This screen in front of us makes an easy scapegoat for us to avoid the responsibility of showing up for each other. And who are we, really, when no one is looking?
The origin of self-hatred starts with the map of stretch marks etched down the backs of my legs, carved like lace down my thighs, hugging my waist and tattooed deeply into my breasts.
The moment the words “my mother died of lung cancer” fell from my lips, I would notice a subtle shift of light in the eyes of the person I was speaking to.
We want to know that we aren’t alone here, in this busy life, with all of her wonderous-and-confusing distractions. We want to know that someone else feels something we feel, or thinks something we think—we want to know that our shame, pain or (insert your secret here) doesn’t make us hideous or undeserving of love.
What didn’t go away was that feeling of being awkward in my body. Pilates and yoga practice changed that for me. Now I feel graceful, like the dancer I could never be as a child.
Have you been slacking off in the yoga department lately? We have, and we’ve used up every excuse in the book – too expensive, too busy, no clean clothes left to wear, ugh! One time, we even talked ourselves out of going to a class by hypothesizing that our streetcar would break down and we’d… Read More »