CHAPTER 1
Want A ProblemWith That Problem?
Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Was I overlydramatic because I was a well-loved young girl whowanted for nothing? Or, was it simply my nature? Either way,I found myself growing up to be a vibrant, confident younglady who had a knack—or perhaps you could say, a flare—forthe overdramatic. I remember being a kid and my dad tryingto explain to me that there is a difference between a "bugscream" and a "rape scream". Somehow, even as a young child,everything was worth screaming over ... and loudly.
As a young adult, I studied and was fascinated by yoga andmeditation, learning about the body's response to stress. I wastaught that if you react to a stimulus, any stimulus—yes evenstubbing your toe—with the same intensity as if your housewas on fire, your poor body does not know the difference. Thestress hormones that your body will create will be the same.Your breathing will get just as shallow; your mind will race,your heart will pound, and the anxiety will be real.
I attended a yoga class one fateful Monday evening. Theinstructor had a lovely peaceful energy about him, and he spokewith a thick South American accent. As he began to lead usthrough our practice, he kept telling us to "just breathe." Slowlythe room got hotter and hotter and I began to realize that hewas heating the room. We were mat to mat, like sardines pilednearly on top of one another, and as the heat grew and the beadsof sweat began to form on my forehead, I began to feel veryuncomfortable. Our teacher walked through the room verycalmly as we all began to huff and heave. He gently remindedus that if we kept breathing with ease, all would be well. Easyfor him to say, he wasn't trapped between sweaty bodies withhis head between his knees.
He asked us to move into a lunge position, and as I raised myarms over my head, and my legs began to shake uncontrollably.I had the sudden urge to swear at him, to curse the entire studio,and bolt. He began to speak more forcefully to us now, "Steady,steady!" He told us to ground down, and reminded us that whenthe mind told us to quit, the body would go on, but only if wefocused and breathed. I was shaking inside and out, confidentthat my legs would give out at any moment, and my boneswould simply break. It was official: I was dying.
Finally, after several minutes of pain and torture, we camedown from the pose and the entire room sighed loudly, as ifcollectively telling him that he was being an asshole. Calmly, hetold us to step into a forward fold, completely unaffected by ourhatred towards him. The next thing I know, as I held oppositeelbows and let my torso hang over my legs, he approached me.I hoped he would walk right on by, but, of course, he stoppedat my mat and placed a hand tenderly on my low back. With awarm smile on his face, he softly told me to breath, and thenproceeded to press down hard, rooting me into place, whileurging my head forward until it was between my shins. Thelevel of panic I felt was epic. I was anxious and terrified. I wascertain that my spine was about to shatter and the backs of myknees were going to snap. I began to cry. I didn't care who heardme—this man was about to murder me! To my tears and sobs,he answered serenely, "Yes, that's right."
Wondering who this sociopath was and how he got a jobhere, was the only distraction from my agony. Then suddenlyfrom deep within my body, there came a beautiful release, asoftening. Suddenly, my body flopped with ease over my legsand beyond. Some tightness I had been carrying for years, orperhaps my whole life, just let go. The tears flowed now, notfrom pain, but from freedom. All the drama released, leavingbehind only the real, vulnerable, quiet me.
Once I released the stress, the drama miraculously ceased tohave power. I began to understand that in these moments, when Iwas facing one stress, many other sources of stress in my life andbody, come out of hiding. So, a situation that got under my skindays ago, which I brushed off, now suddenly bothers me again,only now with more ferocity and intensity. On that particularday, in that particular yoga pose, I was suddenly mad at theworld, my body, every job I didn't get, and every unhealed pain.
So why do we do this? Why do we spiral down the rabbit holeso dramatically when one thing goes...
