Ommmmmmmmm

I just walked out of a yoga class, nearly in tears. With a brief interlude for Birkie fun (and it was really fun), the past several weeks have been hellaciously busy. I've had one deadline after another, and now have barely a week to try to prepare to argue two different, complicated cases before the Tenth Circuit next week, out-of-state. To say I'm a little stressed would be an understatement.

Steve, too, has been working crazy hours and dealing with impossible deadlines. We decided this weekend that yoga and other stress-reducing practices need to figure more prominently in our lives. As a first step, we planned to take a yoga class at our gym tonight. I've taken other classes there and have liked them all very much - each class I've attended has used some variation of traditional, flowing vinyasa style yoga, which I like because it blends relaxation and athleticism and has significantly helped my balance and seems to have had a beneficial impact on my problem hips and knees.

But from the moment we walked into the studio tonight, I wanted to turn around and leave. The room was so dark when we entered that I couldn't see to find a mat or a spot, and had I been alone, without Steve to help and guide me, I would have either tripped over someone, walked into a support post, or simply been unable to function. Then, when we sat down, the instructor asked me something - I think whether I had done yoga before - and I nodded and smiled. She gave me a strange look and said something I couldn't understand, and when I simply smiled at her, she looked at me even more strangely. Finally, I said to her, "I'm sorry, I'm deaf, and I won't be able to hear you." In response, she looked annoyed and moved away.

When class began, it consisted of a good fifteen minutes of sitting cross-legged and breathing. Steve loves this part of yoga, but it is not at all my cup of tea - I want to move, to flow from breath to breath and posture to posture, not to sit still and try to keep my back from slumping or aching while I strain to understand the instructor's muted near-whisper.

Finally, it seemed we were going to begin moving. But all around me, everyone was doing something different. The instructor turned on some yoga-y music and started sliding around in various stretchy poses, but no one else was doing what she was, or anything else with a discernible pattern. It seemed we were supposed to be doing something, but since I couldn't hear the instructor over the music and couldn't follow any one else's lead, I had no idea what that something might be. I got more and more tense - just what you expect from yoga, right? - and then finally decided I had to get out of the room.

I stood up, told Steve I would see him at home, and started to leave. Except I couldn't see well enough to find my damn shoes and sweatshirt, so I went back to my mat. I sat there for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on. But people were still engaged in a random chaos of motions, and I just couldn't stand it anymore. I poked Steve in the arm, dragging him out of his relaxed state, and had him find my things for me. Then I left the room as quickly as I could, barely restraining myself from slamming the door on my way out.

I couldn't get out of the gym fast enough. As I wove my way through the weight machines, though, I decided that I had to say something about the experience. I stopped at the front desk. The girl there must have sensed my obvious distress, and listened patiently as I told her that, while I might well be the only member who might be negatively affected, this particular class is terribly inaccessible for someone with hearing and visual limitations. She was kind and receptive, promised to talk to the instructor and the manager, and apologized for my bad experience. I was glad I brought the issue to her attention, though everyone else in that class probably loves it.

When I walked out, I suddenly let go of all the tension that had built up in the studio, and over the past several hectic weeks, and I started sobbing. I walked through the parking lot and around the corner to home, gasping and weeping and snuffling. By the time I reached the house a few minutes later, I had sobbed out all the pent-up frustration and was calm again.

Now I'm going to turn on one of my yoga tapes, with the volume up at the level I need, and try to relax.

UPDATE: Having done my familiar yoga workout, I feel much better. Steve just got home and said the instructor talked to him after class to find out why I left, and was very apologetic. Steve also said that after a 5-10 minute period of free-form stretching, the instructor went through a fairly traditional vinyasa, balance, and yoga stretching routine, which I would have liked. So I'm going to try it again next week, arriving early enough to chat with the instructor for a few minutes about my needs, and to get a spot directly in front of her.  Steve really loved this class, and we'd like to do yoga together, so I'll give it another shot.

Comments

[michelle]

How frustrating... I quit doing aerobics because I'm so darn uncoordinated. I didn't like the feeling of always being a step or two or three hundred behind. I can't imagine how awful I'd be if my hearing and vision were impaired.

Interestingly, yoga in the US is very physical/athletic. In Germany, Karl always fell asleep because there was so much breathing and relaxing. I'd have to nudge him to wake him up. We really should get back into yoga but you know how it goes, too much work, too many sports and too little time.

I hope work eases up on you soon. See you tonight for some rock climbing!

[rebecca]

Obviously I don't have the sight limitations you do, but I've been driven to tears in yoga classes in which I can't hear (at least the hot ones, since I have to take off my hearing aids to avoid destroying them with sweat). I try not to get upset about it since it's something I can't change, but sometimes I just can't help it. I avoid any non-bikram hot classes as a result, but I would suggest that you try what I do with all yoga classes, regardless of the heat - before class starts, I always walk up to the instructor, introduce myself and explain that I wear hearing aids and may have trouble hearing in class. Instructors have always been receptive to this, and it seems to help. In your case, if you find the room is dark, and Steve isn't with you, you could turn around, go to the front desk and ask them to escort you to the instructor. I understand the impulse to not call any attention to yourself but most people are pretty well intentioned and just need to have their expectations set properly. But, all my helpful suggestions aside, my heart went out to you as I read your blog on this. xo.