Friday, February 18, 2011

Post Workshop Blahs

We are having a warm(ish) spell here in Erie.  The Groundhog declared Early Spring and, and lo' and behold, the grass is showing for the first time in months.  In the above photo, you can see what a yard looks like when a couple feet of snow melt in two days time.  Tired.  And we will head back into more seasonal (aka "winter") temperatures tomorrow.

That's okay.  This sudden change not only made the lawn tired, but all the people around me have been complaining of the same thing.  It's just too fast.  We need adjustment periods.

And so I am in the Week After an Amazing/Life Changing Workshop.

Like that lawn, I'm looking and feeling pretty worn out.  It was too fast to absorb so much.

And yet...

I come back every single time with crazy, high, unrealistic expectations.

Like, that I will just keep up the schedule I had at the workshop.  Or I will dive deeper than ever into creative projects the minute I get home.

Every time, I fall for this.  Every time, I am disappointed and feel the self blame games starting.

I am lazy.  I don't want this enough.  You know...all the Hairy Little Demons that I normally keep at bay have a field day when I am this tired, this overwhelmed.

The most frustrating part for me, though, is how damn good I feel when I am at workshops.  I was moving -- and I mean MOVING -- five, six, nine hours a day.  And I had not an ounce of pain.  I was muscle sore in the evenings but in that really good way.

I come home and my lower back pain starts up immediately and now it is super bad.  I am stiff. I am creaky.

I am Crabby.

This is why people get a little...addicted to workshops and are constantly saving for the next one.  But I want to figure this out.  I want to bring that home with me.  I want to be my workshop self all the freaking time.

((whine whine whine))


The Girlie-Queue said...

I love this. I love how the world gave you a perfect metaphor, because it's so true, "we need adjustment periods."

I remember when I used to first come home from retreats and be so militant about change. Making lifestyle changes, schedule changes, changes, changes and they all had to happen NOW. I nearly wrecked my whole life.

Since that time, something in me has relaxed. I too desire to be my retreat-self all the time... except that now, on some level, I realize I AM the same retreat-person, I'm just not as constantly, persistantly aware of her, and our tiniest nuances. And I think that is okay because she/we need a buffer against all of those folks on the outside who've never been "retreat-persons".

I've come to see the retreat space as a giant, safe egg with all of my like-minded people sharing the egg. If I focus my awareness on these like-minded people afterwards, after we've separated, I am often able to "light a spark" of how it felt to be there with them, and sometimes that is enough.

(((BIg Love))) It's an amazing journey of yours we get to see. Thanks Woman♥

Anonymous said...

This is so true. Workshops and retreats are so addicting. The energy, excitement, sense of community, unleashing of creativity, it's such a rush! It's a fine line between craving and finding your dharma and feeling lit up. How do I keep it in perspective when returning to the real word? Finding people like you, that blog about it certainly helps,

beachbody team said...

Last Dec 25, my friends and I had a three day workshop. Even if it means not spending the entire Christmas with or families, in the end we didn't want the thing to end. I'm glad spring is coming back and you perfectly used it as an analogy to this post. We all need to rest for a while.

Anonymous said...

beautiful little poem here.

also i have this book called "8 steps to a pain free back" by esther gokhale.. and she talks about how posture really affects our backs, and causes pain. since taking her instructions, 90% of my back pain is gone, because i know how to sit right, walk right, etc.
thought u might be interested.
it sucks being in pain.

Anonymous said...

a woman's journey into herself and the woods after the age of 50