Dialoguing With Discomfort

A lot of people hate trying new things. But I really really really hate them. You can ask my parents. I bet my dad could still tell you what I ordered at subway as a child because it was the exact same for years on end. I've read the same books, watched the same movies and series, over and over dozens of times because I like them and don't want to try to invest in a new one. I had to be dragged to track in high school and refused to pole vault until the intimidating men's coach pulled me out of a workout one day and told me I was going to. Every time I've been about to begin a new journey - most memorably my internship after my freshman year of college, studying abroad - I've spent the week leading up to it figuring out how to get out of it at the last minute. Most social situations are extraordinarily uncomfortable for me. I've been thinking about visiting a new church for the last several months, but have bailed the last three weeks I said I was going to. (I am absolutely going to tomorrow.

I feel like I've made some progress over the last few years, but there are still moments. I can get physically sick from it, as though I have the flu. I get anxious every time I go to a new yoga studio, even when I know the teacher. My chest can get unbearably tight at the thought of change or something new.

I can't even really pinpoint what causes my severe aversion. I like being comfortable, but so do most people. And not everyone has such a hard time.

My schedule changed at work this week, and even though it's good and I like it, I still need time to process the change. Talking about my anxiety made me anxious. And there's a pending new church visit tomorrow. So even when people I like asked me to do something I really like, I still turned them down. I couldn't possibly be social today because I need today to feel normal and easy.

 I walked to yoga this morning and I laid on a block with my heart open and I started crying. These things really do manifest in your body.

Speaking of reading the same books over and over again, every time I re-read Hellbent: Obsession, Pain, and the Search for Something Like Transcendence in Competitive Yoga by Benjamin Lorr,  I find something new to ponder. While these quotes are references to the physical pain and discomfort in extreme postures, I find them applicable to the emotional trauma that reveals itself in movement. 

"When you do a posture, you must choose to remain in it. You must choose to ignore the pain, choose to continue to explore your body. The pain is a phantom; ignoring it is a choice. Yoga makes us confront that choice. It makes us free to choose" 

"To really backbend, you have to become intimate with pain, not as an informational entity that raises awareness, not as a warning, but as a phenomenon, a presence you can dialogue with. You have to engage the phenomenon every time it comes up, and ultimately move through it while it screams in you face" 

This is the only pose I can think of that I am actually afraid of. It makes me so uncomfortable, not because I'm not strong or flexible enough, but because it feels unstable, unsafe.  Letting myself be in it, and stay in it, is how I open up that conversation with discomfort.