured with activated almonds. (Light, super crunchy and better than normal old almonds for reasons that nutritionists know.) Oh, and a mandarin. Keeping that scurvy at bay.
Nobody can ever come to our house for dinner again.
- It’s my family’s fault
My family no longer require me to entertain them in the motherly/wifely way, which was, in truth, what my cooking was before. They found great joy in small fires (ok, big fires) and explosions. The daughter has left home and the husband travels such a lot for work (or probably for the meals) that there’s no need for me to perform. Really, there is little to complain about, and yet, and yet. As much as I jest surely I am a thin line away from 40 cats and a hoarding disorder. Perhaps when I do turn 50 I’ll also magically turn into one of those people who can invite the party back to theirs and create a feast from nothing except activated almonds.
Yup. It’s a thin line alright.
And you? You cook, don’t you? It’s alright you’re in a safe place, no judgement here…
Photo by Octavio Fossat
© The Yoga Connection 2017