Ivy, you are supposed to be using these three months to figure this out.
But what if I come out of this and realise I don’t actually like anything?
What if I’m just… nothing outside of dating and work and brunch? When I was younger, I thought in my forties I’d be happily married with two kids, living somewhere in the countryside. The perfect family. Being on my own with no plan for my future wasn’t quite what I had imagined.
The instructor carries on.
“Shift into Downward Facing Dog.”
I press my hands and feet into the mat, hips raised. My arms shake a little, but I hold steady.
I mean, I’m good in my job. I was one of the youngest members of the Royal Town Planning Institute. When it comes to my career, I know what I’m doing. But I want to be more than just my job; I need to start actually paying attention to myself.
Not in a self-improvement, drink-green-smoothies way, but in awho the hell am Ikind of way.
“Lower into Cobra Pose.”
I stretch forward, pressing up with my arms, feeling the arch in my back.
Pee-Pee was right. It’s time to start figuring out what makes me happy.
The instructor’s voice is soothing.
“Shift into Child’s Pose, letting your body rest.”
I fold myself down, arms extended, forehead touching the mat.
I close my eyes.
But the truth is, I have no idea where to start. Yet, for the first time, I actually want to.
“We’ll move into Seated Spinal Twist.”
I sit up, crossing one leg over the other and twisting gently.
It’s time to stop coasting.
“Extend into Seated Forward Bend.”
I lean forward, reaching for my toes even if I don’t quite get there yet.
Time to stop avoiding myself.
Finally, the instructor’s voice softens. “Now, rest in Final Relaxation Pose.”
I lie there, stretched out in my all-time favourite pose, staring at the ceiling, letting my breath settle
And then it hits me: I did it. I made it through the whole thing. No skipping. No quitting halfway through. No dramatically collapsing onto my mat in frustration. I did the whole yoga routine. Okay, someone’s mind is supposed to be blank and calm when doing yoga, not full of life’s questions, but I somehow made it through.
And the weirdest part? I actually liked it.
I exhale slowly, feeling a tiny swell of something that I think might be… pride? It’s such a rare emotion for me when it comes to anything vaguely athletic, I barely recognise it.
But there it is. I enjoyed this.
Sure, I wobbled, and my hamstrings definitely hate me, but I feel… good. I let out a small laugh, the sound bouncing off the quiet walls of my flat.
Maybe this is what I’ve been missing. Not necessarily yoga itself—although apparently, I don’t hate it—but the feeling of doing something just for me. No expectations. No impressing anyone. No outside validation. Just… me, a yoga mat, and an hour spent figuring out what my body can do.
