A Broken Yogi

When I finally untangled myself I was in a deep rut. My self-esteem had withered like a rose left outside in winter. I returned to old behavior. I inhaled to the point where I could no longer breathe. I lost things like my glasses, my keys, my phone and my focus—but mainly lost myself. I had lost my yoga.

By Edith Lazenby

Guess it happened slowly, my being a broken yogi, unlike my foot, which cracked with a kick.

My right foot was my good foot until it became the worst foot. My left foot has chronic tendinitis but no pain any longer. Walking is no longer natural. Yet, I can move towards my goals today, living outside the shadows that almost buried me.

My ability to engage in yoga physically is gone for now, just as I was getting ready to start again. Honest! I was going to take a community class at the county recreation center where I live. It has taken a few years to get here. Yoga never says no.

But, life said no.

I accidentally kicked a chair and—crunch, I fractured a metatarsal. I teach yoga part time. I have been teaching since 2005. In 2013 I left my husband and my personal practice. The end of the marriage was short, intense and hellish. Back then I wanted to feel as little as possible and yoga tends to deepen whatever feelings I might have and brings them to the surface.

So, back in 2013 I surfed couches for a couple of weeks before I got my apartment, which had a small den for yoga. Back then I blogged all the time and taught. Life had changed; I was alone for the first time in 15 years. My focus changed. I still taught as I do now, but was no longer in the yoga community that nourished me. I had moved. Online dating became an opportunity.

Practicing yoga had become optional whereas before it fed me and was a necessity.

Now what fed me was a yearning for a partnership. And my first post marriage partner wasn’t all bad but was far from good; in fact there was a thread of abuse, rarely physical but definitely emotional.

I call him my ex-hole.

When I finally untangled myself I was in a deep rut. My self-esteem had withered like a rose left outside in winter. I returned to old behavior. I inhaled to the point where I could no longer breathe.

I lost things like my glasses, my keys, my phone and my focus—but mainly lost myself.

I had lost my yoga. I had lost my writing. I had lost my respect for life. But it was doing a single restorative yoga pose that brought me back. The darkness surrounding lifted and I realized I needed help.

I called an old friend who helped me to help myself. That single pose opened the door to where I am today. I have also taken my writing back here, telling my tales. And once my foot heels, I will get on my mat…again.

I inhaled to the point where I could no longer breathe. ~ Edith Lazenby Share on X

Edith Lazenby is a teacher and a writer. She believes in taking risks, having fun, and embracing the people she meets along the way.

Photo: source

Editor: Dana Gornall

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