How yoga helps me take better care of my mom

I played competitive sports for 12 years.  Competitive being relative of course because I’m not really sure what they consider 6 year olds playing tee ball…In any case, I loved being on a team; tennis, softball, marching band, basketball.  I was never a big talker or motivator, I was more of a quiet ‘doer’, much like my mom.  I wasn’t all that graceful either, my nickname given to me by my high school basketball coach was Barbie and it wasn’t solely due to the blonde hair- I was a klutz and often in the wrong place at the wrong time, but when I got it right- I could block shots for days, Deebo you out of the paint with my horse legs; pretty much just be an all-out menace to the opposing teams much larger players.  

I would do near anything to help protect my team and more importantly-defeat THEM.  Whoever Them was, I was going to be better than them, work harder than them, last longer than them.  Was I the best player? Of course not.  Was I a great teammate?  I would like to think so.  As long as I knew it would benefit my team, I didn’t care what it entailed.  

With all of the above in mind, you may think I have adequate discipline and motivation as a person, period.  Even I thought that for a while.  But it turns out I do not.  When it comes to me, personally, Stephanie, I don’t always have the best self-discipline and at times to be honest, character.  I have relearned this several times in my life but only in the last few years have I actively attempted to improve upon it.  

Moving to Alaska alone exposed this weakness tremendously in many forms.  

My mom having her cancer recur and my life being uprooted suddenly not only exposed it but exacerbated it like grinding coarse salt into a fresh wound.  

The first two months I was in North Carolina with my family were rough.  I drank, medicated, and smoked.  A lot.   When I wasn’t eating fast food going to and from the hospital and doctor’s offices I was gorging myself on comfort foods that so many gracious people provided (If you know anything about the south or the word Comfort you know it always involves butter, frying, and bread).  I was a poor excuse for coping and self-care in general. I felt like shit and hated myself for allowing this perpetual cycle of regret and self-pity justifying my actions to occur.  I smoked because my mom has cancer again and I was stressed out (and no, the irony is not lost on me).  I medicated because I was under undue stress and I deserved some reprieve damn it!  Excuse after excuse I repeated in my head over and over.  But I knew it was unacceptable and this only perpetuated things.  Why couldn’t I just get it together?  How hard is it to not buy another pack? 

All while this is happening there is my dad.  A pillar of exemplar character.  I would say strength but I don’t want that to be misconstrued as ‘he is so strong, he can handle anything’.  But that’s what it boils down to- strength is recognizing your suffering and making the decision to cope in a healthy and ultimately constructive way.  He went for walks with Joe the dog and by himself to clear his mind.  He read books called “Handbook for Mortals” and “The Bible”.  He got up day after day doing the best he could.  Some days the best was just getting out of bed and other days it was orchestrating a ramp to be built in the garage.  

Henry T inspired me then and every day since.  I knew I needed to get it together because in the end- the care I was providing for my mom was suffering due to my poor decisions.  I was irritable, exhausted, bloated and weak.  All I wanted to do was sit on the couch and sleep to deal with this awful situation, let alone help someone else. So I set a goal:  Once I returned from my two week trip to Alaska in March, I would be a different person.  No more smoking, no more gorging, no more fast food, no more pity party filled with excuses.  

I also had the perfect vector to this new and improved ‘me’.  My beautiful friend Daisy had been inviting me for many weeks to come to the hot yoga studio she attends.  I knew I liked yoga and how I felt after I did yoga but I never was able to get into a routine (read: never was able to motivate myself to get into a routine).  But now that I am here in NC, no longer in school or in a conventional occupation, in desperate need of a healthy outlet to deal with my stress, perhaps I would be able to commit?  After all, they have a sweet first time student deal and I would get to spend some time with my friend. Furthermore, this studio has classes (brace yourselves) at 6:15AM Monday-Friday.  This may sound awful but it is the only way I could make this work.  I would get up, drive to Durham, go to class, drive back to Mebane, shower and drink some coffee all before my dad had to go to work and more importantly, before my mom wakes up.  This way I don’t need to recruit anyone to help out (any nurse will tell you that asking for help is learned skill that is still hard to do at times).  I can get it all done before 8:00AM and it’s like it never happened!

