Imposter Syndrome and the Yoga-Thon
This blog is about clutter. Sometimes I write actual physical clutter in my house (six laundry baskets of clean by unfolded clothes in the dining room anyone?) But sometimes, I need to go deeper and tackle mental clutter. I have to examine those limiting beliefs or those stories I tell myself which no longer serve me.
Yesterday, I attended Yoga Reaches Out, a yoga-thon which raised money for the Boston Children's Hospital. I really wanted to attend. My daughter was at Boston Children's Hospital. She passed away but I truly believe that if anyone could have saved her, it would have been them. I also hoped to learn some new things. I've been teaching for five years now. I never want to stop learning. I want my classes to be great and I thought this might be the sort of immersion I could learn from (and give back at the same time).
Yet the event also pushed my insecurity buttons in a big way. I'm a plus-sized yoga teacher in a land of Instagram Barbie dolls. I have fibromyalgia and deal with chronic, widespread pain. I don't look like a yoga teacher. I love to teach beginners and gentle classes. I love to help people discover yoga who because of size, shape, age, injury or disability might not have otherwise discovered it. I don't do wheel or handstands. Not when I teach and not in my own practice either. Could I? Sure with some practice, I probably could.
But I find myself judging myself anyway. Somehow the compassion I extend to my students (You're not competing with anyone, including yourself, there is no judgement here, listen to and honor your body, begin where you are) all goes out the window when it's me.
Maybe you're not really a good teacher? What if you can't do certain poses and you're exposed as a fraud? What if someone says 'Well how can you even teach, if you don't now this that or the other thing?' Why aren't you better? If you suck at this, maybe you suck at everything.
The voices are merciless but yoga is actually a good way of shutting them up or at least not caring what they say. I went to the yoga-thon and I'm glad. Here's what I learned.
I sat in a room with a thousand yogis and everyone had some place where they struggled. People fell out of poses. People did things backwards. People had trouble sometimes following the cuing and people took breaks and rested. Nobody had perfect form and alignment in every single pose and everyone said that the particularly vigorous sequences took a lot out of them.
One of the featured teachers ran his sequencing so fast there was no way I could follow him. I found it difficult to move through his sequencing as well. There are some ways my body can't move and guess what? It's okay. Surprisingly, instead of feeling bad about myself, I felt better. I am moving my body. I am teaching other people with bigger bodies or chronic pain and other issues to move theirs. Was he a better teacher than me because he was faster and his movements seemed effortless?
I'm sure there are students who adore this particular teacher's classes for those very reasons. But I am just as good a teacher because I treat my students with love and compassion. I make modifications so my classes are accessible to everyone in them. I tell my students not to compare themselves and yet that is exactly what I did. Comparing yourself to other people is a great way to feel bad about yourself.
True students of yoga know that asana (yoga poses) is not the point anyway. Yoga is about calming the mind, creating unity, making space and meeting ourselves on the mat. It kinda' doesn't matter what we think we look like.
The main presenter at the yoga-thon said (and I'm paraphrasing) "Because it's a process, we must forgive ourselves over and over for not knowing better. We do the best we can with the tools and information we have at the time." I hope to learn many more things. I hope to learn for the rest of my life and with that learning, improve. But right now, in this moment, I am the best yoga teacher I can be.
Yesterday, I attended Yoga Reaches Out, a yoga-thon which raised money for the Boston Children's Hospital. I really wanted to attend. My daughter was at Boston Children's Hospital. She passed away but I truly believe that if anyone could have saved her, it would have been them. I also hoped to learn some new things. I've been teaching for five years now. I never want to stop learning. I want my classes to be great and I thought this might be the sort of immersion I could learn from (and give back at the same time).
Yet the event also pushed my insecurity buttons in a big way. I'm a plus-sized yoga teacher in a land of Instagram Barbie dolls. I have fibromyalgia and deal with chronic, widespread pain. I don't look like a yoga teacher. I love to teach beginners and gentle classes. I love to help people discover yoga who because of size, shape, age, injury or disability might not have otherwise discovered it. I don't do wheel or handstands. Not when I teach and not in my own practice either. Could I? Sure with some practice, I probably could.
But I find myself judging myself anyway. Somehow the compassion I extend to my students (You're not competing with anyone, including yourself, there is no judgement here, listen to and honor your body, begin where you are) all goes out the window when it's me.
Maybe you're not really a good teacher? What if you can't do certain poses and you're exposed as a fraud? What if someone says 'Well how can you even teach, if you don't now this that or the other thing?' Why aren't you better? If you suck at this, maybe you suck at everything.
The voices are merciless but yoga is actually a good way of shutting them up or at least not caring what they say. I went to the yoga-thon and I'm glad. Here's what I learned.
I sat in a room with a thousand yogis and everyone had some place where they struggled. People fell out of poses. People did things backwards. People had trouble sometimes following the cuing and people took breaks and rested. Nobody had perfect form and alignment in every single pose and everyone said that the particularly vigorous sequences took a lot out of them.
One of the featured teachers ran his sequencing so fast there was no way I could follow him. I found it difficult to move through his sequencing as well. There are some ways my body can't move and guess what? It's okay. Surprisingly, instead of feeling bad about myself, I felt better. I am moving my body. I am teaching other people with bigger bodies or chronic pain and other issues to move theirs. Was he a better teacher than me because he was faster and his movements seemed effortless?
I'm sure there are students who adore this particular teacher's classes for those very reasons. But I am just as good a teacher because I treat my students with love and compassion. I make modifications so my classes are accessible to everyone in them. I tell my students not to compare themselves and yet that is exactly what I did. Comparing yourself to other people is a great way to feel bad about yourself.
True students of yoga know that asana (yoga poses) is not the point anyway. Yoga is about calming the mind, creating unity, making space and meeting ourselves on the mat. It kinda' doesn't matter what we think we look like.
The main presenter at the yoga-thon said (and I'm paraphrasing) "Because it's a process, we must forgive ourselves over and over for not knowing better. We do the best we can with the tools and information we have at the time." I hope to learn many more things. I hope to learn for the rest of my life and with that learning, improve. But right now, in this moment, I am the best yoga teacher I can be.
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