personal growth Archives - Page 2 of 2 - Mercedes Déziel-Hupé

Here’s my first of hopefully many book reviews.

***Full disclosure: I don’t like to criticize work, but I will share works that inspire me. I prefer to tell you WHAT inspires me and WHY than spend time tearing stuff down. So keep that in mind. If I haven’t written about it, I either don’t know it (yet) or don’t like it. I guess you’ll never know!***

I love a good story. I have a love-flirty-open-relationship with yoga. I’m also a sucker for stories of personal victory and journeys of growth and self-discovery. Memoirs beg to be read. So aside from being a huge Elizabeth Gilbert fan (I’m sure you all saw that coming), I do like to discover inspiring stories of all kinds. It won’t come as a surprise either that I like to be introduced to female writers who are honest and witty and profoundly human.

My friend lent me Poser: My Life in Twenty-Three Yoga Poses by Claire Dederer. She knew I’d love it. It took me a few months to get through it, because it felt like a bit of an intrusion in this woman’s life. It also felt so real that it wasn’t an “escape read” but an “I’m having to think about how I’m coping with life” kind of read. I recognized parts of myself in the story and thought I’d gain some wisdom. So I paced myself.

Book Review: Poser – My Life in Twenty-Three Yoga Poses, by Claire Dederer

Poser: My Life in 23 Yoga Poses, by Claire Dederer

I found Claire Dederer’s story to be raw and relatable. Her writing is lively and realistic. She doesn’t shy away from tough subjects nor does she paint herself as a heroine, even in her own tale. She tackles issues around marriage and motherhood. Her courage facing her challenges and her transparency helps alleviate degrees of loneliness, fear and guilt a reader could feel about his or her own life and coping mechanisms.

Dederer’s chapter organization based on yoga poses goes beyond the trendy idea of learning about yoga, but rather, makes very real connections between the essence of a pose and a phase of her life or one of her learning processes. These parallels help non-yoga practitioners to understand how one can grow through a physical practice of any kind, but specifically through yoga. It’s about so much more than fitness – a misconception which she also addresses. Despite it being a great yoga myth buster, I like that her story isn’t about the protagonist becoming an instructor or travelling to ashrams; it is any woman’s journey. This is about how yoga changed her life, not about how she changed her career or made it big. There are no outrageous claims. We witness her evolving relationships and her connection to herself. That’s inspiring to me!

Claire in a wheel, with kids.
Source: OnPoint

I also have to admit her adventure living away from her home town is one of the most exciting parts for me; it makes me dream about changes that would also help me grow in my current life, with my circumstances. That said, I love that her book isn’t about this one decision or any one event, but rather, about a process, a journey.

I hope that you enjoy reading about one woman’s self-discovery and that it inspires you to connect to your Self.

In recent years, I’ve struggled with my health, my mental well-being and this question of happiness. In this process, which is ongoing, I’ve realized that there were things missing in my life (understatement of my generation, right?). Surprisingly, they weren’t things to acquire, but rather, they were experiences to live and feel. I was missing out on so much because of barriers I’d put up within mySelf. We all have barriers to the self, and we all start with recognizing them.

Pride

I realized that one of my sources of restraint was pride. Not in the sense we misunderstand as vain, self-involved and reserved. I mean I was/am proud in the sense that I was protecting my dignity as I saw it and my heart as I remembered pain. You see, folks who aim to better themselves, improve their performance and compete tend to have issues around shame, rejection and self-worth. I know that I learned shame. I learned embarrassment, through experiences such as bullying or singling-out in class. I learned that being “right”, bubbly, helpful and talented was valued. Being valued felt good. I can’t speak for others, but whenever I fell short of any of these, I felt less than. I disappointed and that felt bad. I felt like I lost a bit of shine to my penny. I started to compete with others not to prove myself better than anyone else, but to make myself lovable, though I didn’t know it at the time. When I got older, into adulthood, I loved being the best at something and couldn’t stand not being the best at something I dedicated so much time to. How could I not be the best dancer if I worked so hard? Those questions would send me into tailspins. I would question my entire life’s decisions and whether I even knew who I was. Was I worth anyone’s time?

I was painted as the model student, the talented dancer and artist, the reasonable child, the best friend, the exemplary intern, the up-and-coming reporter, the communications professional, the competitive dancer and team member, the reliable daughter, the girlfriend you bring home to mom. Those are just some of the roles I’ve had to play, as cast by others.

Fear

My fears of feeling shame, embarrassment and not being good enough grew over time. No one is born feeling ill-equipped to live. Everyone born wants to be here. So why do we feel so unloved, inadequate and misunderstood from such a young age?Through experiences. We can choose to take the lessons or identify with the pain. We can’t live with both. When I was about 9 or 10 years old, I danced in a production of Newsies. My coach insisted we lip-sync the chorus introduction and frustrated as she was, she threatened that if she saw one of us mumbling, she would “make us sing the chorus to all the other classes”, which included older kids and teenagers. You’ve probably guessed that I was singled out and was forced to sing, out loud, with no musical accompaniment to about three classes. This was NOT the kind of attention I ever wanted or asked for. I remember my palms sweating and the blood draining from my hands, which were shaking. I remember having a hard time pushing sound out of my mouth. My throat was dry. I made it through the entire chorus while staring at the floor and feeling my face flush. My legs felt like lead. I remember few moments as uncomfortable as that one. I could tell others were also uncomfortable about the manner in which I’d been thrust into their class and forced to perform, like a circus monkey.

Finding My Voice

To this day, I struggle with singing. I have a visceral reaction; like a caged animal. I was a child who loved music and who belted out tunes without a care in the world. I was never even aware that others may not like hearing me! But since this experience, I have third chakra problems. I have a crackly, raspy voice which breaks sometimes mid-speech, or when I sing certain notes. I lose my voice the second I think someone can hear me sing. I frequently have to clear my throat and often have “a frog”. I discovered I have hypothyroidism, which is an under-active thyroid. Louise Hay has very interesting suggestions relating to root causes of physical disease and illness. According to her, thyroid dysfunction has to do with self-expression and being heard or “speaking your truth”. I think it’s pretty clear that my symptoms stem from a traumatic experience. The irony of it all, is that the song was meant to be empowering.

“Open the gates and seize the day

Don’t be afraid and don’t delay

Nothing can break us

No one can make us

Give our rights away

Arise and seize the day”

For years, I stopped myself from singing. I didn’t sing in public, at the karaoke, on road trips, while walking with an iPod, at parties or around a camp fire. All this time, somewhere deep down, I believed that my singing would be judged, that I would be shamed and ostracized.

I stopped myself from learning an instrument and I quit guitar because my family was full of talented musicians. I stopped myself from sewing because my mom could always do it better. I stopped drawing because it was not practical for school or anything else. Besides, I wasn’t “good” at it, like my father or my cousin was. I “grew out” of playing games, an activity I enjoyed so much. I hesitated for years to learn photography because I thought I wouldn’t understand the technique. I was always “mathematically challenged”. I shelved writing and storytelling for the last few years, when I walked away from reporting. I stopped myself from pursuing riskier career options, which were worth the risk for the sheer experience.

I buried mySelf, as I filled my calendar with activities, my head with worry, my credit card with unattainable standards and my heart with sorrow. I realized something had to change…

Tag: personal growth (page 2 of 2)

Book Review: Poser, by Claire Dederer

Book Review: Poser – My Life in Twenty-Three Yoga Poses, by Claire Dederer

Recognizing Barriers to the Self

Pride

Fear

Finding My Voice

Read my recovery story in my next post.

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