I was walking around Chestnut Hill on Sunday feeling really good about myself, despite my back still hurting from a recent injury.
My hair was extra curly, my outfit was on point and I felt excited to spend the day with my love brunching and picking up some awesome yoga pants.
At some point I dropped my keys on the ground and squatted down to pick them up since I can’t really bend right now.
I was having trouble getting back up and didn’t want to do further damage to my already tweaked back so I asked Nick to help me up.
He gave me his hand and helped return my body to an upright position as I groaned at the process.
As this happened a middle aged man commented…
Getting old sucks!
To which I replied…
I’m not old. I have a back injury.
To which he replied…
Well that’s even worse.
Clearly I was dealing with a regular Mary sunshine.
I replied…
I’m doing just fine.
I’m pretty sure my words contained a fire that may have singed off his eyebrows but I didn’t care.
And actually there isn’t anything wrong with getting old.
But why do we have to see someone in pain struggling to get up and assume that their issue is age?
I know a woman who is 72 years old and has a yoga practice as strong as mine at 37.
Clearly I was bothered by this.
I then promptly walked to this polar beach bench, sat down and cried.
I know this dude was just trying to connect with a little negative, jokey commentary but it didn’t make me feel so good.
Yes, I’m sensitive. You should know this by now.
But also, having an injury can be physically, mentally, emotionally and energetically draining. Especially when you are someone so identified with your body and it’s movement like I am.
Plus I had just gotten back into practicing on Saturday and Sunday and it was not pretty.
In my first yoga class in 2 weeks the teacher’s focus was twists.
On any other day I would have been down but twists are the #1 movement I should not be doing.
And this class was ALL twists leaving me to do about 30% of the actually poses she was offering.
Yup I was one of those people who had to do my own thing.
Sunday was better and I could do a lot more but still it was tough.
And then I realized, my identity is tied up in my ability to move.
I am used to being the person people look at in yoga classes to make sure they are doing postures correctly.
On more than one occasion students have commented on my practice, have asked if I am a dancer (I’m not) and have shown signs of awe.
But when I can’t even do child’s pose and getting off the ground is a chore those things change.
And while I never felt attached to any of this I see now that it has still affected me.
This is who I am- Brittany the yoga teacher. Brittany the person who can move and flow and is so damn embodied.
And don’t get me started on the fact that I can’t currently dance. I am slowly dying inside.
So what happens when all of these physical ways of self expression get extremely altered or halted??
You are forced to sit with yourself and discover who you truly are.
Because all that movement is external stuff. Sure it can help tap us in and feel amazing but the goods are inside.
It’s moments like this when I understand where my attachments lie.
And yes, it’s easy to get attached to the yoga practice. To care too much about what the postures look like and what you can do.
Just scroll Instagram for confirmation of that.
But that’s the beauty of the practice. It brings this stuff out into the light.
And for me my injury is a reminder that who I am has been caught up a bit too much in how easily I can drop into a squat at Whole Foods because I want to read a box on the bottom shelf.
Time to let go of that. At least a little.
What about you? Have you ever had an injury that taught you a lesson? Or someone that pissed you off and in turn you gained some clarity?? Let me know in the comments below!
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