Here and Now

  The Third Eye  by Rutuja Padwal I’ve been dreaming quite often about being hospitalized due to mental illness. It could be because I’m struggling with my mental health, but I feel like many of us are struggling due to the pandemic. I’m not a stranger to needing inpatient treatment, but I’m not even close to that point at all. When I woke up from that dream this morning, I was acutely aware of how healthy I am compared to years ago. I’m not only healthier, but happier. I remember back to when I was working for the local school district, and barely being able to get out of bed. I was burnt out working with aggressive students, and deeply depressed. Now I am passionate about my work, and thankful that I survived that period of my life. I think that my schedule is in flux, and that throws me off. I also know that eventually it will be more consistent again, and so I work on being patient and compassionate with myself. I still see my therapist virtually, which is better than not ...

planting my hands firmly into the ground and flipping upside down shifting perspectives exploring the perimeters  a compass leading in all directions Inhale expanding freedom Exhale releasing into gravity  the outlines disappear diving into presence  hold on tight savor the moment and then let it go dancing with breath leaning into life... Angela Minard© 

Lately when my mind drops me into the past, it is big and loud, like suddenly being slapped, sharp and stinging...too much in my body, too much hurt. I look around, and I remember the dream where I hide under the bed, shivering on the cold wood floor. A small white bunny hops under the bed to join me, and I’m no longer alone or scared. The end. Only it’s not the end, is it? It’s not a dream. I confuse waking and dreaming because that is how I survived, but even now it is blurry, past and present, real or illusion, hiding under the bed... Artwork by Richard Jesse Watson

I thought I had given up blogging, but I do enjoy sending my thoughts out into the ether, out of my head, and yet still somewhere tangible. Life is change, and within the change, a tendency to resist for awhile, and for me at least, eventually a surrender. I can create as much chaos as I resist, but here I am, still participating in life. I stopped writing here during transition from my work with the autism population, and into a yoga therapy job in a behavioral health hospital, and teaching yoga full time, which still is my dream job. Last year the hospital I was working in closed, which was sudden, and a big disappointment. I wondered if I would be able to find enough work to still teach yoga full time, but I was able to find a job in another behavioral health hospital that is so close to my home, so it’s even better, and I still teach some corporate and studio classes, so I feel well rounded in my career. Covid messed with some of my income at first, but like most of the world, I wa...

I probably shouldn’t come here  and tell You Every fucking feeling that moves through me Maybe I’m not even talking to  You around and around in circles  until I’m spinning  I haven’t been here in awhile have I? I’m sick of coming back. I should know how to do this by now everyday Grows slower Grows darker like a slow motion dream that I can’t wake up from I don’t know how to stop it No one knows no one knows It’s why I tell You Angela Minard© 

I come to this black void and instead of emptiness, there are all of these brilliant colors, like music that I can taste and hear- I distract myself with the familiar until the words form beneath my fingertips... My mind flashes back to the “crazy dream.” I’m locked up in an asylum, sensing the depressant quality of being over medicated, with a tenuous grasp on reality. I’m not sure why I return to the texture of this dream-feeling trapped, misunderstood, and denied of comfort and care...it’s a worn out theme. Eating disorders are like an asylum. Even in recovery, it’s presence looms-black and white, colorless and empty, and even in my sleep, I can feel my body, the weight and density, a liquid mass -trapped. The Asylum: a place I would like to escape to; where I could be crazy and at the same time a hostage of my body. I would be free to rattle the chains of my own misery, completely abandoned by the outside world. A nightmare or a wish? I’m in recovery. I eat the food, sometimes with...