I know that I’ve been headed in that direction over the last couple weeks, but it’s really been building since Wednesday.  I had one of those mini crying spells earlier today — not the good, cathartic kind, just the kind where my breathing gets all gaspy and the tears burn my eyes but I can’t sob like I need to get it out of my system.  Then, since I have learned that making food usually helps me feel a little better, I found a recipe for whole wheat crackers in one of my cookbooks and made them.  And I did feel a little better.  I think it’s the fact that 1) it forces me to focus on something and 2) it provides that instant gratification that I’ve always been a sucker for.  Maybe they’ll get better as they age, but the crackers really aren’t that great.  Not crisp enough.  I’m going to try a different recipe next time.

So Wednesday was an atheist meeting and I was moody, impatient and really unsympathetic to the guy running the meeting.  In my defense, he goes on and on about things that really have nothing to do with the group and even when they do have to do with the group he gives us all kinds of backstory and details that no one needs to know which makes the meetings run at least 50% longer than they should.  In short, brevity is just not his thing.  I felt bad about it but I was in too crummy a mood to stick around and try to explain my thoughts.  Besides, at his age you’d think he’d’ve figured out how to edit himself a bit, and since he hasn’t, I’m really not holding out much hope.

Saturday I went to this pay-what-you-can outdoor yoga class in the park.  I had never been before and I was a little anxious because I get anxious about shit like that.  But it looked like only 8 people had RSVP’d (including the instructor) so I thought I could handle it.  I got there a few minutes late (having to run by the ATM to get cash so I could actually pay-what-I-could) and they had already started and there were at least twice as many people as I had seen on the RSVP list.  I tried to explain to my mom how I felt when I saw that.  I was immediately consumed by social anxiety, fear, dread, unworthiness, I nearly broke down and cried right there.  But I did make myself keep going.  I “womaned up” so to speak, rolled out my mat and joined in, following along as best I could.  It was good, and I give myself credit for going ahead and doing it, and I intend to go back every Saturday insofar as my schedule allows it.  But I keep wondering about that feeling.  I guess I just haven’t forced myself out of my comfort zone in a long time, and I’ve been feeling fragile enough that it was a bigger deal than I ever imagined it would be.

I hope to get back to meditating in the mornings… maybe that will help keep me in better touch with whatever it is that’s going on within me right now.