Serious

Yoga made me a better mother.


Seriously.

I’m not kidding.

TRUST ME.

Once upon a time, I was a sullen, surly teenage girl. I wore lots of black and wrote bad poetry. Morrissey, my birthday twin, was my idol and then later Henry Rollins (if you know who both are, you are ahead of the game). I was EMO before there was such a term. I was living, eating breathing stereotype.

I also did lots of things to be different, long before I turned 18. I was a vegetarian, long before it went mainstream (back in the dark ages, finding foods or eating out was brutal) I did belly dancing because my local Y offered it. I learned how to restore ancient textiles volunteering at an 17th century house turned museum. And I discovered yoga.

My whole life turned upside down.

Literally.

One thing that has remained a constant throughout my adult life is my practice to yoga. I could list the five gazillion benefits it has afforded me, but that is another time, another place. The greatest reward it has given me is making me a better mother.

Through yoga, I was able to transform myself from that angry teenager with the poor fashion sense and bad writing skills to who I am today. As I’ve grown my practice has grown and transformed, gone deeper. I don’t do the more physical poses (you won’t catch me in scorpion anymore, that’s for darn sure) that I could 25 years ago. Instead, I find myself twisting and stretching. There is nothing better than triangle first thing in the morning. I love how it stretches out my body and focuses me.

I have learned to listen to my body from yoga. When I feel like the weight of the world on my shoulders, chances are I am holding onto something that could make me snap. It’s a symptom of neglecting self care. I am much more attuned when I am getting sick or not getting enough rest. I can make minor adjustments and hopefully avoid things spiraling out of control.

Yoga has taught me to breathe. That might sound strange since we all breathe-without it we are dead. Literally. Breathing deeply, and opening up my lungs has prevented me from saying things that might break little boy’s hearts and crushing his soul. I have learned to take that five breath time out to stop myself from saying something that I might regret later.

Through the practice of yoga, I have learned patience. Its called practice for a reason. There are some asanas that after all these years I still haven’t mastered. Its ok There isn’t some master exam to prove whether or not you can do x move or not. I have learned that sometimes you need to wait. Silence is ok too, because its in that silence you sometimes hear so much.

When my son was little, and new to us, he didn’t have any functional language. Most of his communication was through gestures or a series of screams and nonsensical babble. It was like playing charades with Pantera. Over time, because I just listened and observed and was silent, I began to discern what each movement or sound meant. It opened the door to us bonding, and having conversations. We were able to understand each other more, just by listening to the silence.

Yoga made me a better mother because I was able to share that with my son. We have been practicing yoga for almost five years together. In the beginning, it was a way for him to learn to focus, to calm himself and to stretch out muscles he would keep clenched and tight. We would do it before bed in hopes of helping him sleep better. We would do a few quick asanas before school, to help him calm his mind to focus on school work. We bonded over a mat and downward dog. We learned to trust each other because of yoga.

I am a better wife, mother and person because of yoga.

Serious.