30 Days of Yoga - Release

Updated: Mar 11, 2018

Ok, so it's day twenty two of my attempt at thirty days of at-home yoga practice with You Tube star Adriene Mishler, and I feel there's an elephant in the room. Which you may or may not be aware of.





The blogging.


This has been creeping up on me day after day (you know, as elephants do) but today, I have to be honest, it is crushing me under its weight.


As I sit here at my laptop at 9pm, dutifully trying to write this blog post whilst scoffing dark chocolate in a mortifyingly desperate fashion, my feet are smarting from the hours I've just spent in the kitchen, not to mention the running around I have done for two poorly men all day, and it's not over yet. The Lads are still not in bed and I'm currently waiting for the Tesco man to deliver our week's supply of shit.


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In fact, I got as far as the end of that last paragraph when Big Lad stormed into the room and demanded to know how long he has to take that disgusting yellow stuff (Amoxycillin). When I stated 'five or six days', he wailed like a banshee, threw his head back (thus spraying snot everywhere) and stormed out of the room, stubbing his toe hard on the doorframe as he went. Thus began a tantrum that thrashed through every room in the house before it ended, finally, on my knee, Big Lad weeping that his life was over and that he'd never be able to do fun things again.


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I got as far as the end of THAT paragraph and was summoned to the Lads' bedroom by another coughing, spluttering altercation due to the fact that Big Lad could not find a position in bed that allowed him to breathe, yet Little Lad was happily showing him how clearly he could breathe with a variety of advanced breathing techniques (Adriene would be proud). This particular crisis ended in me propping Big lad up with a plethora of pillows and rubbing Vicks Vapour Rub into his chest a la Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory. And yes, I sang Soft Kitty.





If we think back to a million years ago - aka day one - I explained that this whole shebang was not just a yoga challenge, but a blogging challenge too. It is no mean feat to find an hour or two during the day to write and record your goings-on. And not just your actions, but reflecting on learning curves, sharing observations and potentially some pretentious claptrap about spiritual growth. But that's what I've done. For twenty two days.


The yoga, let's be honest here, is a gift I give to myself each day. Yes, sometimes it is HARD and I might fall in a heap on the floor. But I generally get back up again with a smile on my face as I know that ultimately, this is good for me.


The blogging, however, gets shoe-horned in, usually at the end of a long day, whilst sleep is clawing at my eyelids and Netflix is calling my name. I'm telling you, the struggle is REAL.


Incidentally, today's yoga video was called 'Release', which could be why I am letting this all out now. I have swung my way through various energising pranayama exercises (which I LOVED, by the way) and apparently dipped my toes into kundalini and hatha yoga techniques. Now, I would not know kundalini or hatha yoga if they bit me square on the arse, but I can tell you that I felt amazing after today's practice. I felt present, liberated and strong.


And TRUE.





Isn't that what this is all about? Being TRUE in whatever form that takes? True to myself, true to the moment, true to the world and true to you, my beautiful readers? I need to be true to you!


Because if I hadn't known that you were reading these mental blog posts, I doubt I would have got this far. Blogging, I am starting to realise, can be empowering and uplifting, but it can also drift dangerously into self-doubt.


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Hang on, Tesco man is here.


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Right, I'm back. The frozen shit has been put away but the rest can blood well wait. Blogger at work.


As I was saying, I need to be true to you. And if I hadn't been, there's no way I could have carved out this time each day, no way I could have brought myself to sit in front of a blank laptop screen unless I knew I was bringing warmth and honesty to what I was writing. I hope, that somehow through the words I have chosen, you have been able to sense that truth.


There are a million and one mummy bloggers out there - and some of them are really very good. It would be pointless to try and be like anyone else, to try to tell somebody else's story. Because this is just me. Abi. Warts and all. From the hubby's lung collapsing at five in the morning to the endless charisma and terror of my Lads. You've had it all. And for that, I thank you.


Now I must go because apparently Little Lad's arm has shrunk and he can't reach the tap to get a drink of water.


Go well,


Abi




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