Yoga.  I really like yoga.  Since the Yoga Nidra class ended, I haven't had my weekly dose, except through the 12-step yoga class, but that's only every other week.  So since it is too cold to go out and walk lately, when I came across a 30 day "Yoga Bootcamp" series -- I started.

This morning was day one. It was pretty basic, but the instructor said that she was starting simple.  One thing that I liked about it was she had a montra she wanted us to repeat: Accept.

Ya.  Accept.  If you've been keeping up with my blogs, you'll know that accept keeps haunting me.  <sigh>  I can't help but believe that there is a definite hand in this synchronistic flow.  I guess I ought to heed, otherwise I'll be hearing about acceptance everywhere I go if that is the case!

So I figured out why yoga mats exist.  Carpet is absolutely terrible to lay on!  (I'm glad I have mat on order.) Why can't I remember it that way as a kid?  It always seemed so soft, and inviting.  Then again, my mother used to take immaculate care of the house; she'd vacuum in such a way that there were intentional designs left in the carpet from the way the cleaner's brushed swept the nap.  She got pretty good with the designs, too.
          I remember those days, the sun shining in the living room, the furniture-ships docked to the walls, and the rippling water in the shag.  It was a day for pirates for sure!  Cushions became life rafts, and I'm sure dear Mom was filled with both joy and headaches!  I could smell the salty ...

Okay, back to reality.

I find myself getting torn between these worlds sometimes.  I mean, thinking of the past in the way I just did, that's different.  But living in the past, dwelling on the bullshit that has happened (or hasn't happened, as the case is these days) really gets to me.  There are so many things that I missed out on as a child because of the way I was raised.  If I dwell on it for too long, I either get downright furious, or I get deadly depressed. Why is that? 

I've been told this is the same reaction one gets when they deal with loss.  Loss covers a lot:  Loss of a job.  A home.  A dog.  A goldfish.  A friend.  A child.  Childhood.  A spouse.  An addiction.  Just, loss.  Our inner brain can't comprehend the difference between one or the other, it simply registers as a loss.  It requires our cognitive skills to discern the balance of which is greater, and that is recorded and judged based on personal experience, either directly, or indirectly.

This means that the initial feelings that are felt are very, very real, and they won't "just go away."  They have to be dealt with on some level, period, because we can't just make them disappear -- they existed.  It was real.  And until our inner minds know it has been dealt with, it will continue to haunt us.  How do we do that?  We acknowledge -- and accept -- and release.

I know I keep mentioning acceptance, but it is something glaring me in the face lately, and I won't apologize for it.  This very blog is meant for me to work on exactly this kind of stuff:  Acknowledgement, Acceptance, and Release.

This brings me to this:
My childhood was so sheltered, that I didn't get to experience many of the things "normal" kids did -- to the point that it became detrimental to my social living.  Because of the strictness of my religion and the instilled fear set upon my very birth, there were many things I simply couldn't do, even if my parents were okay with it.  For instance, I had no idea how to interact with girls.  (I know, this sounds stupid and petty, and it is, but I'm going somewhere with this, so bear with me.)  This was a very, very serious issue for me as a kid, teenager, and young adult, and in fact, it was this very issue that lead me to my wife with all of the issues that we had (which ultimately led up to her death, a bigger loss, I assure you).

But it hasn't stopped there, either (and I know I'm being very vague here).  It is now causing me quite the grief in trying to figure out how to seek companionship.  Truth be told: I have no fucking idea what in the hell I'm doing.  I mean like -- NONE.  It's embarrassing (yes, very much so), and I feel lost and confused about everything regarding the entire subject!

And this is where I begin to live in the past, and dwell on what should have been, versus what was.  It really sucks me in, too, and then I get either downright furious, or I get deadly depressed.



  1. I didn't learn those social survival skills as a kid/teen/young adult.
  2. I got married into a situation because of #1, and it was full of problems.
  3. I lost my only friend and companion (depending on the day) due to said problems.
  4. I tried to die over the pains of loss, just so I could be free -- the hurt was too great.

But that was then, this is Now.


  1. I am learning these things now; I'm told faster than if I was a kid, but more "painful" as an adult.
  2. I am passed this issue, it is time to move forward.
  3. I am making many new friends, and for the first time in my life, I'm actually SEARCHING for a companion -- something I was much too terrified to do (well, still am, actually... gulp).
  4. I. Am. Alive.  I am free.  And I am NOT ALONE.


  1. My past has made me determined to be loyal, truthful, kind, wholehearted, loving, and compassionate.
  2. I have learned a great deal from my experience, and I now know not only what I have to offer, but what I want (for the first time).
  3. I miss my sober wife, tremendously.  Some days I long for her touch or the soft sound of her voice.  Sadly, I also know now why there was so little of those times; alcoholism and addiction ruled her haunted world -- a world I could not fix.
  4. I know what she went through.  I understand now.  I know there was nothing I could do about that.  But I can today, with me.

I have to deal with the losses.  All of them, not just the greater of them.  These things have to be acknowledged, accepted, and released.  And I have done that, so now I can begin to dream of, hope for, and trust what will be my future.  It is this very movement that will make real what I search for; serenity, peace, and companionship.

Who knew yoga could be so powerful?