JAPA

I signed myself up for a two hour Yoga Mala Zoom class on New Year’s Day that ended up lasting almost three hours. I had spent the evening before eating an array of hordevors from Trader Joe’s freezer section and washing it all down with a whole lot of gin. I woke up early New Year’s Day with a dry mouth, sinuses swollen from dehydration and a specific ache in my body. My first thought was how was I going to make it through a hundred and eight rounds of sun salutations without throwing up. I didn’t. There were some tears, but I made it through all one hundred and eight rounds. It was an intense start to the year. We’re dropping some bad habits this month and participating in Dry January. Starting the day with a yoga mala was my version of a Polar Bear Club, jumping into a freezing body of water.

This last weekend was the first weekend I’ve had without alcohol since Chris died.

That is not to say that I spend every weekend in a drunken stupor, but alcohol is a strong presence in my life. I’ll drink a bottle of wine on Friday and then spend Saturday evenings drinking gin and tonics until I stumble into bed. Waking up with a mild hangover is how I have crawled out of bed every Saturday and Sunday morning, moving through the daily chores of grocery shopping and laundry with a slightly throbbing temple. I have not always been like this. Friday evenings, during graduate school, were spent sharing pitchers of beer at Stonewalls. Often, I would end up drinking a little too much, but when graduate school was over those evenings of drinking a little too much ended. Chris and I would enjoy a craft beer or a glass of wine here and there, but alcohol was not a regular beverage. Alcohol became a regular weekend beverage when Chris died, an attempt to be numb, an act of boredom. An act of boredom turned into an act of habit. Inserting Micheal into this equation made the habit easy. He is the type that can’t have just one drink and he made sure my glass was never empty. He will struggle more than I will with dry January.

I don’t think I have ever really started a year with a clean slate, completely giving up a bad habit or diving straight into a bowl of kale. My so called resolutions never lead me in those directions. There is usually a good excuse for not quitting a habit. Now is not the time. I need this habit to get me through the next few months of grief. This habit makes it easier to be around certain people, to deal with minor irritants. What else am I going to do on a Friday night? I suggested dry January to Michael weeks and weeks ago. I thought for sure all of those excuses would bubble up and out and we’d start negotiating exceptions. It is my birthday month. What about my birthday Pimm’s cup? None of those excuses entered my mind until I typed them up just now. I have no excuses and there is no need for negotiations. I am open to the pain that comes with January and early February and I am prepared for it.

Late afternoon on Sunday, I did something I haven’t done in a really long time. I rolled out my yoga mat and did my own practice for about an hour and a half. I get on my yoga mat every day during the week, but on weekends, it sits rolled up in a corner of my room. There were random Saturdays where I would go to a studio class, but for the most part my yoga mat gathers dust on weekends. Sunday’s practice was not one hundred and eight sun salutations, less intense. I did my usual my usual vinyasa practice based on my training. It was a balanced practice of challenge and ease and it was good.

Maybe I am starting a new habit to replace and old one.