One time of day seems to be the most difficult, and that's right around 5 p.m. Every day at that time I start to lose steam, the world gets very heavy, and I wonder how many more minutes are in the night, how much more time until the next book-end in my world of perpetual waiting. I feel best in the morning when I wake up, get some "to-do" items done, maybe go to yoga or for a walk, and indulge in a little coffee. But in the afternoon my demons come back. How many calories have I eaten today? What should I be doing right now to keep up the optimal level of productivity? Why don't I have any energy? When am I going to get into treatment? Why am I so selfish, putting this burden on my family? The thoughts hum in my head and I usually find myself in a chair somewhere, simultaneously whimpering like a child and cursing like a sailor. 5 o'clock steals my ability to make a decision; a good friend yesterday said, "just let me know what will make you feel better." I had no idea. I think everyone has their rough time of day. It's 8:49 a.m. and I'm looking at the slug of my sister curled up on the couch, eyes half open, staring at cartoons. This is her's. In about an hour she'll be a bouncing butterfly but right now I've just got to let her simmer. At 5 o'clock she'll do me the same honor.
This morning I took a yoga class that uses weights, burns calories and is more intense than the ones I've been relegating myself to this week. I mostly chose the class because it fit my schedule, but I would be lying if I said the intensity of the workout wasn't appealing. As soon as I had those weights in my hand I felt the familiar pride and endorphins that "hooked" me in the first place. But as I watched myself pump the iron, the guilt threatened to pull my downward-facing dog all the way to the ground. "I shouldn't be doing this" chattered in place of om in my 1st chakra (the brain, for you westerners). My muscles filled me with shame.
And then came the resentment. Why, I balked, should I be ashamed of this body, this awesome achievement that I've worked so hard for? Why should I feel guilty for doing what doctors and society has been hounding us to do for years now: eat healthy and get in shape. Why was this a "problem?"
Even though I do yoga, I'm not flexible. Like the poses themselves, everything is upside down and backward in my mind. I'm a pretzel within the confines of my own imbalance. I've lost all ability to live in the moment, to take the lemons that life hands me without mashing them into a senseless, sugarless, low-fat pulp. That's why. I'm not following doctor's recommendations but my own strict paradigm, my own warped sense of what's "good."
The emotions that envelope me at any moment can almost always be divided succinctly in two: the desire to gain weight and recharge my life and the fear of losing control, the self-doubt, and the guilt and loathing. Yin and yang sans positive connotations. It is this Cold War that makes me tired at 5 o'clock.
The likely reason for my weighted transgression is the fact that I find out today if I can get into treatment tomorrow. If I can't, there's still the option of Wednesday; if neither of those work then it could be over a week until the next possible opening. Thinking about another week of waiting can only be related to the movie Castaway. I want to go to the ocean, make best friends with a volleyball, and never speak English again. Yet, I know that time still ticks in the ocean. I can't run from 5 o'clock.
But! It's 5 o'clock somewhere, right? Interestingly enough, I am not whimpering in a chair. I'm babysitting my sister and looking forward to spending time with my friends. Eventually, my entrance counselor will call, and she will tell me something, and I will deal with this something, and 5 o'clock will come and go, and tomorrow and the next day and the next day and some time from now, I will be happy and healthy and teaching group fitness classes in Chile in Spanish. That's that. Those are my options. Wonderful, simple, and like the tree pose, both flexible and balanced.
I'm sending you love at this 5 o'clock hour.
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