Holding tree pose in a hurricane

Photo credit: www.yogainmyschool.com

Kids.

I feel like I’ve grown out of them. In my tweens and teenage years they were everywhere. At every family gathering there was a smattering of loud, rambunctious children running wild, and at that point in my life, I was quite used to the racket and chaos that followed these little people wherever they went. I might even go as far as to say I found it cute and entertaining. And then, somewhere along the line something changed. I can pin point the exact day when I realized a switched had been flicked inside of me. I was about 17 years old and it was a typical Saturday – I was chillin at my cousin’s house, babysitting her two little girls.  Brenna was a toddler, maybe two or three years old, and her little sister Kennedy was still an infant. Kennedy was napping in her crib and Brenna and I were having a tea party in her plastic kitchen when all hell broke loose. Kennedy started crying. I was was pretty good at calming babies by this point – regular babysitting gigs made me somewhat of an expert, but Kennedy did not want to be calmed. She screamed bloody murder for at least two hours. Her big sister, ever the nurturer, tried to help me soothe her by petting her head, which made Kennedy scream even louder. I remember calling my mother, in tears, not knowing what to do. Brenna was in the corner of the living room, covering her ears screaming “HERS CRYING! MAKE HERS STOP CRYING.” Mittens, the cat, was darting back and forth through the hallway and puked, Kennedy was still screeching and then Brenna moved on to investigate the contents of Mittens’ vomit. I don’t remember much after that. I think I purposely stored it away in the depths of my brain, never wanting to revisit it again.

I continued to babysit the girls and nothing like that ever happened again. It had been a one time, freak kid attack and I recovered fine. The girls are all grown up now; they’re both kind, fun, beautiful, smart teenagers and I still love them to death, despite the surprise attack they launched on me. I take comfort in the fact that I’m pretty sure they will experience a similar babysitting adventure. Karma’s a bitch girls.

Anyway, the reason I detailed that story was to relay my feeling about children. I like the idea of kids. I really do, but the chaos that follows them? I’m not down with that. It’s been 15 or 16 years since I’ve been in regular contact with these peculiar little people and a lot has changed: All the kids in my family have grown up into adults. Neither Chad or I have a lot of little ones running around at family gatherings. I have only one close friend that has a child, and she lives half way across the country so I don’t see her often. I struggle with anxiety and have become fixated on things like order and structure and having a clean house. I’m impatient, I’m a planner and I’m moderately selfish. Oh, and I hate sticky stuff. All of these things, these changes that have come about, they’re not kid friendly. I am now legitimately afraid of children.

So you can see what a problem this posed when my dear friend, and yoga soul-mate B, asked me to cover a childrens yoga class for her. A Brownie troop of 22, seven and eight year old little girls wanting yoga. I was panic stricken, but I swallowed the giant lump in my throat, pulled out my brave voice and said, “Absolutely! That will be so much fun.” I hung up the phone and felt nauseous.

I decided to go into the school gymnasium with lots of happy, positive energy. I was going to face this fear and nail this class. I took lots of time to prepare a fun sequence, and dressed in the most colourful, brightest, fun yoga clothes I own. I could hear the kids as soon as I walked into the school. I consciously changed my thought pattern immediately: “They’re not loud, they’re full of innocent, child-like energy, we should all be this way!” I stepped into the gym and they were all in a circle playing on their yoga mats. They wanted me in the middle. “Great. I can be attacked from all sides. No, I mean, this is perfect, I’ll be surrounded by their joy and energy! This is going to be fantastic!”

I began the class asking their names and if they’d done yoga before. If they had, what was their favourite pose. OK, this is good. They’re interrupting each other, but this is manageable. Then we started stretching like cats and cows, every time we cat stretched, we meowed, every time we cow stretched, we mooed. “So the meowing and mooing is a bit loud,” I thought. “They’re excited animals.” We moved into tadasana, and stood at attention like a soldier, then on to strong warriors. And then the chaos ensued. 22 little voices competing with each other, “I can do tree!” “Teacher, look at me, I can stand on my head.” “OOOWWWWWW, I crashed.” “Wait, can I do the worm?” “Watch this, I can flip upside down.” “I WANT TO SAY OMMMMMMM! B, LETS US SAY OMMMMMMMM.”

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. You can make it through this. You can do this. So your planned sequence didn’t work out, it’s ok, harness the innocent, child like energy. Go with the flow.  Breathe, Krista, breathe.

