MidWrite: Suspend

Carly Suspend 1.14.20

woman doing yoga

The idea comes to me as I hang upside down wrapped in silk.

I had been setting myself up for this. I had allowed my friends to drink up my enthusiasm, and my endless capacity for planning, and my willingness to bend over backwards to make things happen. That kind of devotion was what got me here before. I can feel blood pounding behind my eyes as I rock a few inches one way, a few the other, the webbing above me creaking. Breathe, the instructor reminds us.

So maybe I should just quit. Walk away from it all. I’ve done it once, I’d do it again. My life from here, I reflect, catching a glimpse of my purple face in the mirror, is going to have a ferocity to it that my former life hadn’t had. It’s not a resolution, it’s a recognition. This burning feeling, quiet most of the time, is ready to jump to my defense as a raging fire if I need it, if I’m threatened.

The problem, I think, shifting my legs so they are pointing to the back wall, is that the triggers are not in proportion with the “burning, ferocious fire” reaction. The little black car I can see through the window, for example… it’s not its fault that a similar car in a state on the other side of the country was once associated with bad, bad feelings. And yet, I can’t risk that ever happening again. Someone gets too close, and I give too much? Better to get out now.

So, what? Quit? Walk out on them all? My best friend of eight years, my boyfriend of as many months? My family? Just say, you know, I do enough here. I’m out. As recently as a year ago I didn’t consider it an option, in a situation that needed it. Now I’m willing to do it over much less. I’m really getting a headache.

That’s when the idea comes to me: maybe what I need is not to quit, but to suspend. Just put on pause for a minute all the things I’m doing to support my relationships. Let everyone else feel their own weight. I adjust my hips, wiggling around so my silk is in a more comfortable position.

Part of the enjoyment of aerial yoga lies in the ability to let the spine decompress. The spine supports and absorbs so much throughout a day, and suspending my body in the silks is a way to let something else take the load for a bit. But I really do have too much blood in my head right now.

I engage my core to bring my hands up to my silks, bringing my head to horizontal.

What a relief.

What I need is to tame the leaping, burning fire reaction. I have it at my disposal should I ever need it again, but the offenses committed by the people who love me, who occasionally mess up, by the stupid little black Honda Fit parked outside and by every black Honda Fit everywhere, these are not offenses that necessitate the reaction swirling in my blood-soaked head. I have another option. I can press pause. Take a little break, a load off. Suspend.

Breathe, the instructor reminds me.








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