There's NO Crying In Yoga

Frog Pose: Minute 1
Teacher: What's coming up for you?
Me: (in my head) My Lunch. (I my own joke. This happens often.)
Frog Pose: Minute 2
Teacher: What's coming up for you? 
Me: (in my head) I rocked that crescent twist today, even opened up my wings. Winning! (I laugh my own joke.)
Teacher: "Let it come up..."

I inhale, and on my exhale I sink deeper into Frog Pose...with no expectations of anything coming up. I have no idea what she's talking about. I figured this was the "woo woo" "hippy dippy" side of yoga that I had no interest in.

And came up.

A memory, from a long, long time ago. A hurt. A betrayal. A lie; from someone I loved deeply.

Teacher: (sternly) Let it come UP! Whatever it is, let it COME UP!

In that moment, I'm pissed at him.

Me: (still in my head) NO! It doesn't need to come up. There is no point. It was a long time ago. I've moved on. I'm fine. Call the next pose dammit, my hips are open! (Insert internal 5 year old temper tantrum.)

Frog Pose: Minute 3,573,121 (a slight exaggeration)

Teacher: (softer) Let it come up...and then let it go...

He inhaled loudly and exhaled loudly. A cue for my overwhelmed body, to breath.
I follow suit...inhale...exhale...
And then, I get it. It clicks. I let it come up. I feel it come up.
It starts in the pit of my stomach...inhale...exhale...
And now it's in my throat...inhale...exhale...inhale
I open my mouth and exhale...and then I let it go.
My shoulders sag. My forehead drops to the mat. 
And then, they come. Silent tears running down my face.

Here? Now? For reals? (I'm annoyed!) I read "Eat, Pray Love." She released her divorce from the rooftop of an Ashram in India. People were Om'ing, there was a blue light from heaven. It was poetic! 
But, that is not my story. I'm here in this space.

It's f'ng hot and I'm drenched in sweat. Someone's cell phone is chiming in a cubby. There is a faceless man painted on the front wall, and every time I look at him, I see dog faces.  

I cannot explain, what happened in that moment. I don't understand it. Perhaps that's the beauty in yoga.  The union of our body, our mind and our soul.
In that moment, I released the story of my divorce. The story I'd been telling myself for almost 10 years.

A story is often like a lie. When you lie, you must tell another lie to cover up the first lie, and so on and so on. 

I had built a life around the story and the lies. The lies were...the marriage ended because I wasn't thin enough...I wasn't pretty enough and I didn't make enough money. And so, I worked out, wore more makeup and made more money. 

Every lie was a brick, stacked on a wall that grew higher and higher every year. The wall kept you from getting close. Because if you can't get close, I can't get hurt. That was my story. 

That was the story I gave up that day.  

I've given up the need to understand it, and decided to just go with it.

Maryeth A. LoriauxComment