And so the chaos went on for 25 minutes. I was pivoting in my place in the middle of the circle, watching children, advising against headstand, and sending pleading looks to the parents for help. I ended the class by asking all of the little people to sit down on their mats in a circle. They were all looking forward to the “OM part.” Their little OMs were truly one of the most powerful and beautiful things I’ve ever experienced. All of these little voices, chanting with their eyes closed and their hands in prayer. After our OMs, I asked them if any of them knew what OM meant. Several little ones shouted out their interpretations: love, kindness, happiness, feeling good, peace, and then one little girl raised her hand politely and said “I think OM means peace of mind.” Her mother looked at her and then at me, in shock. I said to her “that’s beautiful, what does peace of mind mean to you?” She responded with this, “OM and peace of mind means that I’m pretty and smart and funny and perfect just the way I am.” Her mother, clearly taken aback, looked at her little girl and was speechless.

The girls got up from the circle, and began running around the room like orangutans. One of them showed me that she could make a princess skirt out of her pink flowered yoga mat. She spun around, her mat hitting my shins and then she bit it hard and laughed. Others had rolled up their mats at this point and were using them as bats, swords and other sparring weapons. I chatted with a few parents and thanked them for their kind comments about the chaotic yoga class and then I bolted.

I’m not gonna lie, I was exhausted and frazzled when I came home. I drank two glasses of wine – actually, I may have shotgunned the first glass. I recounted the experience for my husband, who knew about the anxiety I had going into this. He was in tears he laughed so hard. Me? I didn’t find it as funny. My plan was thrown wildly off course, my sequence didn’t happen, our yoga class was haphazardly thrown together and ruled by the requests of 22 little girls. I was terrified throughout the whole class that someone was going to break or dislocate something, the noise and disorganization made my stomach turn and I walked away feeling like I needed alcohol. Not exactly yogic, right?! OR was it?

After a good sleep and some reflection, I came to realize that just because the environment wasn’t typically “yogic,” or, from my perspective, sane, didn’t mean that something special didn’t take place. The “OM part,” as the kids so excitedly called it, was somewhat transformational, and left me with a different feeling about these little people. The sound of their voices in those few moments was so innocent and peaceful. And their child-like interpretation of the sound was perfection. I still think about that one little girl and how aware she was while she was talking about “inner peace.” Those two or three minutes made it all worthwhile. In fact, those two or three minutes have made me cherish the entire experience and look upon it with joy, rather then anxiety.

Don’t get me wrong, the whole thing was traumatizing, and I’m going to have to psyche myself before I do it again, but…I will do it again. I’ll still be terrified, I’ll still be anxious, and I’ll still probably need a post kid yoga drink, but I will do it. And I’ll go into it with the joy that the “OM part” brought me and work from there.

Disclaimer: My little darlings, Brenna and Kennedy did not propel me into the realm of kid fear. They merely serve as an example of the normal kid behaviour that kicks my pre-existing crazy and anxiety into high gear. Neither of them are the reasons for my kid fear. I love you both, girlies.

Louis with frozen whiskers and a giant smile!

In my last several posts I have talked about trying to slow down and appreciate the small things. Things like sunshine, silence, coffee and pajamas. The problem is, I don’t usually think about how to enjoy these things. In fact, I don’t slow down enough to even have them register in my brain. In a typical day, the abovementioned ‘little things’ are referred to, or noticed in the following ways:

Sunshine – “Excellent! It’s sunny. It’s about damn time.”
Silence – “Hmmmm, this is nice. What’s wrong?”
Coffee – “Where the hell is the coffee? I need some $^@&ing coffee.”
Pajamas – “Bed time. Now if only these $%@$ing pajamas wouldn’t get so tangled up around me, I might manage to get a good nights sleep!”

I’m pleasant, non?

Anyway, I figured it was high time that I slow down. But the time? Between my 8 – 5 job, plus teaching yoga three days a week and the contract work I’ve been doing, scheduling some “slow time” would require my involvement some sort of catastrophic accident. Or…I could pull a stunt I’ve never pulled before.

Enter number 5 of 33 Things.

I marched into my boss’s office and announced that I would like to cash in two vacation days. AND, I asked to take the time off the following week. He said yes, without even blinking.

So why were these two vacation days such a big deal?

A) I’m a “try not to ruffle feathers in the workplace” kinda gal. Giving my boss 3 days notice about vacation is not something I usually whip out.
B) These were days off without a “purpose.” I wasn’t going anywhere or doing anything. This is a troublesome scenario for me. Slowing down, is not exactly a legitimate purpose in my books.
C) I didn’t have a plan of any type. No plan as to how to deal with the work that would come in my absence. No plan as to what to do with my time off. No plan. None.

