Secure

I have to sleep with part of my face covered. When I wear turtlenecks, I push the top over my nose, so I look like that dude from Bazooka Joe, or spread my scarf over my mouth. It’s a security issue. It’s make me feel at ease. A throwback perhaps to when I was a baby and my mother swears I only slept when she put one of those cloth diapers/burping rags over my head.

What is it about security that makes us all search for it in every aspect of our lives — financially, domestically, relationship-wise, within ourselves. We want to feel certain and safe and when we don’t, we, or at least I, act like idiots, or just plain panic.

When I’m feeling insecure, I open my mouth and words come out that I don’t, nor would ever mean, but I can’t stop them. They just keep coming. I do stupid things and don’t do other things. I punish other people because I can’t find that piece of security that puts me at ease. But who’s problem is it? Isn’t insecurity in a way just a crutch, a reason to keep from opening yourself up or believing, or working harder, picking up the pieces and cleaning up the mess. If you think in your mind that you’re not good enough, or other people don’t feel you’re good enough, or that what you’re doing or have done is not up to par then you’re going to shut down and stop trying.

I want to breath let everything unravel and not be afraid of the outcome. If I can just relax and accept, pull down my turtleneck and live, without my perception of what other people think of me holding me back, then I can just be. It’s funny how the idea of letting go makes you feel so much more secure.

Holly Does Cardio

Not nearly as fun as Dallas. I would’ve settled for Omaha. But as the title says it was neither. Now I know why I’ve stuck with yoga for so many years. I’m not a jumper nor a pumper (the name of the class is jump and pump). But I did, and even crazier than that, I’m going back.

Here’s how I wound up in painful agony in the middle of a very well-lit studio in front of a very clear wall-length mirror. I was asked by an old friend. I needed to start an exercise routine anyway, since being off the pill has kicked in some of the PCOS symptoms and I already gained four pounds, so I thought it was the perfect solution. I wasn’t thinking that anymore when I was 15 minutes into the class and ready to make love to the floor.

It was led by a petite, perky, blond-haired lady named Tracy who had more energy than a six year old with 50 pixie sticks. Now, I wish I could say something mean about Tracy since she was inflicting the torture, like she’s a horrible tyrant or spat on the floor in between routines, but of course she was just about the sweetest person to ever walk this Earth. She didn’t even call me out when I sat crouching in the corner drinking my water when everyone else was dutifully doing their arm exercises with weights. In my defense, I was two seconds from passing out. I have no upper arm strength. This could be why my boyfriend is frightened to death that I am going to wind up in a ditch or well somewhere and not be able to pull myself back out. Luckily for me I live in the borough so everyone has public water.

It was also proof positive about the whole endorphins kicking in when you exercise thing. There I am halfway through the class, feeling like a Mack truck just slammed into my chest, smiling like an idiot. I just couldn’t stop smiling. It was a good thing the mirror was there. That way I cold stare at myself smiling back as I pitifully attempted to lift my knee up, afraid to raise my arm too high because of the pool of sweat collecting in the armpit area.

So I really didn’t think it was going to do it for me. I wanted to try a kickboxing class with another friend next week, but since I am on the whole decision kick (making quick ones with my gut instinct) I went for it. Why not, right? I mean what’s the worse that can happen? I probably shouldn’t ask that. I’m not exactly the most coordinated person in class.

But hey, who knows. Maybe one day if it works out I can throw myself down a well and test out my new skills.