I had my first Yoga for Grief Support class last night. As expected, I cried a few times. The physical part of the class was okay. I did expect that there would some type of introduction where we all said why we were there, but there wasn't so when my brain wandered away from my body, I was speculating about who all the other women in the class were grieving for. Just by age, I would guess that most of the other people there were widows or moms who had lost adult children.
One of the hardest part of the class for me was the beginning relaxation exercise. I realized that I haven't let myself totally and completely relax since Reid died because it feels like tension is the only thing holding me together. If I let myself relax completely I will fall into a million tiny pieces. The other hardest part was a pose where we were just standing on our mats (tadasana, for any yoga practitioners out there.) We stood there and slowly adjusted our bodies until we were standing with perfect posture, the way you would if you were a proud, happy, confident, well-rested sort of person. Then we were told to let ourselves slump back into our "normal" posture and I realized how far my "normal" way of standing is from tadasana. Of course who could expect to feel proud of themselves or their body when their baby died inside them and then that same body refuses to get pregnant again and you have been depressed for months. Of course there isn't a damn thing I can do about the first two things either. Not exactly inspiring thoughts to meditate on.
I am glad I went to the class and will have no problem going back next week, but I am still a big mopey mess today. (I exchanged my pajama pants for sweat pants to take D to preschool this morning and that's as far as my getting dressed went.) I haven't been this down in weeks but I don't know if it's a side effect from the class or from what happened when I got home. More later, but I promise it's nothing really earth shattering or exciting so no need to worry.