As Sunday night came to a close, I began to panic a bit. How was I going to function at home, with no plans, for two days? How am I going to keep myself from checking my work e-mail? I began to feel a bit guilty about taking the time off for, what I believed was, no apparent reason. And with such short notice! Did that make me irresponsible?

Monday came and I rolled out of bed at around 7:30. An epic sleep in! I began, for the first time, to consciously deal with my anxious feelings. I chose positive methods to deal. Instead of avoiding the feelings by piling tasks on a to-do list, I chose to breathe through my thoughts and worries. I asked myself thought provoking questions. “What does it say about you if you check your email right now? Does that create unrealistic expectations from your peers? Are you feeding and creating more pressure on yourself by doing that?” I started to slowly talk myself through the irrational thoughts and knee jerk reactions. And then? I took my dog to one of his favourite places on earth; the off-leash dog park.

We spent 45 minutes running and playing ball in the sun. He ran and tumbled in the snow and had the biggest doggie smile I had ever seen. It wasn’t a planned adventure, it just seemed like a good idea at that moment in time. When we got home, I got into a clean, cozy pair of pajamas, brewed some espresso and made myself a latte to warm up. With my doggie curled up and snoozing on my cold feet, I slowly sipped my latte as I sat in front of the fire and stared out the window. Before I knew it, an hour had passed. I had just been sitting there, feeling the warmth and the sunshine on my face. I was relaxed. And content. And not worrying. My husband called and we had a lunch date. The rest of the day was filled with some more window staring (back in pajamas), a bit of reading, a splash of laundry and some yoga. The second day was much of the same.

 What I concluded at the end of my two days off was this: my short notice time off wasn’t irresponsible at all. In fact, is was probably the most responsible thing I could have done given the pressure and anxiety I had been feeling in the days leading up to my mini stay-cation. I was getting sick, and I was worrying and stressing about a number of things… I took care of myself for the first time in a long time. I enjoyed two full days full of things that I wanted to do. I had no schedule, and no one telling me that I had to complete this, or review that. I became my own boss for those two days. I didn’t feel pressure from anyone else to do things I didn’t want to do, or go places I didn’t want to go. In fact, when I came back to work just the other day, I had two people tell me that I had colour back in my face. A work colleague that also takes one of my yoga classes told me that I had seemed extra happy and energetic in the class that I had taught on one of my days off.

 Saying yes and making a decision that was initially uncomfortable, yielded some pretty cool results. It also brought forth a lot of thought provoking questions. Questions that I’m a little too afraid to begin to answer at this point. But I will. In time. When I’m ready.

Time off, without a plan, has a purpose. It’s not irresponsible, it’s not selfish and it doesn’t have to be ridden with worry and anxiety. At the end of the two days I came to realize several things, not the least of which is that being my own boss for a couple of days is pretty cool. Doing things that make ME truly happy, is the best feeling in the world; the days flew by and I was able to fall asleep at night.

Huh. Who knew?

When I began to think about embarking on this 33 Things journey, I immediately went big. I created a mental list of a bunch of huge hurdles I wanted to jump; things like paying off all my student debt and being a catalyst for world peace. That’s me. I’m all about output, lists and overachieving. Enter Big L and Wee C. As I discussed in a previous post, they talked me down from the lists (an e-mail exchange that still makes me tremble and tick), and encouraged me to keep it simple and authentic.

Sigh.

Simple and authentic are hard for me. I don’t typically do simple, and as I’m finding out, I’m not always authentic (I’m saving the authenticity post for another time, and it’s going to be a doozy so stay tuned). As I noted in my last post, I’m challenging myself to appreciate more of the simple things in life. Less doing, more being is my theme for 2011. And so in an effort to do less, and be more, I’ve recently said yes to a few things that have pushed me into a parallel universe.

Every third Friday I am entitled to a day off, with pay. It’s a nice little reward for working my ass off I suppose, but the problem lies in that I don’t usually cash in these days. More often than not, I can be found in my office, every Friday, doing a slow boil under heaps of paperwork and e-mail. My excuse? I get a lot of work done on Fridays. I’m allowed to wear jeans (I believe that my productivity is directly related to my physical comfort and as such, I think I get WAY more work done on Fridays), and furthermore, because other people are enjoying their Fridays off, it means they’re not bombing my inbox and my phone or standing in my office door asking me for something. Fridays are highly productive for me. I get shit done. 

