I hate yoga.
There, I said it, and I’ll say it again.
I. Hate. Yoga.
I took my first class when I was pregnant with my first child. I had heard how wonderful prenatal yoga was, so decided to give it a try. I found a studio, bought a pass and went to the classes (until my blood pressure got too high, and I was told to stop) after work. As I moved my body into the various poses, I found my mind wandering.
I hope my centers run smoothly tomorrow.
What am I cooking for dinner tonight?
I wonder what will happen in Vampire Diaries tonight. That Damon… le sigh….
Not exactly the calming and amazing experience I had hoped for.
Since then I have tried a class here, watched a video there. But still nothing. I thought perhaps I hadn’t found “the one” for me. I wanted so badly to like yoga. To be that person who posted about how amazing yoga made me felt. I mean I’m a SAHM who blogs, aren’t I also supposed to love yoga?? So I kept trying to find that class that would give me the after yoga glow I yearned so badly for. The class that would help me feel the peace that everyone talks about after a good yoga sesh. But I never found it. With yoga, there were no life-changing epiphanies. No feeling the stress melt away (in fact I feel more stressed as I felt I just wasted time when I could have been on the elliptical machine). During and after a yoga class I felt nothing. Nada. Zip.
So I came to the realization that I do not like yoga. I hate all the be still, take a deep breath in, and let it out slowly. It does nothing for me. Absolutely nothing. Instead of calming me down it just makes me more jittery and slightly agitated. I wonder when we can speed things along and move on to the next pose. I’ve never been one to sit still (ask my husband he can attest to the fact that I am always moving), so why on earth would it be any different for yoga? In the end, perhaps I did get an epiphany from yoga. The epiphany that I don’t like yoga. More importantly that I don’t like yoga.
I repeat it’s OK to not like yoga. It is just not for me. At all. I am a stay at home mom. I am a blogger. I am a coffee and wine lover. But a yogi? I am not. No matter what, you will never see #yogiforlife or #namaste (unless it’s #namasteinbed) on my Instagram feed. Sure I own a pair (or two or three) of yoga pants, but you know what? They are great for when I bust a move with my kids in the kitchen or when I’m lifting weights or better yet, going on a run. Why keep trying to force myself to like something, when in the end, I’m left unhappy and unsatisfied? So I decided to part ways with yoga, and enjoy the things that do bring me joy and peace.
