Just paid the deposit on Yoga Certification course at downtown desert yoga.

I've come up with a lot of ideas on what it is that I want to Be When I Grow up as Brain Boggled New Naomi. Some ideas washed out because I'm not the student/degree carrying person that I used to be. I tried at getting my Grant Writing Certification. On line course work was manageable once we were running the basics. But when fine-tuning details started, when I had a question and replies didn't come until a few days later, when personal family tragedy became too distracting... I washed out. I've learned how to forgive myself. I learned enough to set my own course on grant writing.  

Working to be mindful around the onslaught of anger that came with the discovery that I have changed as a student, that I need more attention... took some time... is still taking some time. I'm not going to say that I will, out of the gate, begin teaching yoga. I won't be playing that card. Refining my knowledge in this field is for me. To help me suss out the stuff that's still left undone.   Eventually, of course, I would like to teach yoga, very specifically to those with Traumatic Brain Injuries. Many yoga studios and instructors are doing fantastic work on helping our Veterans deal with their PTSD and TBI. I admire that.

But I also feel voiceless. Because my TBI is not attached to something socially/politically tangible... I feel a little left out. I kinda need yoga guidance too! It isn't often you see a class directed for those who have TBI. Just TBI. TBI and PTSD are often taglined-- TBI and PTSD associated with SERVICE. I'm just some kid, that was walking down the street and got smacked by a car. I'm not special. My TBI isn't special. "You look fine." Oh yeah, because my recovery is totally visible! The Invisible Injury stays Invisible sometimes. I am appreciative that service men and women with TBI are no longer AS Invisible (there is still a lot of work to do!) They served our country, served its citizens, served us and they should never be invisible.  

My injury is still invisible.

And let's be honest there truly is enough Feeling Left Out/Invisibility charged into TBI life. Yoga has become important to me because much of its benefits can dismiss that sensation. It's hard to feel left out when it's only you on that mat. It can be terrifying at first.

It is just you on this mat. You're not sure if you're doing this right. You're looking around, breath irregular, looking to see if your body is positioned like all the other people in the room, like the person on the video, like the book illustration says. Is this even working? Does this even matter? I'm wasting my time? Maybe I should be... anywhere but here. Maybe I should get up, get off this mat, and get back to bed, have another coffee, check my Facebook.   

But, babe, it is just YOU on this mat. And sometimes, breakthrough. In the form of an instructor witnessing your struggle and sitting next to you, assuring you that you are doing this right, that no you don't look like the person next to you, that you're a little new and eventually you're body will shape and bend in only the way your own body can and there isn't a rush to fold yourself in half and it's totally ok because not everyone can do that but in trying you find your platform of what you CAN do and what feels right. In the form of you watching that video and realizing that tension, in fact, is releasing from your calves and while you don't look like the person in the video you actually are starting to feel pretty good, right there in your bound up calves. In the form of looking at that book and reading the caption under the yoga position, Vrksasana, whatever that means, Tree Pose, oh... this is silly... oh, I can just start off with my foot above my ankle... oh, well that's ok, I can do that... and then eventually discovering that you can trust yourself to stand on one leg, with your arms over your head even with your eyes closed and NOT fall down.   

Because it is just YOU on this mat. No one can tell you what to do. No one can make you feel left out. Because it's just you. And for a little while it feels good to be just you.   

If you are brain boggled, or has a replaced hip, or a bruised tail bone, or ringing ears, or a big stupid headache that won't go away... if you is skinny, or old, or wide, or young... if you isn't worried bout that jelly roll at your belly, or if you has a day in which you ARE worried... it's your day, your mat and it's just you for twenty minutes, and hour, fell asleep in Corpse Pose, maybe two hours.   It stops being terrifying to be alone. You learn to step off that mat and feel less alone. Even when people are trying to leave you out... you're kinda just a two minute tree pose away from being Alone on your mat and ok with that because being Alone and Lonliness are two entirely different things.   

I have invisibility days. You know what I do with those? Banana or Crescent Moon Pose. When my sides are splitting with electric stretch it doesn't matter if no one else can see me. I can see myself.   

So, the immediate direction is not to become a teacher but to first teach myself and in that learn to share with others. I can't help anyone until I get Me done first.