Yoga with a broken foot

I fractured my first metatarsal three weeks ago… Ok well, actually, that’s more like a well educated guess, because I hate doctors and have crappy expensive health insurance that I can’t afford to use. But after talking to people with a lot more education and expertise than myself, all came to the same conclusion. It’s fractured and like broken toes, doctors can’t do anything about it, and I don’t take prescription pain meds, so why bother.

Anyway. I’ve been resting, and icing, and Friday morning the swelling and bruising were down enough that I could see and just kinds pulled everything back into place.

Saturday I was babysitting at yoga and told the teacher about it when she asked why I’d pooped out on our challenge. She said to give it a try, just do pranayama, maybe half moon, them lay down and wait for the floor series.

She was teaching again this morning, so I went back and did exactly that. It hurt more than I expected. It feels mostly okay while I’m laying around, I can take the dog out, drive… It’s all tolerable.

I did the breathing, by half moon my foot was starting to hurt a lot. But, I went into the first part of awkward anyway. I wanted to push through to the one legged postures.

I hit Red light pain, immediately.

So, since we’d already agreed not to push, I stopped and waited for the floor series.

Laying in Savasana started to hurt, because the way you’re supposed to stay with heels together and toes out was putting too much pressure on it. Since I’m short, I rolled up the extra length of my mat, to elevate it a little and add some extra cushion.

I did everything on the floor, except camel. Which kinda blows because that’s my favorite. I gave it a try, but it was way too much pressure on the top of my foot, that made me see stars and want to throw up. I felt things pop and move too. It was scary and gross! I skipped second set.

I didn’t try to modify or accommodate or work around it in any way. My whole body is askew from favoring it and, I figured doing as much as I could as properly as possible would help realign and feel better.

After class, the teacher asked what I thought. I said it was frustrating. It’s hard to lay there, SO CLOSE, watching other people do something you love. But it was a good exercise in listening to the body, staying in the moment, all that stuff they like to talk about.

I was still sweating. I still got some activity, which is excellent, because I’ve been going nuts laying just around.

Plus, I did yoga with a broken foot… that’s kinda badass.

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Hateful

“I can’t wait until my mother dies. Then I’m training in my DNA. I’m going to tell everyone that I was adopted and never had children.” My mother shouted angrily over and over on our trip to Denver.

She doesn’t just wish if vanish. She wishes I’d never existed. She wishes that she could unwind her genetic composition from mine.

When my dad died, our entire relationship with his side of the family died too. And my mother hated me enough to pretend I don’t even exist.

Unclaimed baggage.

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Vicious cycle of hate

My grandmother hates my mother.

My mother hates me.

I hate myself.

I’m certainly never having my own children to perpetuate this family trend.

I really wish I could hurry up and die, to make them happy. Families should be about love, and my family would love for me to vanish. I’d love to make it better for everyone and die.

My grandma so wanted me to visit her at her home, even after I drove to see her at my aunt’s in April, she wasn’t happy. My grandmother is 91, she’s my last living grandparent, and I wanted to make her happy. I’d do nearly anything to make the people around me happy, especially my family.

So my mother got us plane tickets to visit her for my birthday.

Every meal, they harped on calories. They called me fat.
They scrutinized and criticized every choice I made.

When they fought and argued, I tried to change the subject, or walk away. I found beautiful things to notice, and complimented everyone.

But they still hate me.

My mother hates me.

She called me bitch, stupid, asshole, and said she wished she’d never had me. She said not to be proud that I sign because people who sign look retarded.

There is no reprieve from all the hate.

I can’t wait until I die.

I miss my dad.