I'm still processing everything that has happened in the past 26 days. I'm sure it may even take years to process everything. I feel grateful, sad, hopeful, nostalgic (yes, already), honored, empowered, confident, exhilarated, and many many other adjectives/adverbs that will never do justice to this life changing experience.
Never waste a good trigger...
I went into training knowing I had the tendency to strive towards perfection. And even though I know its impossible to be perfect, it's a motto I've lived by my whole life. So you can imagine how frustrated I was the first half of my training when I wasn't getting as much "praise" or "attention" or "assists" as my mind had decided I needed in order for training to go perfectly. This is the beauty of working with Ana Forrest. NOTHING in this training happens coincidentally. It all has purpose.
I had such a hard time staying grounded and on my mat. But you better believe I knew everyday who was the one sobbing, who walked in late, who was making the monkey noises (yes, there were very loud monkey noises during the intensive at times). I definitely knew who was getting the assists at all times. I even contemplated "junking up" my poses a little bit just for that attention I desperately craved. And there was my belief on what I would allow my emotional release to be. Beautiful Hollywood style tears rolling down my cheeks were what I envisioned to be the perfect "release" for me.
I had it planned out and it just wasn't going my way. And then I caught myself in a pattern. My self mutilations. What do I do when I'm not in control: I sulk, I pout, I trash talk myself, I give up/quit...I begin to starve my body. I traced back my anorexia as a coping method to deal with that which is not in my control.
So I began to stalk my fear. I decided to use the remainder of my time to try to find the excitement and adventure in not resorting to my usual tendencies. And I thought I was doing well, I felt pretty proud, I thought I had healed myself!!!
Until the assists started rolling in. The first was an assist to my stomach. One of the assistants started kneading in clockwise circles across the organs of my stomach; I had a visceral, autonomic response of tears and gasping breaths (even though I tried my damnest to withhold). Yes, I am no longer anorexic but I had never considered how much scarred tissue was there...I never even touch my stomach. I cried and cried because I heard my body saying "love me, I need it, I need help in healing."
Another day I recall was one in which I swear I was never left alone in any pose I did. It started in wrist stretches when Ana touched my neck to relax it and the tears started pouring out. "Let it go" she gently coached, so I let some "pretty tears" out. That wasn't deep enough. "Let it go" she kept saying all class, "let the perfection go," and then I found myself in warrior I, with her fingers deep under my shoulder blade, choking on my own sobs, crying louder then I think I ever have. I closed my eyes and saw the two year old with her "orthopedic" shoes striving to do anything to be perfect - to please others. And my heart broke for her. "Let it go" she kept saying as we progressed to the apex pose, "it's ok, let it go, you're ok, release it."
By the end of class I was curled up in a fetal position with one of the assistants cradling me like a baby. Intense - sure, powerful - YES.
Perfection...why have I been so wedded to it? It has caused me so much pain. And I know I'm not alone. I decided to burn and bury that sucker here in Chicago. I don't need you perfection, I want a divorce.
And on my last day, I had the perfect words scripted in my head to say to Ana. But when we hugged goodbye, I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I couldn't find any words to say other than "thank you" several times. It wasn't my perfectly envisioned ending, but it was as it should have been...and I wouldn't have it any other way.
