Did I make you uncomfortable?

About a month ago I attended a yoga class in jeans and a cute top. In my defense, I thought I was attending an educational series on our glands. In a way, I was; however, I was the only one not wearing yoga clothes and borrowing a mat. At first, I was pissed. I fought my strong desire to leave and never come back (it’s a 5 series session). I stayed, partly because the thought of leaving was also embarrassing. The yoga was unlike any class I had been to. There were no downward dogs. Instead we were reciting mantras, practicing challenging breathing techniques, and holding our arms in uncomfortable positions for endless amounts of time. I was mentally and physically uncomfortable but not because I wore jeans. I was almost equally uncomfortable in the last class that I went to in my yoga appropriate clothes. Sometime during the first class, our instuctor, who also happens to be a Guru (whatever that means), told us to “get comfortable being uncomfortable”. This phrase has stayed with me and continues to creep into my life.

I realize that a part of me really wants to be known as nice. I want to be a peacemaker. I want others to like me.

When I write blog posts like my last one, Pissed Off, I find myself in an uncomfortable position. I can’t expect everyone to agree with me. I can’t think that others will read my post and think that I’m so nice. Sometimes it would be easier not to write at all. Yet, this scared part of me is overcome by the burning passion that I feel for food, health, and my family. It is uncomfortable to say these things out loud but it is nearly impossible to hold them in.

I like to think that there is personal growth in sitting in this space of uncomfortableness. Being uncomfortable is standing at a party not knowing anyone and not pulling out my phone. Being uncomfortable is trying new things, sometimes meeting new people. For me, being uncomfortable is to allow myself to be vulnerable and open myself to whatever is possible.

So if my writing made you uncomfortable, you’re not alone. And honestly, I’m not sorry.

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