So, when I took a Friday off a couple of weeks ago, it was kind of a big deal. So that’s one thing. But, what’s more noteworthy than the day off is what I did with it, or perhaps what I didn’t do…

On this particular Friday, I chose to go MIA. I made a conscious decision to avoid BOTH Blackberries. And then, THEN, I unplugged the Internet and shut my laptop. That’s right, I chose to spend a whole day without Internet and cell phone technology. No Facebook, no Twitter, no e-mail, no Blackberry Messenger, no text messages. I unplugged.

Sure, it sounds easy, right?  Pffffft. Right. This was likely the single, most difficult thing I’ve done in quite some time. This? This bordered on catastrophic for me. I am always connected, always communicating, always on top of things. I read work e-mails when I’m at home sick, and on evenings and weekends. And hello!? This was a Friday. One of my most productive days of the week! Furthermore, networking through social media has become a normal and frequent part of my daily routine. There are some people I communicate with, almost exclusively through text messages or Blackberry messages. The more I thought about it, the scarier it became. What WAS I going to do all day?

When I woke up Friday morning I didn’t reach for my Blackberry. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Shit. Now what? Coffee? Shower? I don’t know what made me more anxious: the fact that I wasn’t out of bed yet and my morning routine was already screwed, or the fact that I had just realized that the very first thing I do in the morning is reach for my Blackberry. Both of these realizations made my head spin. I had to take a deep breath and deal with both of them. First, how to deal with my routine being thrown out of whack. Ok, breathe. Not a big deal. Simply put your feet on the floor and walk to the shower. You can do this.

Once in the shower, I began to walk myself through the epic effed-up-ed-ness of my routine. In my first waking moments I reach for my Blackberry. Who does that? How did I get to this point. Before I stretch, before I kiss my husband good morning, before I look out the window, I’m on my hand held. Whoa. Ok, breathe. This is why you’re doing this, Krista. This is a good thing. Think of how enlightened you’ll be at the end of this. Yes. Think of the positives.

Post shower. I want to grab for my handheld again. What IS this? At this point, I figure I am certifiably insane.

Get dressed. Go to the kitchen. Make coffee. Yes, that will distract me. While it’s brewing I’ll check Facebook and Twitter to see what’s happening in the world. And then, I’ll update my status to say something clever and insightful and joyous about taking the day off just to “be.”

Shit. No. No social media. Is it me, or is this coffee taking a really long time to brew?

Hmmmm, ok CBC. The Chronicle Herald from Halifax. I’ll enlighten myself with news.

Right. No Internet.

I had been out of bed for about 25 minutes and was starting to twitch. I felt like all of those little devices were talking to me, telling me that I needed them to feel human again. That they helped me to prove my very existence. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop taunting me with your flashing lights, chimes and dinging noises. Stop!

The first hour or two of my unplugged Friday morning felt like torture. I truly felt disconnected. I could go on and become overly philosophical about experience, but I won’t. All I really need to say is that in the first couple of hours, I was highly disturbed by my psychological need to be connected via technology. Since that Friday, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how I use all of these tools to fill my days. My time. My existence. Not all of my thinking was around the negatives, but I’ve certainly gained perspective. A lot of it.

It’s interesting. After the initial shock of being unplugged, I settled into a day without my Blackberries and the Internet. It wasn’t easy. What struck me most, was the quiet. The silence. After I powered down all the devices, my physical environment actually felt quieter. The constant chatter in my head slowed down to, what I assume is, a more normal pace. By noon, I began to enjoy the disconnect. I read, uninterrupted and I watched some trashy, mindless daytime television. By the time my husband came home, I felt kind of rested. Me. The girl who always feels tired, yet restless and anxious.

When I woke up the next morning, I reached over and grabbed one of my Blackberries. I checked the time and then I got in the shower. I spent the rest of the day resisting the temptation, only checking in two or three times, as opposed to a couple times an hour. I’ve tried to carry this new, happier habit through the past couple of weeks and so far it’s working.

Once again, this odd, little item in my 33 Things challenge, has provided me an insightful and somewhat scary look into my clogged up, plugged-in life. Who knew that saying yes to such seemingly insignificant things would serve up such a significant piece of perspective?

I’ve always wanted to pull of a mammoth surprise; one that really knocks someone’s knickers off. But, like many things in my life, when push came to shove, I always came up with some excuse to say “no.” Not enough money; the timing’s not right; I’ll never be able to keep it under wraps… There was always something, but this time? This time was going to be different. This time I was going to make it all happen. 

