Feeling... too attached

I don't want to start a war but I am not excited about Ryan Seacrest hosting Wheel of Fortune

A few weeks ago while on a short trip back home to see family, I was notified abruptly that my yoga studio, my second home, would be closing in five days. In an effort to deny the shocking news and suppress my looming grief, I immediately started doing mental gymnastics to see how many classes I could fit in two days when I returned to San Diego. Unfortunately for me, my schedule only allowed for one class, and it wasn’t even with my favorite instructor. 

While an abrupt closure to a yoga studio where I had deeply connected to myself over the past three years does in fact merit a reaction of disappointment, I immediately noticed how intensely the news affected me days later. I caught myself crying funeral tears at one point, feeling surprised at my big reaction. Yoga had become a cornerstone of my weeks, grounding me in a much-welcomed, predictable routine during an otherwise uncertain and untethered period in my life (read more on that here). Ironically, despite yoga’s central teaching of detachment, I had become attached - to the routine, to the familiar comfort of the quiet, warm, dark room waiting for me, to my trusty spot next to the wall. My yoga routine was dependable and consistent, a sturdy anchor and a reliable life raft during a time where I’ve been feeling lost at sea.  All of that was about to fall away, and there I would be, left with myself.

As I felt my grief, other areas of my life where I had become too attached started to reveal themselves. Recently, a friend announced she got a promotion and will be moving away. Thrilled for her but devastated for our friend group, I found myself denying reality and instead plotting the most epic bucket-list summer a girl gang could ever dream of. Already having instated a shared calendar with my chosen crew, I began counting weekends and making plans as if the end of the world were actually coming, determined to go out with a bang. Again I noticed my attachment. I had convinced myself that a perfectly intact friend group, just like the reliability of my yoga studio, was innate to my survival. But the truth is, I’m not the one moving, the world is not ending, and I can still practice yoga at other studios.

It took me a while to admit it, but quitting my job and venturing down this unconventional, unpredictable path has me feeling more insecure than ever in every category of life. That’s why I’ve been clinging to anything and everything lately, and that’s why these otherwise small and trivial changes feel so devastating. Even the slightest upset to any remaining sense of stability or identity these things gave me sends me out of orbit. I guess that’s what happens when I cling to things outside of me: the winds of change blow and if I’m not deeply rooted in myself, it feels like I bend and break.

I began noticing how many other stories I’ve clung to to feel secure. I’ve told myself as long as my husband still thinks I’m cool and hot, maybe I don’t suck as bad as I sometimes feel. Or as long as my family approves of my choices, I’m doing life right. I even noticed myself clinging to the familiar background noise of Wheel of Fortune, feeling completely devastated that Pat Sajak is actually retiring. How will America go on without him? How will I go on? I don’t think I can handle much more disruption.

I also noticed the correlation between my attached, co-dependent energy, its corresponding emotions (hello anxiety), and the physical tension in my body. The more attached I feel, the more fear and anxiety I feel when something changes, and the more physical pain and tension I feel in my body - specifically my pelvic floor. For about the last nine months, I’ve been experiencing on-and-off symptoms of what’s called a hypertonic pelvic floor. My pelvic floor muscles are in a constant state of flection, resulting in symptoms similar to a UTI but without the actual infection. I’ve noticed this “phantom infection” (not a real medical term because remember I’m not a doctor) flares up when I feel stress and anxiety about changes I can’t control, as if my body were shouting at me to loosen my grip and remember who is actually in charge here.

I took up tapping out of desperation, pleading with the universe to relieve me of the random but recurring, very annoying pain. If you’re unfamiliar with tapping, it’s a method of meditation sometimes referred to as the Emotional Freedom Technique, where you tap on certain meridians on the body while acknowledging whatever is bothering you and choosing peace and serenity anyway. I’m on a four-week streak so far and I’ve noticed that in addition to feeling slightly less clenched (physically and metaphorically), I also feel more mental space. It’s almost as if allowing my body to relax is helping me let go of the aforementioned unhealthy attachments, and now when I write my morning pages, I can barely fill three. This is quite a change for me considering I used to dump my daily ruminations in record time, filling at least five pages immediately upon waking. Now I catch myself in the middle of page two looking around the room, staring at the wall, surprised at the blank space in my mind.

The mental space I’ve gained from tapping has made me realize just how much I’ve been focusing on things outside of myself to feel good. I feel like that lady from the meme where all the advanced equations float around her perplexed face, as if my reality is transforming before my eyes. 

So you’re telling me, the only thing I need to do is focus on my relationship with myself???

I have been treating my friend group as an extension of myself, when in reality, it’s just another external experience I’m passing through. I have been treating my yoga studio like a prosthetic limb I can’t live without, but the truth is, yoga isn’t really about the place or even the postures; it’s about the teachings (like detachment) I practice off the mat that make me a “real yogi” (if there is such a thing). And sure, Pat Sajak is practically an American institution, but we will find a way to carry on. We always have. We always will. 

I guess I will too. I’ve already exhausted every option outside of myself. The only real, constant thing left to choose is me. Now, instead of outsourcing my well-being to people or yoga or the comfortable familiarity of America’s favorite game show, I’m finally realizing that I have to take full responsibility for myself. My career won’t save me. My friend group will ebb and flow. Yoga studios will open and close. If I really want to feel good, I’ve got to conjure peace from within.

Believe it or not, I think I know where to go from here. More on this revelation soon. 

Until my next big feeling, 

Kacie