I have built up so many barriers to protect myself from things I didn't want to deal with and following this path requires tearing them down.
I have to allow myself to feel.
I have to allow myself to be open and receptive and to sit with emotions even when it sucks.
I have to learn how to be open and raw.
I have to learn how to be ok with that and not try to hide it all the time.
I have to learn how to accept that sometimes I'm going to pick up other people's bullshit and that it's ok to sit with that, too, but then I have to let it go because it's not mine.
I have to do this because I believe this is the me I was always meant to be.
I have to learn how to live outside of my comfort zone.
I mentioned to MonkeySee that he had been like that at twelve, too, and that we all lived through that. He confided that, while he didn't really remember much about twelve, whenever he did remember something, he felt embarassed for himself.
Which is a pretty accurate description of how twelve goes down.
Lost Trail 5K - A Race Report (The only race I ran in 2012)
I milled around some more and then, when I heard the ten minute warning announced, I had SweetPea pin on my bib, gathered my stuff and headed towards the port-a-potties again. I was somewhat concerned by the sudden distinct lack of runners milling about, and then someone saw me and told me the 5K had already started.
I missed the start of the race.
When I was a kid, and I'd sit in an audience and listen to applause, I was always awed by how beautiful, harmonious, thunderous everyone else's clapping sounded. Mine was so hollow and funky sounding. I couldn't figure out why everyone else sounded so much better than me.
It took a few years, but eventually I figured out that no one person's clapping was that awesome, all by itself. It was the whole of us, clapping together, that created that amazing sound.
I assume you are the same women who feel it is appropriate to hover over public toilets because they're "filthy", notwithstanding that the filthiest thing about them is the urine you just sprayed all over the seat for the next person.
Knock it off.
3. You don't interact with others.
The best part of twitter is the part where we talk to each other. I've said before that twitter is like a chat room where we get to pick the participants. So participate! I'm not saying you have to respond to every fucking tweet, but if someome replies to you directly, you should, you know. Respond. Acknowledge that person. It's polite, asshole.
Gomi uses "zoomies" to help pack up the tents. It was not very effective.
You know. Some days are just this day. Yes, I absofuckinglutely backed my van's ass into one of those pole things at the gas station. You know. The bright yellow ones. In my own defense, it was the first time I've ever done such a thing. And, like I said... Some days are just that day.
And, look. I'm not going to tell you that the class was amazing and I was brilliant. Because, dude. Of course not. I was rusty and out of practice and hesitant and forgetful. My cueing was inconsistent and frequently uninspired. The class was possibly not challenging enough, didn't flow right or cover all of the things it should have. I did a sequence all up once side of the body and then forgot when I had to recreate it for the second side (I remembered, but it may have involved a water break and leaving the class in chair pose a little longer).