But it did happen.  And it is noticeable. I am rejuvenated after class.  I have energy.  I was able to stop smoking with the help of profuse sweating in a 95 degree room followed by re-hydration purging my body of nicotine. I am more flexible and I am stronger.  I am also down 10 pounds. I just plain ol’ feel better.   

Back to my earlier comments about fighting Them.  You see, I have learned that having self-control is entirely different from competitive sports because the only Them is You.  There is no one to fight or beat or defeat because what you are up against is yourself.  I can’t stare across the court at someone and build a desire to conquer Them because I am the only one in this fight.  Yoga has taught me that.  Although it would be more interesting at times, the fact is I am the only one on the yoga mat.  There is no one trying to beat me and that is why it is so easy for me to allow myself to not try as hard to be disciplined (since there are no winners or losers, what’s the point, right?) There are seemingly infinite ways to hold each pose starting at novice, inflexible level all the way to insane X-Men powers level.  This allows you to conquer the pose in whatever level you are currently in.  “Go where you can go” is said more than once in those classes.  And although at first I took it as a taunt and a challenge (Oh I’ll show you where I can go), I have learned to embrace it.  I am where I am today and the hope is tomorrow I will be somewhere else.  That is the victory- the movement from one place to another.  

This isn't your stereotypical yoga class either.  We aren't in there chanting with singing bowls in our perfect headstand poses smiling and speaking Sanskrit fluently to each other (although there is nothing wrong with that, I am just here to tell you that Arrichion is not one of those types of studios). I have dreaded waking up at 5:25AM and driving 30 minutes.  I have cried on my yoga mat when I cannot escape my thoughts about CT scans and tough decisions (I blame Eddie Vedder for the majority of that).  I have had excruciating headaches during and after class from not hydrating well enough.  I have seriously had to think about what the best way to fall would be if I pass out standing up.  I have bruises up and down my triceps trying to attempt Crow pose. 

 I wake up most mornings with a now familiar feeling of impending doom weighing down inside my gut.  But once I am in that room, trying not to pass out and pushing my own limits of strength, flexibility and balance, I finally have what can only be described as reprieve.  But what is better about this reprieve, as opposed to what I gained earlier from poor coping- is I am not merely escaping my suffering- I am actively embracing and working through it and that allows me to carry it on after the class. When it comes down to it, yoga helps me take better care of my mom.

I have more energy to be kind and patient when caring for her day in and day out.  I am more flexible so I can reach across and down to my mom so I can adjust her feet under a table in a crowded restaurant.  I am stronger so I can help lift her when we get in a bad place that she is unable to transfer herself.  I am more present when it comes to listening to my mom voice her fears and uncertainties.  

It seems as if nothing in my life is controllable at this time and even if it were, most things I want are attached to catastrophic caveats.  I want to return to Alaska so I can finish grad school- but when I do, it means my mother has died.  I want to be with my boyfriend and my dogs- but when I am, it means my dad has lost his best friend forever.  I want my mom to be here as long as she possibly can- but that means I am here with my life on hold. There is no answer, nothing to conquer that will make everything alright.  Things are going to get worse before they get better. The Them in this case is cancer. We know what the final score will be. We know that cancer will eventually take her life but that doesn’t mean it is the victor.  It merely means we have to reshape what our victories are. 

In finding what I CAN control, things like what I put into my body and pushing myself in my yoga classes, spending quality time with my family, these are the victories I can create today.  I hold onto those things dearly.  Because when I am able to be self-disciplined and have self-control in that process, it allows me to take better care of my mom.  

Happy Mother's Day Mom- I love you severely :o)