This. This is everything. Brava, dear girl. Never stop talking about the shit you don’t want to talk about. Bless your beautiful, brave heart. Namaste.
School has started.
Back to school meant back to the mat, pushing me to brave rush-hour traffic, squeeze into parking Tetris behind Just Be, and squeeze my way into overstuffed classes just for 75 minutes of nothing but breath and sweat. I needed it, a chance to hit the pause button and regroup, like calling together the troops in my head for a come-to-Jesus meeting that says, “Get ready to go back to real life.”
Because instead of starting my day with a yoga class at eight AM, I’m starting my day in a room with a clock that doesn’t seem to move and a classroom of students who don’t want to be there. It’s the final year, and motivation is either skyrocketing as kids aspire toward college, or already taking a dangerous plunge toward a terminal diagnosis of Senioritis. My life feels like it’s taken a complete 180 from the summer-…
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