standing on your head

Until yesterday, I had never tried to do a head stand. Or a hand stand of any kind.

As a kid, I wasn’t the type to attempt flips and throwing myself upside down. I didn’t hang by my knees from the monkey bars. I preferred laying on the trampoline and staring up at the trees to jumps and flips. I’ve never been the springy gymnast type.

I don’t remember being afraid I would get hurt. I think I was simply afraid that I wouldn’t be able to do it. I didn’t trust my body. I was scared of being embarassed or even worse, crying. So I didn’t even risk it. I self-selected myself out of the cart wheel loving crowd and stuck to things that I knew I was good at like reading and board games and making people laugh.

When I signed up for an inversions workshop at my yoga studio (basic yoga inversions include head stands, hand stands and forearm stands), I knew that it was going to be hard. But I thought that if I could just get some step-by-step instruction on how to string the poses together, I would be upside down in no time.

The workshop was set up more or less as I anticipated. After a short warm up the instructor started breaking down different types of head stands and hand stands and arm stands, and the class of about fifteen people started practicing them mostly up against a wall for additional support. Sometimes as a group and sometimes with one person acting as the example.

I tried really, really hard not to pay attention to the other people who were popping up into head and hand stands like it was no big deal. Like it was perfectly natural to have your feet sticking straight up in the air.

And I began the process of trying to turn my world upside down.

Inversions are about being in touch with your center, your core and from there finding your balance. You have to be able to push towards your edge. And then let go of the ground trusting that your core will sustain you. Or be prepared to fall over.

Piece of cake, right?

I had one small victory in the beginning getting up into a head stead. I felt perfectly aligned, light even. It was exhilarating. I thought, maybe, just maybe, I can do this.

That thought quickly disinegrated.

As the workshop went on, I was able to do less and less while it seemed that everyone else was doing more and more.

I tried to stay positive giving myself little pep talks – I’m here, and I’m trying, and I’m safe. These quickly devolved into this is ridiculous.

Once I was in my head (not on my head) and overthinking it, it was all over. Any shred of confidence I had felt early in the workshop was obliterated by many, many failed attempts and my very tired upper body.

When the instructor was looking for one last person who hadn’t been up in a forearm stand, I ended up being the example. As I tried to go upside down, my mind and my body panicked and I all but collapsed under the weight of it all.

In that moment, all my primitive childhood fears and reasons I had chosen to protect myself bubbled to the surface. I’m in first grade singing loudly with headphones on and not realizing my whole class is listening and laughing. I’m in dance class and the girls are whispering annoyances about having to be my partner because I’m the worst dancer. I’m in college being told by an Italian professor that I should stick to English.

That is why you don’t stand on your head. You expose your weakness.

The workshop was over, and I was feeling bummed, like a weak failure, and a little ashamed. I was feeling beat up and shut down. This wasn’t what I wanted to feel. I thought I would feel strong and solid and accomplished. I thought I would conquer.

Because I couldn’t find my center. I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t push past my fear. I couldn’t do the inversions.

And it didn’t help that everyone around me was doing them (Is this true? Probably not. But it’s what it felt like.).

Trying to ditch 37 years of ingrained and well-loved habits in two hours is a lot to ask. Trying to master something in a workshop is not even remotely realistic. And although my head knew all the right answers, my heart kept asking, what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I do this?

Here were my options – I could either decide that inversions are just not for me, be proud of myself for trying something new and move on. Or I could keep trying, knowing what I know now, and having a deeper understanding of the elements at play.

Last night I dreamt about being upside down. It’s almost all I can think about.

This morning after I put the boys on the bus, I took my yoga mat into the backyard and tried again. And again. And again.

I was a little less tentative. I was a little more centered.

And I’ll keep trying to let go, push past my fear, trust myself more and maybe I’ll end up standing on my head.