Just Call Me A Yoga Teacher

Just call me a yoga teacher. Today I taught my first ever yoga class! I won't lie, I was freaking out before. Not in the hours directly leading up to my class (MY class!!!) but the days before I suspect there's a few people who could vouch for my insanity. I'm trying to pinpoint what exactly it is I was freaking out about, but honestly it was everything. Comfort me about one and I would become anxious about another. I wanted to achieve perfection.

A few days ago in class we were speaking about the patterns we create in our lives; about the habits that are so ingrained within our everyday that we can't help but keep falling into them. For me, it is the need to always be perfect, in Absolutely. Everything. And when I inevitably fall short? I beat myself up big time. Always rubbish. But right then I realised I don't want that anymore; I don't want to feel like that. It will take energy to lift myself from the rut I've created - that pattern in my thinking - but I don't want to hear that tyrant voice, especially when it is my own.

So I have decided to take responsibility; to choose to recognise my own potential and be kinder to myself. Leading up to teaching my class it was in learning to be softer. Realising that every time I have helped someone with their handstands after class, or given a friend an alignment suggestion I have been teaching. Realising that yoga and teaching are my passion; share that, share my practice and that will be enough.

This morning I did my class and it went well. Was it perfect? Of course not. I messed up a few breathing cues, missed some of my warm up exercises and could have made a couple of the transitions in the flow a little smoother, but as a first ever lesson, it was more than adequate.

I'm learning to see my own potential. Just call me a yoga teacher...