Mind Chatter During TT
It is inevitable. After doing 2 classes a day, everyday for 9 weeks [sometimes the classes are longer than 1.5 hours. Once we were treated to a 2-hour class by 2-hour Ted. Yes, that is his official nickname], you sometimes just want to TURN OFF. It can’t be helped. Sometimes, you are tired. Your mind fights you [isn’t it always the case?]. You are mentally, physically, emotionally a wreck. On the outside, so what if my skin’s glowing but inside I feel like a bulldozer just rolled on my heart, my mind is making whimpering noises and my self is making accusations about my character and judgement.
The main thing that happens during TT is the breaking of your ego, or self. The self that tells you that you don’t need to go to class today, that you are ugly / fat / a total loser, the same self that is also the cause of many a self-destructive behaviour.
It was during Thursday of Week 2 [you know, the extremely hot class when it got up to 65Celcius – fuck me sideways!] that I had my first.. breakthrough.
So here goes my mental chatter :
Oh my GOD. It’s hot. My towel’s ALREADY soaked. What the hell?
*Half Moon Pose*
Ehhh, it’s not tooo bad. Just like a very balmy day back home. Just breathe.
*Head to Knee*
Yup, just like being stuck in the car on a hot day. Move along.
*Standing Bow Pose*
You have to be shitting me. This is insanely hot. Like, MOTHERFUCKING SNAKES ON A PLANE HOT.
*Standing Separate Leg Stretching Pose*
OW OW OW MY FEET. MY FEET. MY FEET. [I found out later that they have heating panels UNDER the floor… yikes!]
Get. Up. Get the FUCK up. GET UP. DO IT. COME ON. DO IT.
*Standing Separate Leg Head to Knee Pose*
Stand up. Get up. Do it. You’re such a fucking failure. GET UP. Motherfucker, don’t just STAND there and cry. GET. UP. SHUT UP.
You stupid crying sissy. You are much stronger than this. GET. UP. Fucker, GET UP. You didn’t PAY to come here and CRY. GET UP GET UP GET UP. GET THE FUCK UP.
You’re a fucking failure. Just LOOK AT YOU. Look at you. Fucking mess, fucking failure. You got a degree in Spanish and Italian that you didn’t even use in your job? Oh, what was your job? THAT’S RIGHT – a copywriter. Did you even win any awards huh? Oh, runner-up / special mention, that is mighty fucking fine. Not a gold, right? Get up. I said, GET THE FUCK UP. Stop shaking your head like that. GET UP. I don’t fucking CARE if you can’t feel your hands, GET. UP. What do you mean your foot is cramped? Fuck you! YOU ARE WEAK AND AN IMBECILE, YOU CAN’T EVEN FINISH ONE CLASS IN WEEK FUCKING TWO. YOU FUCKING WEAKLING. IS IT ANY WONDER THAT YOU ARE THE BLACK SHEEP OF THE FAMILY? THAT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE WEAK WEAK WEAK WEAK WEAK WEAK WEAK. YOUR FATHER THINKS YOU’RE A FUCKING FAILURE IN LIFE AND HE IS RIGHT. YOU CAN’T EVEN LOSE WEIGHT, YOU CAN’T EVEN KEEP A STEADY JOB, YOU EVEN FAILED WHEN YOU TRIED TO OFF YOURSELF 5 YEARS AGO. YOU ARE A FUCKING FAILURE. YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A…
I said. Shut. Up.
Total silence engulfed me. Just like that, my self – the one that told me that throughout my whole life I would never amount to anything great – died that day. The same self that let my Self be picked on, covered up and buried.
Oh it didn’t end there. By Cobra pose, the chatter was still there – though not as loud. That same self was urging me to STAY IN THE ROOM, or risk looking like a total fuck-up [Come on, you’re MALAYSIAN. Are you going to embarrass the whole country by giving up NOW?].
After Cobra, when my hands were numb, my face was locked in a perpetual frozen stare with my jaws clamped shut [Botox!], that’s when my body said “Enough. Get me out of here, before I start foaming and send us back home in a cardboard box labelled “Remains” ! ”
So I limped outside, helped by Fiona, to where the cold acrid desert air greeted me and cups of Gatorade, Powerade and Pedialyte with EXTRA SALT poured forth from the nurse.
All around me – there it was. People crying, shivering, hands clamped in lobster claws. Amidst chaos, that was where WE found IT – the silence, the death of our self and the rebirth of our Self – underneath layers of tears, fears and inner ghouls.