“Get out of your head.”

Full disclosure, you have every opportunity to read this as me being “too sensitive” or “not seeing it from the other side.”
In fact, I am sensitive. I can be very sensitive. Primarily because I’m not being loaned a lot of help in the department of others trying to see it from my side.

I see you!

I don’t know why you won’t see me.

And you can look at it as me “playing the brain injury card” too. Go right ahead.

But I’ll let you in on something.

It is my card to play! It is actually MY ONLY HAND. Deck after deck of life, I am issued from the same cards as you. Only I have to see mine through TBI eyes. I do have to protect myself. I do have to educate you. And I do know that I’m not going to win.

It’s not a disadvantage. It’s not a disability. Not in my eyes. But you can’t see what I see. You don’t take time to slow down and think in my direction.
And that’s the burn.

I have to look through TBI eyes and then mindfully divide my mind to see it through your eyes too.
So that simple adage, tossed at me so frequently, “Get out of your head.” comes off as disregarding, inconsiderate, and sometimes a little mean.

I’m in my head so I don’t emotionally tailspin on you. I’m in my head so I can gauge the timeline of when I last ate and when I’ll need to eat again because TBI Hangry comes in two flavors-- checked out and on the verge of tears OR Bitchzilla (who will start crying once she eats). I’m in my head checking terrain so I can pre-negotiate with my hip, knee and ankle on where we need to go and how we’re going to get there. Safely if you don’t mind.

So when I straight up talk about my TBI and my physical injuries, share that information with anyone and everyone, I do it not to be obnoxious, lazy or to get out of something. I do it to protect myself.
My foot cannot reach past my ankle in Vrkasana  without me having a wall near by. I’m a funny little tree that keeps my hands in Pranamasana. I respect my body, knowing that balance actions send my ankles and right knee into a fire lick of pain. On a scale of 1 to 10, at least a solid and very distracting 3-4. If I don’t pay attention and negotiate that down, I might fail to find a deeper pain and hurt myself. Taking right foot up to the pose my hips don’t “square” quite the way you “expect”. That would be because my right hip was once dislocated and cracked and I was given a limited run with PT. I am, on a near hourly basis, negotiating to keep it from over extending, hyper extending, relying on the muscle memory of what it used to be able to do. It likes to SPLAY. Fall all out. Which would be fine, but then my leg goes cold, my toes tingle and I know I’ve found myself in some trouble.

I can, however, use Yin butterfly pose or bring myself to Restorative supported bound angle pose. I have control to chose the depth and time to find the right support. Better yet, more time to feel the sensation of the pose, adjust if needed, challenge if able (and those are always my best days!) and to top it off, my muscles, fascia, tendons, bones… and soul… all have time to communicate with each other and talk about where it is I can be now.

It’s fucking bliss.

Tell me to get out of my head when being in my head is what can bring me this.

And forgetting to be in my head will absolutely injure me.

Absolutely, this may limit my ability to find my voice as a teacher. I have been vocal in trying to advocate for myself. Recently I asked for insight on readings that I might pursue. I think it was mistaken as me trying to find my Voice in books.

It was not. It was me trying to research further into the mindset of the teachers and students of the studio so that I may shift my thought process.

I know I can talk too much. I find everything important and I’ve never really had support in refining Value in the words I use.

My school of thought, what works for New Naomi, is to have too much and bring it down to just enough. I just need friendly advice with finding what vibes with me and works for everyone else.
I have, on my journey into earning and using my RYT, been faced with the more commonly accepted school of thought, “Memorize and Recite.”

Problematic. My memory isn’t that great, unless I have Cornerstones. I teach Utkatasana as finding a seat at a child’s tea party. I can’t imagine anyone over doing it with their knees (because they would fall down at the party and how embarrassing would that be!) I prefer Parivrtta Utkatasana as a lead with the heart and not a janky elbow pull over knee action. Because that potentially, depending on how quickly you are moving and how your knees and shoulder blades feel about the situation… will have you closing up your chest, collapsing your lungs, and compressing your organs. You’ve just destroyed benefits. Not entirely true. You’re still on your feet! Great job!

And I totally get that most yogi are way past my elementary approach. But there are so many people that think they’ll never yoga again, can’t do yoga because they aren’t that flexible, won’t do yoga because their belly is too big, breasts are too large (no, I hear you, Balasana is child’s pose because as children we have nothing to get in the way of lining our chest along our thighs), some might have a have a janky bone they broke years ago and it’s never been the same since. My personal “Never Yoga Again,” I can’t move as fast as they tell me I should.

Shit. I am currently of the belief that if you do not have some time in the pose to breathe with, speak with yourself about where you are and where you can absolutely take yourself from here… well then what the fuck.

SWITCH.

I may find myself with a limited student demographic. I get that.
What I don’t get, what I struggle with, is not being able to find an ally in my community to help me refine my Voice. I’m told I’ll never find it unless I have practice.
But at this point I can’t even have a conversation with colleagues, without them forgetting everything I’ve said and correcting my hip in tree pose thus inviting my hip to splay or trying to straighten my leg and knee in Supta Padangusthasana causing a hyper extension knee lock.
I don’t know y’all. I might have a floating kneecap. So when I keep it bent, leave it alone. Or ask if you can move it.

Because I’m pretty sure we covered that in YTT, right?

I follow along with your flows, overworking a hip and soaking it in salt that night. I do it because I want to participate in listening to you, having you see students and bodies take your instruction.
So when I ask you to take Crescent pose, stepping your left leg back and bringing a bend to your right front knee *breathe* on your next exhale bring arms forward and straight with palms facing sky *breathe* on your next inhale drag your right hand across the length of your chest, across your heart and drawn back into Warrior Two *breathe*

It kinda hurts when I see you dropping yourself into Reverse Warrior before I even instruct you. Also that was the end of the segment and I wasn’t even gonna.
Your comments on my instruction… I was thinking too much, talking too much, and that part about the hand drawn over the heart was not necessary.
Well it might be if I’m teaching a Gentle or Basics class. And that’s fair, I forgot I was in a class focused on Vinyasa sequencing. *breathe*

How am I supposed to find my voice in this din?

This is why I never found voice in my RYT.

Which is not entirely true. I found my Yin voice in my program. Though I was a little crushed when my teacher would not allow me to adjust him, and the entire class listening to his laboring huffing breath. That hurt.

But I passed.

Yin isn’t for everyone.
But it is for me.

For a girl who most like to tell, “Get out of your head.” I mean… I can sit in an hour and half of Yin without twitching. It took me months to figure out how to get there. But I’m here now. Just not living in a city that is Yin savvy. Bummer.

I want to  evolve a new Voice and maybe teach Basics and Gentle. I just worry about doing that when I don’t feel like I have allies and I don’t even know which books to read to figure out a common ground, talking point and get the conversation started on how to maybe make some.

It’s lonely.