You'll know exactly where I am
Jan. 16th, 2018 08:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
missroseroseI had an interesting experience with yoga teaching and anxiety yesterday.
Like most people prone to anxiety issues, I have good days and bad days. I learn what's likely to trigger anxious days (low blood sugar, which in me is directly linked to crappy diet; overfull schedules; fear of disappointing people) and figure out ways to avoid or minimize them (wholesome food, physical exercise, good time management, shifting my focus from mental triggers). But, like most people with anxiety, even with all the management skills in the world I'll fall down on something now and then, or just have a day when everything feels looming and threatening for some reason I can't control or haven't identified yet.
In any case, yesterday was a bad day. Not awful; on the worst days my brain feels like a hamster trapped in a wheel, running faster and faster trying to escape the feedback loop and never getting anywhere. On the worst days my body dumps regular shots of adrenaline into my bloodstream; sleep is nearly impossible and focus difficult.
This was just a bad day. The adrenaline-based fight-or-flight response wasn't fully present, but it was looming, hovering around the edges, just waiting for a sequence unwary thoughts to trigger it, for the hamster to start running in its wheel. Some of this might have been that I have a fairly full week planned. And some of it might be that it was Monday, when I teach my C2 class. Even though I'm generally feeling less hapless in the format, as my near-disaster a couple of weeks ago demonstrated, I'm far from comfortable with it.
In any case, teaching my afternoon C1 helped (somewhat ironically, despite the anticipation being a trigger, both teaching and massage themselves are great salves for anxiety - they require precisely the kind of focus and mindfulness that help restore mental balance), as did taking my usual Monday afternoon class. Afterward, I was sitting in the studio going over my sequence, and there was some lovely meditative music playing over the PA, and I had a passing thought that I know I've had before - something to the effect of "Wow, this music sounds so relaxing. I wish I could be that relaxed right now."
And it occurred to me - why not? What was stopping me? There were two classes in session and no one due in the studio lobby for a good twenty minutes; I could try meditating for five minutes or so without interruption.
So I set my work aside, and set the little "Breathe" app on my Apple Watch to five minutes (it gives rhythmic vibrational feedback to encourage you to breathe mindfully). And I sat and just...breathed. Noticed where I was tense, encouraged myself to relax, listened to the pretty music.
And nobody died. My class wasn't a disaster. I wasn't as Zen as I would like to be, but there was a distinct improvement in my state of mind while teaching. Even though I forgot a chunk of the last sequence, I just added it in at the end. It wasn't my best class by a long shot, but I felt better about it than I have about some of my objectively better ones.
None of this is particularly revelatory - we're all aware that we do better at difficult focus-requiring tasks when we're not anxious, and it's well-documented that meditation and mindfulness practices are good at controlling anxiety. I think, for me, what made it feel so novel was the fact that, rather than just having the passing thought and then going right back to the anxiety, I said to myself, "Why not? What's the worst that's likely to happen if I just...breathe?"
I think I'm going to have to ask myself that more often.
Like most people prone to anxiety issues, I have good days and bad days. I learn what's likely to trigger anxious days (low blood sugar, which in me is directly linked to crappy diet; overfull schedules; fear of disappointing people) and figure out ways to avoid or minimize them (wholesome food, physical exercise, good time management, shifting my focus from mental triggers). But, like most people with anxiety, even with all the management skills in the world I'll fall down on something now and then, or just have a day when everything feels looming and threatening for some reason I can't control or haven't identified yet.
In any case, yesterday was a bad day. Not awful; on the worst days my brain feels like a hamster trapped in a wheel, running faster and faster trying to escape the feedback loop and never getting anywhere. On the worst days my body dumps regular shots of adrenaline into my bloodstream; sleep is nearly impossible and focus difficult.
This was just a bad day. The adrenaline-based fight-or-flight response wasn't fully present, but it was looming, hovering around the edges, just waiting for a sequence unwary thoughts to trigger it, for the hamster to start running in its wheel. Some of this might have been that I have a fairly full week planned. And some of it might be that it was Monday, when I teach my C2 class. Even though I'm generally feeling less hapless in the format, as my near-disaster a couple of weeks ago demonstrated, I'm far from comfortable with it.
In any case, teaching my afternoon C1 helped (somewhat ironically, despite the anticipation being a trigger, both teaching and massage themselves are great salves for anxiety - they require precisely the kind of focus and mindfulness that help restore mental balance), as did taking my usual Monday afternoon class. Afterward, I was sitting in the studio going over my sequence, and there was some lovely meditative music playing over the PA, and I had a passing thought that I know I've had before - something to the effect of "Wow, this music sounds so relaxing. I wish I could be that relaxed right now."
And it occurred to me - why not? What was stopping me? There were two classes in session and no one due in the studio lobby for a good twenty minutes; I could try meditating for five minutes or so without interruption.
So I set my work aside, and set the little "Breathe" app on my Apple Watch to five minutes (it gives rhythmic vibrational feedback to encourage you to breathe mindfully). And I sat and just...breathed. Noticed where I was tense, encouraged myself to relax, listened to the pretty music.
And nobody died. My class wasn't a disaster. I wasn't as Zen as I would like to be, but there was a distinct improvement in my state of mind while teaching. Even though I forgot a chunk of the last sequence, I just added it in at the end. It wasn't my best class by a long shot, but I felt better about it than I have about some of my objectively better ones.
None of this is particularly revelatory - we're all aware that we do better at difficult focus-requiring tasks when we're not anxious, and it's well-documented that meditation and mindfulness practices are good at controlling anxiety. I think, for me, what made it feel so novel was the fact that, rather than just having the passing thought and then going right back to the anxiety, I said to myself, "Why not? What's the worst that's likely to happen if I just...breathe?"
I think I'm going to have to ask myself that more often.
