I started yoga this week. I just survived day 4, and I am quite sure I am doing it wrong. I am a terrible meditator! I practice breathing whenever possible, but I am by no means good at it. So I thought yoga could solve two problems I am struggling with this year. I got off the couch last month. I knew that I was very unhappy with my life. At 37 years old I shouldn’t be this out of shape, this angry, and this lost. I keep asking myself; Who am I? Who do I want to be? How am I going to make my thoughts reality? I can’t even focus on breathing for 10 minutes without switching gears in favor of cleaning or doing dishes….by hand. Still, other days I tune completely out, flip on tv to binge watch anything that offers an escape from reality. I can remember that I used to be happy. I was always happy and I thought that people who had bad moods were weird. Now I am weird, because there is no reason for me to be so blase. I live in a wildlife refuge. I have a husband I am just as infatuated with as I was 12 years ago! I have 2 beautiful, funny, interesting children whom I really enjoy! I may not be rich, but I am not poor either (I have experienced poverty and homelessness) and it no longer affects me. I have to pat myself on the back for my triumphs! Yet, I used to enjoy people, and now I choose to avoid them. I still love people! I just don’t care to get to know them. Most people are more lost in their own bullshit then I am. At least I am 100% sure I have a purpose. I actively practice “do no harm”. I simply have no idea what my purpose is. I am apathetic most of the time. I am wasting my time, and I am sick of it. While I write these words; I am thinking about how hard the past 4 days of yoga have been. How depressed I have been this past year. When I asked the universe for help, I had no idea it would challenge me in the ways it has. First, it opened my eyes to new and exciting possibilities. Then, my perception of everything rumbled so that my very core shook. Finally, it all exploded in grand fashion. My husband thought I went crazy. He still likes to remind me of that fact whenever he is less than happy with me. I don’t know how to begin to “manifest” what I want. I use the word manifest with a bit of sarcasm, because so many people have jumped on the spiritual bandwagon without putting in the work. I takes some of the wonder I had felt four years ago away from it. I guess that’s okay, but now the word sounds false to me. I am really hoping a month of pain and breathing through it will give me some perspective. I mean come on universe!!!! The past decade has been a shit show. If I could jump from a moving vehicle at 60 mph and survive, meet the love of my life, overcome a pain pill addiction with him, and have a complete and terrifying spiritual awakening, there must be some joy to come in my future. For my own blogging purposes I think I need to go back to tell my story though. So maybe next time I’ll write about my van jump, its a shitty story of a stupid, rebellious, and very lucky 16 year old me. It is embarrassing to tell.