Hot Mess

Embracing It

Have you tried listening to my personally recorded voiceovers yet? You’ll find the link above the yellow header to click and listen as you read.

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Hello sweet, warm, glistening, sunshine, summer babies. I suppose that greeting leaves out my southern hemisphere readers; may you all be warm, glistening, and finding the sunshine too. I hope everyone has been finding their own way to thrive this July. On social media, I’ve been catching glimpses of people hitting the pool, going to concerts, and licking their melty ice cream cone. I guess I can say I’ve had a chance to do those things too, and what a gift. As far as finding my way to thrive? …Define thrive.

This is not the first time that summertime has felt like all my progress and productivity gained thus far in the first half of the year literally and figuratively melt into a puddle. It’s not that it disappears, so that’s good. It has changed shape and pace. I imagine a box of new, sharp crayons. They are separate, organized by color, and in their sectioned compartments. I look at them, and I’m ready to color! But first, let’s put them on a baking sheet and into the oven at 450 degrees Fahrenheit. It’s not the art project I imagined. It’s a hot mess.

Guys, I’m a hot mess.

And you know what?

I’m okay with it.

It’s taken me a couple weeks to get to this place of being okay with it.

The Friday before last, I fell.

Not like a silly-little-trip kind of fall. I mean a flying-forward-falling-down-stairs kind of fall.

I live in a townhome, so we share a wall with neighbors on either side of us. I often dog-sit my neighbor’s dog when she is out of town, and this was one of those weekends. We live on a hill with a pretty significant slope, so each unit sits noticeably higher than the one before it as you make your way up the hill. It’s quickest and easiest for me to hop up onto my neighbor’s porch straight from the edge of ours, as opposed to going down our front steps, walking around the front bushes on the sidewalk, and then up her front stairs. It’s a direct route hopping from the end of our porch to the side of hers. The only slight obstacle to maneuver is that it’s quite a jump up, much higher than a normal step.

It was a Friday evening, and I had just arrived home from dinner with a mixture of family who live here and some who were visiting. It had a been a packed, busy week, and I admit, I may have slightly overcommitted myself. I left dinner before everyone else because I needed to feed my neighbor’s dog and then change before leaving again to go teach a yoga class. Needless to say, I was on a time crunch, which was basically the case during the whole week. As I was transitioning from family dinner to feeding the dog, I was negatively replaying something I shared in conversation over dinner. I hardly remember what it was about because I now know it didn’t matter. With hindsight, I see I was just getting tired and wearing down at the end of the week, so… cue self critical, problem solving brain that starts to think everyone hates me and the world is ending.

On top of my mind being stuck spinning in a place I physically was 20 minutes prior, I was also moving too quickly and carrying a few things as I made my way over to my neighbor’s house. I jumped up to her porch from ours, just like I always do, but this time, my foot didn’t quite get high enough, and the tip of my slip-on shoe caught the edge of the porch. It caused my body to fly forward, but I didn’t immediately brace my hands for the ground because I was carrying my phone and a glass bottle of borrowed essential oils I was returning to my neighbor. Somewhere in the mix of the fall, I did release those items, cracked a finger nail, and bruised another one. I’ve been staring at the blood that formed under the bruised one for the last week. From the fall forward, I then rolled down the first couple steps of her porch because at the “hopping point” where our porches meet, it’s the top of her steps.

I also cracked a toenail and scraped another toe and both my knees to the point that they were bleeding.

As soon as this fall finally decided to end, I was in shock. I know I made a strange yelp sound, and I wanted to get to sitting upright, off my back, as quickly as possible. I didn’t want any neighbors rushing toward me if they happened to see me fall. One neighbor did see. She is a sweet older woman who wouldn’t be able to come over, even if she wanted to. I see her husband pushing her in and out of the house in a wheelchair. He wheels her out most days to sit in the sun for a while.

I heard her raised voice to me from across the street: “Are you okay?” I nodded. “Just sit there for a minute and catch your breath, okay?”

She was exactly right. I knew I needed to completely stop all movement… and stay stopped for as long as I needed.

I came back to my breath, in and out my nose. I released the tension in my whole body and breathed. I stopped shaking. The pain came into my awareness. Ouch.