I have a stellar best friend. We’ve been tighter than tight since high school. We’ve been through everything together. Boyfriends, epic break-ups, really awful times (and when I say awful, I mean AWFUL), and really great, awesome, amazing times. We’ve been besties, roommates, sisters, and confidants. We’ve slept in each others beds when the other didn’t want to be alone, we’ve cried and laughed hysterically until our sides hurt, we’ve had indoor snowball fights, we’ve drank ourselves into drunken stupors, we’ve eaten chocolate and nachos until we puked…There was a method to our madness: we did all of this to show the other that they are not alone; to show them how much they are supported and how much they are loved. Always. 

So, when my BFF had a baby it was a huge deal. The girl, who I would throw myself in front of a bus for at a moments notice, was now a mother. Not only did I have to meet the baby, I needed to hug my best friend and tell her, again, how much I love her. The weeks passed and before I knew it her little girl (BabyBFF) was two months old. Life was getting in the way; I was too busy, too consumed with my every day life to make the trip to visit. I was making decisions that in my heart of hearts, I knew weren’t right, but they were easy. They fit my everyday mold. And then, one night after I hung up the phone with my bestie I said “yes.” “Yes, I need to get my ass on a plane and visit bestie and BabyBFF.” 

There was something in her voice. A something that not everyone would recognize. But me? I’m not everyone. I’m the girl that pulled her out of the bathroom, when in a drunken stupor she got herself wedged between the bath tub and the toilet. I’m the one who can look at her and immediately, know what she’s thinking. That something in her voice tipped me off and I knew I needed to say “yes.” 

So here’s the breakdown. I said yes to two things: I say yes to a trip half way across the country that was completely unplanned and that I had no money saved for, and then I said yes to the surprise. At that moment, I committed to planning and pulling off a surprise of epic proportions. I was going to show up at her doorstep without telling her. This was the kind of surprise I’ve been longing to pull off.

My hubby and I got in touch with bestie’s hubby (HubbyBFF) and floated the idea past him. He thought it was a brilliant. The next day we bought our plane tickets (on our VISA I might add!) and made sure we could get some time off work (AFTER purchasing the tickets – another thing I have never done). HubbyBFF came up with a grand story to cover all of our tracks and two and a half weeks later we were boarding a place to T-dot.

I had ants in my pants the whole way. I couldn’t get off the plane fast enough. HubbyBFF helped us gather our things and pack them into his car. My bestie had no idea we were en route to her house. In fact, she was home packing for what her husband told her was going to be a romantic weekend getaway for the two of them.  

As we pulled up in front of their home, I rolled out of the back seat hardly able to contain my excitement. I was about 15 seconds away from pulling off the biggest, most meaningful surprise of my life. When I rang the doorbell I turned to the side so that she couldn’t see me. I turned around when I heard the door open and what happened next was truly one of the best moments of my life. My bestie, took one look at me, screamed with excitement, jumped about two feet in the air, and then started to cry. That moment, and the giant hug that followed, will forever stay with me, in my heart and in my memory, as one of the most joyful moments of my life. In those few seconds, I saw and experienced authentic happiness and love, the kind that only the bestest of friends can share. We jumped and danced and hugged and cried until we heard a gentle squawking in the background. Without a word my bestie disappeared into the next room and when she returned she became a mommy before my eyes. In her arms was the most beautiful little girl I have ever seen. She put BabyBFF in my arms and said “this is your auntie Krista, baby.” 

We spent the next four days together, just the five of us. Catching up, laughing, joking having a couple of glasses of wine (well, bestie had a few sips; I had a couple of glasses). Hubby and I played auntie and uncle and we all laughed about how everything in the universe aligned to ensure that this giant surprise went off without a hitch. So many things could have gone wrong, but they didn’t. I had so many opportunities to say no, but I didn’t. Saying yes to all of the things I would have said no to in this particular situation, brought me more joy than I ever thought it would. And the kicker? The joy was contagious! Bestie was overcome with joy, both husbands expressed their joy – just seeing the two of us together, so happy, made them happy.

Saying good-bye was difficult. Getting back to my everyday life, after an amazing reunion and introduction to BabyBFF was crummy, but… and it’s a giant but, I now carry with me the kind of joy and happiness that only that experience could have brought me. 

My heart is just that much happier having pulled off a much needed surprise for someone so special. 

My life is just that much more full for having met and gotten acquainted with BabyBFF. 

I feel just that much more freedom having broken out from under the power of “no.”