Protection

“I stand in front of you. I feel the force of the blow.” – Massive Attack, Protection

I’ve been in love twice in my life and both times we were bezzies before we were lovers. (“Lovers”! Ick!)

The first time we broke up because our backgrounds and our futures were so entirely different, and we were young and still growing; and didn’t realise what we had; and disrespected our relationship with drugs and looking elsewhere.

But there was a time we would have done anything for each other and we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together and I believed that he was the most flawed yet all-round beautiful thing I had ever held.

The second time we broke up because he developed a profound mental illness and neither of us knew how to live without control over that; or how to recapture the trust in our future together; and he needed to get out and I needed to protect myself.

But I believe he was the most flawed yet all-round beautiful thing I have ever held and I would still do almost anything for him.

Sometimes I think that my story since then can be summed up as the need to protect oneself being stronger than the need to live.

Everyone has a heartbreak sob story. Boo hoo. Mine happened too late in my life and too early in the history of popular culture to become a reason to audition for X Factor. Thankfully. I guess.

But still, it anchored itself so deeply in my core and fibre that it became a form of paralysis.

Chief among my motivations, had I only known it, was that I should make no sudden movements for fear of getting cut again on a jagged edge. Life is a nightmare when you can’t locate the wound let alone stem the bleeding.

So far, so self-indulgent.

Why is this relevant to a blog about my personal experience of bikram yoga? Perhaps it’s not relevant at all. Perhaps nothing is irrelevant. Perhaps I am putting this down here because I have to let it go. (“Let go”! Ick!) Perhaps this blog is a safe place in the same way the hot room is supposed to be a safe place. (And this is a totally separate issue but before the recent rape allegations I would not have used “probably” in that sentence.) Perhaps the changes I see in the hot room mirror scare me ‘cos I think I’m returning to the body that left me unguarded and allowed me to get hurt so badly.

Maybe when I feel sick, sad, angry, confused and overwhelmed in camel or floor bow or the one before spine twist (“The one before spine twist”! Ick!) What I’m actually feeling is vulnerable and – even though my body is fighting, fighting, fighting me to let go of that protection – vulnerability is the most confusing and alarming state of all.

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