The neighbor across the street was still watching me with a quiet, focused, concerned look on her face. I wanted to reassure her that I was okay.

I managed a smile. “I was just moving too fast!” She didn’t say anything else.

I felt okay to go inside and feed the dog. While he was eating, I went into the bathroom to get a piece of toilet paper to wrap around my bleeding toe until I could get back to my house for a bandaid. I leaned down to pull the toilet paper off, and then, with my head still lowered, turned to wrap it around my toe. In that sideways motion reaching for my toe, I hit my head on the door frame!

Welt. Blood.

HOT. MESS.

I was in shock for a second time within the same ten minute window.

As I’m writing this, I think I remember asking the air… as if it was a ghost beating me up… “what is going ON?”

I looked at all my scrapes and swollen spots and the welt on my head and thought about calling out of my yoga class. I needed to finish up with the dog and get back home to really assess the damage.

It turns out it was more psychological than physical damage. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like hell. But nothing actually hindered me from the movements required to teach a yoga class. I just needed a few bandaids… and someone to pray over me.

It was my last night teaching this class. I only taught at this gym for a short season, and it was great while it lasted, but I’ve had to dial in my commitments a bit. I had a 30 minute drive to the gym. I turned on some music and stayed with my breath, still feeling rattled by the fall. I knew I’d incorporate a little dharma talk about slowing down or something at some point during class.

It turns out no students showed up. Normally, I’d just be disappointed. I was to a certain degree because of the drive it takes to get there. This time I was also relieved. I stayed in that room by myself and took 45 minutes to myself. I stayed off the painful spots from the fall. I moved my body and my breath to the music I had playing. I came back to the present moment.

I did go on to teach more yoga classes on Saturday and Sunday, and I shared about my fall. I shared my gratitude for practices like yoga that help me slow down and come back to center when there is a lot spinning around me.

Since then, I have continued to allow myself to slow down when I can. I have been more honest with myself when I feel tired. It has been another busy week, but this time, I’ve honored the spaces in between commitments. I got back to rising a tad earlier so I can have a little open, quiet time in the morning, before heading to the first task or meeting for that day.

I have said no.

I took a nap today.

I let the dirty dishes sit in the sink.

I left some trash by the back door for a couple days.

I made some mistakes with yoga admin and teaching stuff.

I ate junk food because I didn’t have energy to cook.

And you know what?

The most important thing is that I still showed up.

The weather has been HOT. All I’ve wanted to do is stay on my couch in the blessing of my air conditioned house and watch comfort shows with snacks.

I’ve already had my share of those days, and add alcohol to that picture of avoidance.

No, this week, I kept showing up for my people and my commitments, even if it didn’t meet whatever arbitrary perfectionist standard I keep in my head a lot.

By saying no, I honored myself and my honest capacity.

By taking a nap, it gave me a chance to actually soak up and enjoy the new-to-us sectional we bought off my neighbor.

By letting the dirty dishes sit in the sink, I learned that nobody dies when that happens.

By letting the trash sit by the back door for a couple days, it gave the cats a cardboard box to play in.

By making mistakes with yoga admin and teaching stuff, it allowed me to remember that I’m still new. It gave others around me the opportunity to help and share their insight.

By eating junk food, it gave Dom and me a spontaneous late night car date. We pulled away from the Taco Bell drive-through, and we didn’t want to wait until we got home to eat. We pulled into a grocery store parking lot. He carefully lined his soft tacos with mild sauce and ate them one by one. I also drizzled mild sauce on each new layer of my crunch wrap supreme as I devoured it. We ate and laughed and talked about aliens, and I hope I’m never too cool for Taco Bell.

I didn’t feel like writing today. I wanted to go get more junk food and watch Game of Thrones. I still might do that after this.

But first: I show up.

I even painted my nails first so they feel fresh while I type. I got tired of staring at the dried blood under my finger nail from the fall.

I realize now that even though everything is just a little melty and messy right now, it doesn’t mean I’ve lost my dreams and productivity.

It will all solidify again with the next change of season. Whether that’s a life season, a nature season, or both. They are usually connected anyway.

Have you ever felt like this?

Any of you feel like this with me right now?

Let’s raise our melty ice cream cones to being a hot mess!

We are embracing it!

Melt on sunshine summer babies.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash