mental health (the winter arc), hot yoga, and raising your ceiling of endurance
AHHH HI!
It’s been a while since I’ve written anything here and I feel elated to again be doing so.
If my writing is technically rusty, please bear with me and I’ll hope none of my high school english teachers see this. (My history teacher follows me on Instagram. Love her dearly.) Ok, let’s get into it.
I’ve spent four winters in Portland so far and up until this one, I’d been in the trenches as far as seasonal depression goes. The analogy I’ve historically used to describe my relationship with it is: “if it were a person, I’d be fist fighting them in these Portland streets”. It’s the villain of the winter arc in the solar system that is my life. However, this winter, she seems to be willingly on sabbatical. The cool thing is, after many years of therapy in college (quite literally saved my life) and prioritizing learning my mental health post-grad, I finally figured out how to send her there.
I feel like I’ve lived through so many versions of myself and grown through a variety of different mental states since moving to Portland. While street fighting as a form of defense and exercise isn’t part of my personal cure, other forms of exercise are. Enter, dance and hot yoga.
I’ve taken four dance classes so far since returning to it (I used to take dance alongside gymnastics). The first two [classes] near the end of last year, the third and fourth these last two weeks. It’s been challenging using my brain and body in the specific ways required after having not for years. However, given the fresh restart, I think I’m also eating it up. For the sake of context, as well as the main points I’d like to make in this piece, we’ll talk (more in depth) about dance another time. As previously mentioned, the other star of the show this season is hot yoga.
I’m not a doctor but I am someone who has felt (many times) what it’s like to be perpetually depressed during the winter. That being said, I highly recommend trying new forms of exercise. It’s been so helpful. Start slow, ask a friend (or two) to come with you if you need/want, and be gentle with yourself. You’ve got this.
On Sundays as of lately, I slide on a sports bra, spandex shorts, sweatpants, socks, an oversized crewneck (most likely thrifted from some men’s section), “j-slips”, every so often try to shove my yoga mat in my backpack (even though I’ve proven to myself time and time again that it doesn’t fit) and rush off to the yoga studio. Sometimes it feels like all of that is the hardest part of it all, regardless of taking the actual class.
As much as I’d like to always romanticize getting ready and going to yoga (or going to exercise in general), it’s a 50/50 on whether or not it’s actually romantic. There have been plenty of times where I’ve dragged myself out of bed 30 minutes before class starts, reluctantly thrown my clothes on as if it’s an olympic sport I don’t qualify for and made it into the building three minutes before I’m officially late (sometimes with even less time to spare). I find myself needing to remind myself that it’s not something I have to do but rather something I get to do, and that helps.
Rewind to two Sundays ago, I got to the studio (two minutes before class), ran to the locker room and shoved my sweats along with my backpack into a random locker. I walked out only to notice that my typical instructor wasn’t in the practice room but in full sweats, nonchalantly drinking ginger tea in the lobby.
Fuck. Did I actually miss class this time? Or an announcement about the schedule changing?
I ignored the slight internal panic and made my way into the practice room any way; almost immediately greeted by familiar faces. I set up my mat in the back left corner and lightly stretched out. In walked our new instructor; a tall Black man who introduced himself by the name “Renaissance”. We began almost instantly. “We’ll start by meeting in child’s pose” he says, and everyone follows suit. From there we were moving.
Flowing from pose to pose, minimal rest time in between, sweat traveling down my forehead, through my brows and into my eyes, biceps burning, core warm [as hell]. Right before we’d move into a difficult pose and/or flow, Renaissance would say “Don’t be mad, you’ve got this”. On the most difficult exercise, near the end of the practice, he said “I’m doing this because I love you. Trust your body”. It’s interesting how a stranger’s verbal belief in you and the strength of your body can make you want to push yourself [harder].
Admittedly, this was the first class I’d been to where I had to mentally ask myself and physically answer two specific questions; “Can I take more of this?” and “Can I push this further?”. I asked myself at least three times during this class. Looking back, each time I answered, they were yes’.
When it comes to exercise, and I’m positive this is related to my sports background, I find myself often being a “hurts too good” type of person. There’s something about using all of my physical strength in pursuit of a goal. Something about not only seeing how much my body can handle, but witnessing how my body and brain talk to one another in moments where “the choice is mine”. Something about feeling fully in my body to the highest physical extent, even when obvious discomfort is present. It feels good to know I “have that dog” in me.
At the end of class, during śavāsana, Renaissance closed with something that deeply resonated with me:
“You deserve to rest but you deserve to witness your strength too.”
I think I felt the sentiment of his words on a core level because it sometimes feels easy to question and/or lose sight of the extent of your own capabilities. I feel like those words can be kept in mind as a tool while answering the two questions I mentioned earlier. What if our ceiling of endurance naturally rises when we begin to effectively ask and answer those questions? What if that’s a result of intentionally choosing temporary discomfort as well as intentionally choosing rest?
The class reminded me of a few things: 1. I can’t actually decide what my limits are nor truly know my own strength if I’m not brave enough to push the needle for fear of experiencing discomfort. 2. Discomfort and pushing my perceived limits aren’t inherently negative things. 3. We’re often much more capable than we think or believe ourselves to be. This can go for multiple aspects of life.
Rest and self-care are important, especially in relation to the world we live in and the systems we’re subjected to. In the same breath, I think engaging in opportunities/moments to witness, recognize and improve our strength are equally so. I don’t think said strength is exclusively physical either, but can include our emotional, spiritual, social and/or creative bodies too (which all intertwine in my opinion).
I think the more we rebel against the voice(s) that tell us we can’t, the easier it becomes to move forward regardless. The more we practice rebelling in small ways, the more capable we become to do so in greater ways.
It’s cool to decide to make shit shake. It’s also cool to choose rest so that we’re able to step back and recognize our strength after utilizing it. It’s even cooler to learn to trust and know ourselves deeply enough to decide when to choose either one or both.
Okay, that’s all for now y’all. You’re so capable, so many of us are. Make the choice to believe in yourself and those around you!
So much love baby.
xx, -des