Facing my anxieties head-on during a yoga retreat
Calming reset with a sprinkle of dark seeping out of the shadows
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Last week I spent three days at a yoga retreat in Visegrád, Hungary hosted by the calmest, most serene soul, Róza Krasznai (if you’re based in Budapest, check her yoga classes out here!). We gathered at a remote house tucked away in the forest where only birdsong and the sound of the wind rustling trees could be heard. It was a peaceful, quiet place. I went there to recharge, have some alone time while I did lots of yoga. The perfect getaway from the busy Budapest and also from my busy life as a mom.
When we arrived at the house, everything was so clean and neat, palo santo swirling in the air. It seemed as though like no one lived there before us. It felt like a clean slate. New environment, new people. Our lovely host exuded calmness all the time, she planned everything ahead from yoga practices to every meal. The only thing I had to do was to just sink into this pre-planned comfort which is a big thing for me as a mom. I only brought a small backpack with me. I only brought one book so I didn’t have to do the decision-making process of choosing one from my to-read bookshelves. Yes, plural. I only brought one pair of dungarees (of course, the most lavish one) so I did not feel awkward to wear them every day because I had only just this one. I brought six pens instead of my whole pack of around 25 to reduce the mental effort to choose one for journaling. I thought this is the true magic of getting away, having just a few options to choose from to free the mind who can now roam to new places. But as the days rolled by I felt my chaos seeping in this space like it does everywhere.
Everything about the place screamed my childhood home. The swing on the tree, the stairs swirling to the second floor, the perfect green lawn, the terrace, the view from the garden to something beautiful. And even though completely different strangers were in the house with me, my origin family dynamics kicked in. Suddenly I felt a deep desire to be the person I was pressured to be in my family. Who always wanted to chat, who was always kind and listening intently to your story pushing herself into the background. The little girl who helped out, who was always in a good mood, who didn’t have a single bad feeling and who always thought nice things about everyone all the time. You know, that totally realistic expectation pushed on young girls. And these roared loudly in my soul. Even though I retreated to my journal and to my writing a lot, I felt resistance, not peace. The need to comply even though I did not want to. So for this retreat, it became my challenge to wrangle myself free. I’m not sure I succeeded.
On the third day, we went to stand up paddling. I dreaded it because I have a severe fear of water, especially when it’s open water. Once I went on a surfboarding trip with friends and I have no idea why I thought it was such a great idea beforehand. The waves crashing above me felt suffocating and I gave up surfing after day one, only to spend my days at our rented house. Fun trip it was. I hate even to duck my head into water in pools. I don’t feel safe in water. I love thermal baths but only when I can sit down and just relax in the warm water.
On the SUP day, I took the whole morning to contemplate whether I should be going or staying at the house to write. I fantasised about having the full house to myself, like I fantasised about it all my childhood. I could write for hours uninterrupted, everything would be so quiet and peaceful. But ultimately I didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to do this activity as a group with the other attendees. I did not want to have completely different experiences like they had that day. Even though it’s impossible to live through the same stuff.
We went to the shore of the Danube, near a bank. I caught a glimpse of the river. It was quite swollen. I panicked but I didn’t say a thing. I grabbed a paddle, an ankle rope, a board. I was shaking but I headed toward the water with the others. The retreat host kept asking me whether I was okay. I wasn’t but I didn’t want to back down. I didn’t want to be the one abandoning ship and not facing my fear head-on. I knew I had the courage in me somewhere. When I stepped on the board, it wobbled but I had found myself sitting on it, legs tucked under me. My heart was racing and pounding so loudly, I couldn’t concentrate on other people’s words. I paddled ahead, towards the bay where my retreat buddies were. Everything was blurry but I made it there. The instructor was already telling the others how they should stand up on the board. I grabbed my focus and forced myself to listen to this vital part but I just couldn’t. The instructor told me like 3 times how I should stand up. I flexed my thigh muscles, I tried my hardest to plant my feet on the board, and with sheer strength, I started to stand up really slowly. My heart wanted to leap out of my chest and my vision became blurry. It felt as though the board began vibrating and I had an intense urge to cry. I slowly descended back down, sitting back on my heels and tears started to roll down my cheeks. The crying released something in me. I tried to do it as silently as possible though because you know, I’ve only just met these nice people and I hoped my pink cap shielded my wet face from them.
Then in like 5 minutes, I tried to get up again. Now I stood up all the way through, but I could not for the life of me put the paddle in the water. My hands stayed raised in front of my chest, like they were frozen or my brain lost contact with them. The instructor was by my side, telling me quite rudely to put the paddle in because otherwise why bother being on the board. And I began defending myself hard. I said that I’m not going to put the paddle in and it’s an achievement in itself that I could stand up so leave me alone. I didn’t feel safe standing up. I paddled around the bay sitting down for a bit recovering from my second attempt then in a few minutes, I tried to stand up again. And this time, I did fully stand up and I could put that paddle in. And I could even paddle with it moving the board ahead. I did it for a few minutes, then I sat back down again. And it went like that, and I could stand for longer and longer periods of time. Taylor Swift’s Fearless’ started to play in my head. I was proud of myself. Both for overcoming this fear and defending myself. And I became more and more comfortable with paddling standing up and being on the surface of the river. I began to appreciate the wonderful place I was at, Dunakanyar. With the hills peppered with trees, the beautiful skyline with puffy white clouds, the castle on top of a hill. It was peaceful and quiet and I felt glorious. Once I got the hang of it, it felt amazing. Even if my legs shook a bit.
Something in me was released through these three days. When I came home, and I opened the door to our apartment, I cried of relief that I was finally at home. I couldn’t wait to rush to daycare to pick up my girlies. The retreat was quite an intense therapy session for me so I was glad that it was finally over and I missed my family badly. Even though it was amazing as well. I loved that I got to do yoga first thing in the morning every day, that I was in nature, in a beautiful house, that I got to spend three days with such nice people. That something I left behind was dark and is no longer gripping me. I’m not sure what that dark stuff was I left behind but what I know is that the annoying entitled bitch voice nagging in my head about how she doesn’t want to do certain stuff almost completely disappeared. Before I was stuck in circles of thoughts about how I didn’t want to do something like the laundry or talking to someone or not feeling worthy of my dreams to take steps towards it and now it’s gone. Poof. Yoga and working through shit works!
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