Vignette: Through Yoga I’ve Found Calm in the Midst of Discomfort

I’ve come to my yoga mat this morning feeling tired and off-balance.

I didn’t sleep well. Yesterday’s unexpected call from the province’s victim notification system has unsettled me. The recorded message warned me to avoid answering unrecognized payphone calls because, in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic, inmates are being given more freedom to use the phone.

I had not received a call from Victim Services for a year and a half — not since the day I was warned that the man who terrorized, extorted, and raped me had been released from jail. Now I’m left wondering if I received yesterday’s warning because my name is on some old register, or if it’s because my abuser is back in prison. Regardless, it has reminded me of how powerless I felt after he was released and of my fears that he would abuse and rape even more women.

These thoughts are distractions as I lie back on my yoga mat to begin my practice. Some mornings I feel calm when I come to my mat, but it’s difficult days like today that first brought me to yoga and always bring me back. I need to regain my balance.

I start by focusing on my breath and, this morning, I notice that it is quick and shallow, anxious and weak; not as it should be for what I’m about to do. I slow it down and breathe more deeply, concentrating first on breathing into my belly, then expanding through my ribs and up into my chest. This brings my focus to the present and gets me out of my anxious mind.

Then I shift my focus to different parts of my body; to my toes and fingers, my ankles and wrists, moving each one steadily and deliberately. I stretch my body as long as I can and then relax it. My mind focuses on each movement and sensation. The trauma that I experienced at the hands of my abuser means that I sometimes feel numb and disconnected from my body. Yoga helps me find my way back into it.

As I move through the practice, some poses feel good and others quite uncomfortable. These are the ones that I hold the longest because, through them, I’ve learned the importance of perseverance. I am patient and compassionate with myself while at the same time I steadily push my limits. I breathe into the discomfort and often find that I can tolerate it for longer than I predict. The discomfort ends when I choose to come out of each pose. On my mat, each small decision is up to me.

I am in control.

Inevitably and despite concentrating on the present, darker thoughts and memories enter my mind. This morning, they ask: Could my abuser actually be back in jail? What has he been caught for this time? How long will it be before he gets out? Or is he out now, abusing someone else?

On this and many mornings, my thoughts are not pleasant. They bring me anxiety and make me feel small and powerless over the direction of my life. Yet just like the discomfort that arises in my body when I hold challenging poses, uncomfortable emotions and memories also pass. I gently usher my focus back to the present and rest in the comfort of knowing that I am not under my abuser’s control anymore. That is in the past.

Right now, in the present, I am safe.

Throughout my yoga session, the movement of my body is interwoven with the control of my breath. I am centred. I am balanced. And that balance stays with me after I leave my mat — at least for a while. Yoga hasn’t erased my anxieties, fears, or memories from the past, but now I can tolerate them and let them drift away.

I have found calm in the midst of discomfort.