The Spirit Within

I have the nastiest little person living inside my head. Sometimes she is bigger than all of my world and can overpower me with one whispered remark - other times she is well hidden from sight - potentially invisible but her anger and ridicule are still there waiting for their moment to bully their way to the forefront.

For many years, this nasty little creature had open mic access to my very soul. She rose before I did - reminding me that had eaten too much at dinner the night before, admonishing me for my slothlike avoidance of exercise - suggesting, always, that I might as well eat too much and exercise too little because I wasn't really worthy of much better for myself. She really shone in the mirror - pointing out every unflattering lump and bump - a pulled shirt gaping at the bust line, pants digging in at the waistline of a soft abdomen, a sagging jaw line or bad hair moment.

She presented herself in other guises as well. Making any little mistake - say, cutting off some poor soul on the highway - was worth a lengthy bout of ruminating about my lack of perfection. Choosing a Thai restaurant for friends for dinner only to discover he's allergic to peanuts and she hates cilantro would weave an carpet of self doubt and incrimination that would blanket the evening. There was no escaping her - she came with me everywhere!

And, for the most part, I was the only one aware of her. Other people saw me as successful, happy, interesting and intelligent. A few victims of my sarcastic teasing might have seen a ghost of her now and then but, overall, I was fully functional. I, however, knew the truth about myself. I disliked myself intensely. I was not happy. I was feeding my anxieties and insecurities and fears with food that was making her more powerful and more angry.

I didn't know how to turn her off or, even, tune her out. I'd read plenty about negative inner voices and perfectionism but I hadn't a clue how to put what I'd read into action. Her voice kept reminding me that I was too far gone to recover so, what was the point? Have another slab of cake.

Until I tried yoga. That very first magical day when I pulled out the blue foamy mat and slid the dvd into the player. Suzanne Deason's calm voice assured me that I could try this new thing. The gorgeous Arizona desert setting seemed calm and safe to me. The lovely chubby woman performing the fully modified version of the practice encouraged me. So, I started.

Yoga has well studied and documented benefits - and I knew about them. What I didn't expect was the moments of quiet I experienced that very first day. I turned off the hum of the world, I turn my full attention inward and, lo and behold, I found the off switch of my inner voice. In those early weeks, I cared less about the awkwardness of my poses and most about the quieting of that voice. Knowing there WAS an off switch encouraged me to find other ways to use it more often. I started a gratitude journal - focussing only on the positives in my life. I started a health pledge to myself and start every day with its recitation. I started to acknowledge with thanks all the people my life touches in a day - I've yet to meet a ttc subway conductor, for example, who isn't both pleased and completely surprised to be sincerely thanked on a busy Tuesday morning! I forgive myself for my humaness, for my lack of perfection, for my particular quirks and foibles.

I have found the keys to turning her off. When I weaken and she comes back, I use the tools of calmness and quiet to shut her down. Of all the things I've accomplished on this journey, overpowering the nasty one in my head has been the most rewarding and I will celebrate that at the start and end of every day.