Upward Dog

I think a lot upside down.

Ever since I started yoga, my morning routine consists of phrases like vinyasa, root to rise, pigeon pose (which, fuck you, by the way), namaste, and downward-facing dog.

I used to think down dog was difficult (which, in the beginning, it is — don’t kid yourself) until M casually slid in one day, “You know downward dog is a recovery position?”

“Oh good—
So I suck at recovery. Tell me something I don’t know,” I laughed.

Standing in the shape of a tiny pyramid with your head upside down while focused on your breathing sounds deeply spiritual until you realize you’re in a half-assed handstand at 7:45 a.m. (ish), alone in your living room.

“Alone.” The dreaded word.

Maybe not for everyone, but definitely for me sometimes.

My brain is— for lack of a better word— a hateful bitch. You know?

She’s not everyone’s, but she’s definitely mine.

It’s your mom, right? We’ll use Fran for this one, as she’s the most readily available in my world.

People love my mother.

They can’t imagine why I’m frustrated with her.

But that’s because she’s my mother, not theirs.

They get Glinda the Good Witch, and I get the ass-kicker drill sergeant.

It’s the same with my brain.

With other people I have this uncanny ability to find phrases like: “You’re amazing! You can do it! Believe in yourself! I’m proud of you!”

Me to me— “What if you’re still in this living room at 65, thinking upside down, in this (motions theoretical hand in circles) dog thing you’ve started?”

(Pause, close eyes, deep breath.)

And I say back to her, “Then that will be just fine.”

That’s new.

Bonnie, my therapist, once told me, “Trey, you just have a very active negative voice.”

And I replied, “Got it. Now — how do we kill that person?”

Bonnie, laughing: “We don’t want to go around killing parts of self. They are just trying to help us.”

But it’s frustrating, right? Here I am, upside down in my living room, trying, and you just want to tell yourself, “Can you cut me a break?”

I’ve gotten better at shrugging off these thoughts and keeping it moving.

There are so many people in my life who are dealing with so many hurdles: parenting, relationships, divorce, destructive habits, fear, addiction, hurt, career shifts, and so on.

And as I stood half-assed upside down, I thought: “How lucky you are that your biggest problem today is ‘What if you’re still here in this living room at 65, alone, thinking upside down?’”

There must be something so truly human about wanting what’s on the other side. The single people want love. The relationship people want autonomy.

Our brain will take us everywhere except for one place—

Here — upside down in the living room.

Here, where a stronger you is doing things — albeit small things — that you’ve never done.

Here, where you’re building the you that you get to love.

Maybe thinking upside down, just maybe, gives us pause to breathe—

And to look for what’s right side up.